their appreciation by buying the biggest war bond possible during the War Loan drive - June 12 to July 8.

On one day during the drive Zeke's father Clyde, regardless of how busy he is, will let his work go for a spell.  And just as he did during the second, third and fourth war loan drives, he will call on his neighbors for their bond pledges.

In fact, all over the Middle West, farm folks know pretty well that there is one way they can show Philip Givan, who is called Zeke by his buddies, that they appreciate what he has done for them, and that is by buying War Bonds until the quota for the Fifth Loan is over the top.

They know all too well what Zeke was saying between the lines when he wrote his mother recently in answer to many questions as to whether he had seen any Japs.  Zeke said: "I guess I've finally got to answer your questions.  Yes, I saw plenty of Japs on the Island of Namur but didn't have time to count them as I was busy dodging lead.  Too bad Aurora got beat in the basketball tournament."  And that was all except the signature which simply read, "Your loving son, Phil."

At about the time Zeke's neighbor are buying bonds "'cause it's nothin' exceptin' their duty," farm families in every other midwestern community will also be visited by their neighborhood solicitor.  Each family so visited knows a 'Zeke' who a few weeks ago sent his mother a card reading quite a lot like the one Philip wrote his mother just after he had destroyed 35 Japs.   Philip said: "I'll be wishing all sorts of wonderful things for you on Mother's Day and I'll wrap my wishes in love and kisses and send them with a lei."

And because they want to keep America the kind of place where all the 'Zekes' that follow will remember Mother's Day, these farm families will back the attack and buy more than ever.

This story of "Zeke" will be dramatized on Prairie Farmer's Dinnerbell program at 12 noon Monday, June 12, over WLS.  Plans are under way in Indiana to sponsor a "Zeke Day" during the Fifth War Loan drive.

By Bill Renshaw

If you are interested in knowing how a 19-year-old lad from a farm in Dearborn Co., Indiana, mowed down 35 Japs in one battle and if you'd like to hear how his Sparta township neighbors are going to show their appreciation, you'll want to read this.

It all happened at dusk on a sultry evening in the South Pacific a few weeks ago.   For 70 hours one of the strongest task forces ever assembled had been pouring tons of shells into Jap positions in the Marshall Islands.  To the Marines waiting in their transports out there o nthe water it seemed like years, not hours.  Their job was to go in and establish a beachhead. Then suddenly they were in speedy landing crafts, racing for a hunk of coral known as Kwajalein Atoll.

In the first landing wave was our farm lad, Pfc. Philip L. Givan, known to his Marine buddies as just 'Zeke.'  No sooner had Zeke established himself on the Atoll than Japs rushed his position.

He calmly took aim and fired.  One Jap fell but the others, emitting blood-curdling yells, kept coming.  After that there just wasn't time to get a careful bead.  It was just a case of touch and go. Sort of reminded him of some of the hot basketball games during his high school days at Moores Hill when he didn't always have time to get set for a shot.  Zeke rememdered that when the chips were down in an important game, you depended on reflexes and timing perfected by months of training to hit the basket. It was kinda like that as Japs kept charging him from behind a pill box.

Zeke even missed a few shots just as he did a couple of years ago in that last basketball game, but most of his bullets found their mark.  Then just as suddenly as it started, it was all over, with the oil on the barrel of his automatic rifle - a rifle that somebody's war bonds bought - almost boiling hot.

Then a Lieutenant and Corporal started counting the mountain of lifeless Japs lying in the section where Zeke had been firing.  The Corporal shouted: "Zeke, you're a hero.   You've killed 35 Japs.  You're a real hero."

Just as he used to do when complimented on a fine job of conducting a 4-H meeting, or when his final shot won the basketball game for his team, Zeke looked up and said modestly: "Shucks, it wasn't much.  I didn't do nothin' exceptin' my duty."

On a day in the very near future Zeke's neighbors, folks that he used to shuck corn or pitch hay for in a pinch, will show their appreciation of what he had done for them.  They will not show it with a fanfare or celebration, for Zeke wouldn't like that.  In a quiet way they will show

* Of note: In conversations with Phil after this article was printed in the Prairie Farmer, he told family members that he did not say the things they quoted him as saying.  Creative liberties were taken on the part of Mr. Renshaw and the editors of the Prairie Farmer. Regardless of the propaganda-like attitude and the inaccurate quotations, the remainder of the story about "Zeke" and his war-time accomplishments are true.