PAGE SIX
UNIVERSITY DALE, JANSAN, LAWRENCE, KANSAS
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 25, 1942
Commentary by the KANSAN Editorials * Features * Patter
Australia's Bulwark, New Guinea
Recent news dispatches from the headquarters of General Douglas MacArthur tell of the slackening pace of advance by Allied troops into the mountains of New Guinea, because of the difficult terrain.
Such an announcement is easily understood, for New Guinea, second largest island in the world, juts out of the South Pacific Ocean just north of Australia like the scaly back of some fabulous sea dragon. Its topography consists mainly of a long spine of jagged, jungle-covered mountain ridges, three miles high in places.
New Guinea, like Gaul, is divided into three parts. The western half is controlled by the Dutch, the eastern half by Australia; the Mandate of New Guinea, in the northern section the Australian half, is now mostly under Japanese occupation. The southern area, the Colony of Papua, is the objective of Jap invasion forces, because its capital, Port Moresby, is only 600 miles from the northern tip of Australia.
Germany owned the island before the last war, and German influence, established mainly by the efforts of missionaries, is still strong there, particularly in the North. The white population numbers less than 5,000. The coastal natives are to some extent civilized; some even speak English.
The interior was completely isolated from the world until 1938, when an American explorer, Dr. Richard Archbold, discovered in an unknown valley 60,000 primitive natives who still used Stone Age tools and plowed with wooden sticks.
Gold was discovered in the Morobe Mountains in 1922, and, by the use of air transport, a booming industry worth $6,500,000 yearly has been developed. New Guinea's other vast mineral resources are as yet unexploited.
Port Moresby is the island's largest city. Located on the south coast of Papua, the strong Allied naval base with its jug-handled harbor domineers the narrow Torres strait between New Guinea and Australia. This strategical position makes it the center of gravity of the Battle of the Pacific.
On March 8, the Japanese landed on the sloping grasslands of New Guinea's northeast coast, establishing supply bases and airfields for an overland attack on Port Moresby. In August, the Japs started through the jungles toward the city which would be their most effective stepping stone to Australia.
The expedition came to a dead halt south of the 7000-foot high pass through the Owen Stanley mountains. This pass, little more than a footpath, is the only possible route over the mountains. It winds through ravines, down gorges, and up steep slopes. Every piece of equipment must be borne over it by manpower.
When the Japs gave up their land thrust, it was quite logically thought that they were building an inland airfield to continue their almost daily bombings of Port Moresby. The Allies have sent their own jungle fighters into the perilous region, but they, too, have been blocked by the rugged terrain.
It is highly improbable that Japanese troops can ever foot their way across the heretofore impenetrable Owen Stanley mountains with enough equipment to stage a successful attack on Port Moresby. The invasion will have to
Just Wondering
Today we ain't wonderin' about anything——
Editor-in-chief "Fightin' Al" Houghton has taken
a vacation.
--come by air or sea, or both. One such attempt has already been made, and resulted in the Battle of the Coral Sea, in which Japan took a beating.
As long as Port Moresby remains in Allied hands, the Nipponese cannot invade Australia. For that reason, New Guinea is destined to be one of the hottest spots in the Pacific.
The Salina Journal defines salary, 1943 version, as what's left from a paycheck after the social security tax, victory tax, group insurance, war savings bond contributions, USO pledge, and the cut for flowers for a sick coworker are deducted.
When asked why God doesn't stop the war,
"Snort" Brown of the Atchison Globe replied,
"Because God didn't start it," and added,
"Wouldn't God be terrifically busy if he stopped every fool thing men started?"
As the saying goes, no man wants to talk sense to a pretty girl. Philosophises the Leavenworth Times, and the prettier the girl, the less she wants him to waste time talking sense.
OFFICIAL BULLETIN UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS
Sunday, October 25, 1942 No.22
Notices due at News Bureau, 8 Journalism, at 10 a.m. on day of publication during the week, and at 11 a.m. on Saturday for Sunday issue.
--the lure of the golden ball.
Important meeting of Gamma Chapter of Pi Lambda Theta, 7:30 p.m., Tuesday, Oct. 27, room 115 Fraser.
SUN
NOTICE TO ALL UNIVERSITY STUDENTS—Dr. E. J. Gibson is at the Watkins Memorial Hospital each Tuesday afternoon from 2 to 4:30 p.m. for discussion with students on problems of mental hygiene. Appointments may be made through the Watkins Memorial Hospital. Ralph I. Canuteson, director of Student Health Service.
UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
Student Paper of THE UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS Lawrence, Kansas
NEWS STAFF
John Conard
EDITORIAL STAFF
Editor-in-chief Alan B. Houghton
Feature Editor Dean Sims
Publisher
Managing Editor... Bill Feeney
Campus Editors ... Virginia Tieman, Dean Sims,
                Dale Robinson, Bob Coleman
Sports Editor ... J. Donald Keown
Society Editor ... Barbara Batchelor
News Editor ... Joy Miller
Sunday Editor ... Ralph Coldren
Exchange Editor ... Eleanor Fry
BUSINESS STAFF
Business Manager ... Oliver Hughes
Advertising Manager ... John Pope
Advertising Assistant ... Charles Taylor, Jr.
Subscription rates, in advance, $3.00 per year, $1.75 per semester, Published at Lawrence, Kansas, daily during the school year except Monday, Wednesday and Saturday. Entered as a student member, on request. The post office at Lawrence, Kansas, under set of March 3, 1879.
Except for the Frolic this weekend, the Hill seems plenty quiet. Everyone is either at the Manhattan game or at Kansas City enlisting in some branch of service. Girls, this is a taste of what next year may be like.
Vincent Trump, now graduated, returned to visit his ATO brothers last week. Finding out that his fraternity son, Joe Hole wanted a pipe, Vincent bought him a pipe with a long, extremely long, curved stem.
Now before every active meeting Mr. Holt's pipe is borrowed and passed around the chapter in the same manner as a peace pipe.
Holt likes the pipe fine—if he would only get a chance to use it.
Gloria Brinkman and Virginia Britton, Chi O's and owners of the somewhat questionable car, Eventually, went down to the railroad station Friday to buy Virginia a ticket home. They were dressed in slacks and were definitely not looking their best.
*****
Two boys from the Hill were at the station. Knowing both Gloria and Virginia, they asked humorously, "Going on a trip?"
Gloria, without thinking, answered promptly. "Yes, Notre Dame."
Gloria, without thinking, answered promptly, "Yes, Notre Dame." Gloria is going later, but we hope she won't try to make the trip in Eventually.
Bill Jameson, Sigma Chi pledge, used to have a passion for drums. That was before. The other night, Bud Schoefer had some wire brushes used to beat drums. Before Jameson came into the room, as Schoefer knew he would, Schoefer heated the handles of the brushes with a cigarette lighter.
Jameson came in a few seconds later all he扑 to beat out a tricky paradeiddle. He grabbed the brushes—then suddenly released them.
Jameson didn't have to be told to "Get hot!" He didn't cool off till much later.
Mike Gubar, ATO, bought a present for Johnny Davidson, the seven-year-old son of K. W. Davidson of the journalism department. Saturday was Johnny's birthday, so Mike bought him a large toy convoy truck.
When Johnny came to the office Saturday morning, he was presented with the truck. A few minutes later in Mr. Davidson's office, Gubar and K. W. Davidson were playing with the truck, while Johnny stood by, eagerly waiting his chance.
Happy birthday, Johnny!
Hey Bud, Got a Nickel? ★★★ ★★★ Infernal Machines
Oh, the lure of the lights in the long cold nights
By Jimmy "Plunger" Gunn
That Hold the day in thrall
Is a golden lure that has made me poor,
Can't you see them flash in a maddened clash
That shreds the northern nights?
For the coins are here and the call is clear.
the lure of the pinball lights.
★
—Not by Robert W. Service.
Have you ever seen a pinball? Ah, that's a sight to chill a man's soul and burn a hole in his pocket. The glitter of the lights—that is temptation! Cards? Roulette! Slot machines! They do not hold a candle to it. Step right up, folks, and try your skill! Only a nickle, the twentieth part of a dollar!
Pinball? A game of skill, no less. You pit your skill against a peculiar mechanical robot with four legs and a hand in your pocket. It's the case of
a much-less-than irresistable force meeting an immovable object. Indeed, a game of skill!
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Pinball? A pinball machine is an incomprehensible conglomeration of glass, wood, wire, electric lights, magnets, motors, and other assorted odds and ends of ingenuity. Plug the machine in the wall and you have before you a living, malignant, malevolent entity more horrible than a Frankenstein. Talk of biting the hand that feeds it! It will gnaw your arm off past the elbow!
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Seriously, I have a plan for winning the war. Drop a few pinball machines over Berlin and Tokyo and the poor besotted heathen will have no time for thinking up new treachery. That would be vengeance to please the heart of the most bloodthirsty.
Pinball? I'm quitting. I have sworn off for life. Deliver me from it! I am unmitigated evil, a drug, a fiendan device for devouring the life-blood of the student. Farewell, pinball. You mean no more to me than... Say, you haven't got two nickels for a dime, have you?
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