The DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry, presents the cavalcade of America. Tonight's star, Joan Caulfield in Yankee Doodle Debbie. Tonight's DuPont cavalcade, starring Joan Caulfield as Deborah Sampson, begins late at night in the kitchen of Squire Bradford in the little New England town of Middleborough Four Corners. The year is 1782, the seventh year of the American Revolution. Debbie. What? Debbie Sampson, where are you going this late at night? Never you mind, Daniel Williams. You just pretend you didn't see me. A servant's got no call to be leaving her master's house in the dead of night. You come back here. Daniel Williams, if you so much as breathe that you saw me going out, I... And what's this bundle you're carrying? Let me see. No, don't touch it. Clothes. Oh. A suit of men's clothes. Debbie, what's the meaning of this? If you must know, I'm running away. I'm going to enlist in the Continental Army. Enlist in the Continental... You, a girl, you must be daft. I'll disguise myself. Disguise? I've thought about this for a long time, Dan. I know what I'm doing. Now leave me go. But Debbie, if they discover you and send you back here, the townspeople will run you out. They won't put up with a woman dressing herself in a man's clothing and going... They won't catch me. You wait and see. They won't catch me. Are you... are you the recruiting officer, sir? That I am lot. What can I do for you? I want to join the Continental Army. You want to join the Continental Army? Kind of young, ain't you? Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. How old are you, Sony? Eighteen. That's kind of a late change, isn't it? I've got a cold. What's your name? Graham Ross. Graham Ross. From where? Up in Plymouth. Where? I'm from Plymouth myself. Oh, you are? Ross. There aren't any Rosses in Plymouth. Well, sir, I'm an orphan. Perhaps that's why you don't remember the name. Tell me, lad, what's the foot? What are you hiding from me? Come on now. Come on. I'll tell you. I'm a man of my word. I'm a man of my word. I'm a man of my word. I'm a man of my word. I'm a man of my word. I'm a man of my word. Come on now. I'll tell you, but I hope it won't make any difference, I mean, in my getting in the army. Go ahead. I'm not eighteen. I'm seventeen. But you want to fight, eh? Yes, sir. And you're a hunker and to die? Only if need be. Then why make it more needful than need be? Because when this war is won and America is free, I want to say I helped to fight for it. Well spoken, lad. Well spoken. You're in. You're in. You're in the Continental Army. Here's your bounty money. One hundred Continental dollars. But don't I get a uniform and a musket? You'll be outfitted tomorrow. No. Let us repair to the four corners tavern, lad, and I'll help you drink up that bounty money. Drink? Every soldier worth the name drinks up his bounty money before he gets his uniform. Is that an army regulation, sir? Practically. But I've never tasted spiritist liquors. I'm in a public tavern. By the Italian, you mean? Yes, sir. I'm in a public tavern. I'm in a public tavern. I'm in a public tavern. I'm in a public tavern. I'm in a public tavern. I'm in a public tavern. I'm in a public tavern. By the eternal, are you a man or a cringing female? I'm a man, sir. Then come along and like a man drink up your bounty. Landlord. Aye. Another flogging avail for Private Ross. Please, sir, I'd rather not. Pay him no mind, Landlord. A flogging of your strongest for the two of us. Right you are, Sergeant. I'll get it for you. Sir. Aye, lad. Sir, I thank you for your company, but I'm feeling a little dizzy and I'd better go and engage my lodgings for the night while I'm yet able to see my way to the inn. Why, bless your lad. You've no need to engage your lodging. You'll bunk in my room this night. Huh? Oh, no. I mean, I snore, sir. Yes, sir, I snore most fearful. And so do I. Or so my wife used to tell me, rest her soul. We'll snore in harmony, eh, lad? Oh, it's most kind of you, sir, but I can't. I just can't. You can't? And why, may I ask? No offense, Sergeant, but you see, I've always slept in a room to myself. And do you expect a room to yourself as a private foot soldier in the Continental Army? Oh, no, no, sir, but where so many are together, it's almost the equal of being alone. Or so I should think. Do I understand you to say you'd rather sleep in a barrack with a company of stinking foot soldiers than in my comfortable quarters? Well, sir, when men are fighting for their country, it is permissible to stink a little. I've lost your impudence. On your feet, Rapscallion. What are you going to do, sir? Give you a lesson in monitor. Sir, I meant no offense. I truly meant no... Ah, there she is. There she is, the wench that stole my clothes. Arrest her. No, no, easy there. Watch if she's in trouble, sir. Roger Hutton. Your holiday is over. Squire's carriage is waiting outside to