Something to Fight For

The draft board's call came at a bad time for 42-year-old Franklin Waite of Painesville, Ohio. He had bought a lot, stacked it with lumber; he was just ready to start building--in his spare time--a home for his wife and daughter. Now the house would have to wait until after the war.

But Draftee Waite, a war-plant guard, reckoned without the men he worked with. At quitting time they bustled out to Waite's lot at the edge of town, hammered away through the twilight, strung up a makeshift electric light, kept hammering long after dark.

For five straight nights they worked: 50 carpenters, a dozen painters. One night last week, on the eve of leaving for camp, Waite watched them put the finishing touches on his house. Said Franklin Waite, who now knew more clearly than most men what he was going away to fight for: "I've never known anybody like these guys."

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