Once upon a time there was a war. Of nerves. It was called propaganda. The
Germans used it in their radio broadcasts.
When I was in the hospital in England with yellow jaundice, the ward was equipped
with loud speakers. It wasn't the Armed Forces Radio Network broadcasting, it was
Berlin Sally. This was odd, so I asked the other patients, How Come? They
explained that the Armed Forces Network was so awful, the information so
mediocre, and the music so bland that they insisted on Berlin Sally.
The people in charge of the hospital thought this was bad for morale, and that
the "stupid ward patients" might believe the propaganda. They didn't think we
could figure the thing out.
Berlin Sally gave the news that was carefully slanted her way. We knew that. She
played the latest Glenn Miller records. We liked that. The German news agency
relayed accurate accounts of captured GIs. We appreciated that.
The thing that brought home to us the "war of nerves" was a baseball game between
two teams of a certain infantry division played the day before. Berlin Sally gave
out the score. This was authenticated by a GI who was wounded and brought into
the ward this day when he exclaimed, "That's right. I was there!" We became
apprensive about that.
Art Pranger
(3/29/98)
