Funnyman's Report

Back from his entertainment tour of the South Pacific military bases, gape-grinned Film Comedian Joe E. Brown had covered 32,000 miles, had seen more war front than most U.S. soldiers. He had ripped through comedy routines before 8 a.m. and hours after dark. One show he did in Papuan jungle grass up to his hips, six minutes' march from Jap positions; another went on in a driving downpour at Milne Bay, New Guinea.

Brown had undertaken the tour at his own expense, in part as a memorial to his son, Captain Don Brown, killed in a California bomber crash last October; he could feel the satisfaction of a job well done.

Yet for all the excitement and adventure and the recollections of applause, Funnyman Brown was not in a funny mood.

He was too impressed with the hardships of soldiering and the meagerness of existence out on the fringes of the war; too depressed by the seeming indifference of civilians who wrongly assumed that the troops had plenty of recreation.

Supply. The facts, as Brown reported them: some American boys haven't seen a movie since they landed out there; soldiers in rear areas see films occasionally, but the Pacific area needs at least 50 projectors right now; about 1% of the men hear radio programs.

During his entire twelve-week trip Brown heard only two broadcasts of Command Performance, the special 30-minute program which fills soldier requests for anything from a violin solo to the bark of a pet dog. Worst hindrances are lack of equipment and delays in transportation; one transcription record that arrived a few weeks ago turned out to be a cheery Christmas program.

Brown's report might startle smug civilians; it certainly came as no surprise to the Army's hard-pressed Special Services Division. With morale equipment, as with every other kind of Army equipment, the basic problem is a heartbreaking one: how to get it there. Considering the Army as a whole, U.S. forces are as well equipped for the fighting man's off-duty relaxation in rear areas as any army in history.

Demand. Movies are popular wherever they can be shown; performances are often so crowded that some men sit behind the screen to watch the picture in reverse. Records played over loudspeakers enliven some camps; in New Guinea, moreover, this music has become a favorite thrill to the boongs, fuzzy-haired native boys who work at advanced air strips. Live shows are favorites everywhere. New Guinea now has a show attraction called Hellzapapuan, while stars like Martha Raye and Carole Landis have performed in advanced zones in North Africa.

The Army is now rushing construction and delivery of a compact entertainment package, the B-kit, containing a seven tube radio and record player, mechanical phonograph, records, transcriptions, song books and six harmonicas. Sidelight on radio tastes: soldiers in the South Pacific who hear radios prefer BBC news to the "too optimistic" newscast from KGEI, San Francisco.

Final decisions on the forwarding of morale equipment must and do rest with the commanding generals and their divisional commanders. When MacArthur thinks his men need B-kits more than bombs, he halts the flow of purely military supplies long enough to speed a couple of hundred B-kits through. When Eisenhower has received 200 pursuit pilots and decides his forces need Martha Raye more than the 201st, Martha Raye they get.

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