Letters, Apr. 17, 1944

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Sirs:

In TIME (March 27) you published a picture of the headstone at the grave of my friend, Bonnie A. Little. It occurs to me that the editors and readers of TIME will be interested in certain facts concerning this marine, since no mention of him is made in the Tarawa piece entitled "On to Westward."

Bonnie A. Little was a captain in the U.S. Marine Corps at the time of his death, although his new commission had not caught up with him. Eyewitness accounts relayed back to his home in Geneva tell how Captain Little led his platoon of amphibious tractors onto the beach in the first assault wave. All men in his tractor were killed except him before the landing was made. Singlehanded, Little pushed on to wipe out a Japanese machine-gun position before he was fatally wounded.

How well this man lived up to the highest traditions of the great Corps in which he served his country can be judged by the manner in which he gave his life, and also by his own words in the last letter he wrote to his wife. "The Marines," said Captain Little, "have a way of making you afraid—not of dying, but of not doing your job." It seems to me that this man said something that might well become a watchword for the Corps.

W. O. MAXWELL Geneva, Ill.

"Charge, My Eye!"

Sirs:

Re TIME (Feb. 28), FARMS. It is fascinating to know that we made a 65% profit ratio in 1943, especially when I have no figures to dispute you with. However, what really makes me sizzle is your typical urban viewpoint toward farmers, as revealed in the following: "For their produce farmers collected about 20% more than they charged in 1942." Since when did we start charging? I sell about three cases of eggs a week.

When the egg buyer drives in the yard and says "Eggs are down a cent today," do I rare back and say, "Oh, no, they're not, we're charging two cents more today." He drives off in a huff and I sit down on my case of eggs and charge and charge and charge, but nothing happens. The same system applies to livestock. We truck it to the city and are informed that the "market" is so much today. We can charge all we like but we get paid whatever the market happens to be. Charge, my eye!

You need a big hick on your editorial staff.

R. E. STEPHENSON Jasper, Mich.

¶ TIME has hicks. But TIME, which also knows an embattled farmer when it sees one, abandons the entrenchments of overall U.S. Government statistics, yields this particular field to Reader Stephenson.—ED.

Sixteen with Mumps

Sirs:

I wish some of those bigoted persons who are the spokesmen for the unfortunate people of the Southern states would spend a week in this Army hospital. It would be a valuable lesson for them.

We are in a quarantine ward for mumps.

Four of the 16 patients are Negroes, and nine of the twelve white soldiers hail from the South. There has not been one instance of racial friction since I have been here. We play cards together, borrow each other's books and stationery, bum each other's cigarets. . . .

And finally, I have never heard the racial problem discussed with more judgment, discretion and frankness than in this ward. . . .