take you home. I won't go, Roger Hutton, and you can't make me. Well, then, to prison you'll go for the theft of my best suit of clothes. I only borrowed it. I was going to mail it back to you as soon as I got my uniform. Uniform? That's right. I don't know who you are, sir, but this young man is no longer subject to civilian law. He's a soldier in the Continental Army. A soldier? Is General Washington recruiting women nowadays? Go on, lot, hit him. You don't have to take that from anybody. No, no, no, just a moment, Sergeant. This so-called soldier you recruited is no soldier at all. She's Deborah Sampson, an indentured servant in the household of Squire Bradford of Plymouth. And the clothes she's wearing are mine, which he stole in order to flee from our lawful employment. I didn't steal them. I only borrowed them. And as for my lawful employment, I was indentured for my father's debts under the tyrannical law of George III, which will no more be law when we have won our fight for freedom. And furthermore, Roger Hutton, I think it was wicked and cruel of you to come here like this. And, and, oh, I wish I was dead. There, there, and I don't take on, so that's no way for a soldier to act. I'm sorry. Lend me your handkerchief, will you, Sergeant? Handkerchief? Yes, she is a woman. Quiet, quiet, everyone. Quiet. Mr. Sampson, you will stand here before the town council and the citizens of Plymouth. Yes, Mr. Brody. Now, Mr. Sampson, you have heard the grave charges brought against you by Roger Hutton. I have. We can only conclude that you were possessed of the devil when you cut your hair, dressed in stolen men's clothing, and imbibed spiritist liquors in a tavern with men. But, but, taking account of your tender years and the natural weakness of your sex, the town council is disposed to pardon you if you can convince us that you are truly repentant. Mr. Brody, respected members of the town council, and all my friends of Plymouth, I am guilty of all the charges against me. But I don't repent what I have done, and I would do it again. But Mr. Sampson. Why is it that when a man wants to fight for his country, it is an admirable thing? But when a woman does so, she is possessed by the devil. Freedom is not the business of men alone, but of every man and woman and child in this land. I only regret that I was prevented from making it mine. But I'm not done with trying, and next time I will not fail. Mr. Sampson, you leave us no choice. From this day forward, until such time as you see fit to repent your actions, you are banished from the fellowship of Plymouth town. So be it. Oh, Debbie, wait a minute. Oh, it's you, Roger Houghton. Don't turn out any bigger. They may banish you too, Roger, for speaking to me. Oh, Debbie, I beg of you. Reconsider, don't put this terrible thing on my conscience. Why didn't you think of that when you charged me before the council? I never dreamed you'd defy them. I only wanted to frighten some sense into you. Look, Debbie, I've got a little money saved up. Enough to buy a farm and buy your freedom from the squire. You can't buy my freedom. Know your own, Roger Houghton. You didn't used to think I was such a bad lot. Oh, I don't know. I'm only sorry for you. Now, Debbie, you're not going to try this foolish masquerade again. You'll be found out and thrown into prison. Oh, what a child you are. Go back with the rest of the sheep. Debbie, you'll be punished for this wickedness. March my words. Joan of Arc was burned at the stake. But I'm afraid I'm not wicked enough to deserve her fate. But you may be wounded and disfigured. Even that might serve a purpose. A few battle scars to show my grandchildren. A reminder of the cost of freedom. For a generation that may have forgotten me. Oh, Debbie, there's no telling what might become of you. I'm sorry, Roger. I must do what I have to do. And that's to join the army. Goodbye. You are listening to the DuPont Cavalcade of America, starring Joan Caulfield, sponsored by the DuPont Company, makers of better things for better living through chemistry. The DuPont Cavalcade continues, starring Joan Caulfield as Deborah Sampson. It is the month of June, 1782. Deborah's plan has worked. So determined was her purpose and so thorough her disguise as a boy that on her second attempt, she succeeded in being accepted into the Continental Army. She is now wearing its uniform and has taken the name Private Robert Shurtleff. As our second act opens, she is marching across the village common of Lemonster, Massachusetts, with Captain George Webb's company of the 4th Massachusetts Regiment. Captain Webb reporting, Colonel. Company all present and accounted for. Good, Captain. We march within the hour. I hope there are no green replacements in your company. We'll be marching south and probably fighting Indian style most of the way, every man for himself. I have one new recruit, Colonel. Oh? He's young, sir, but he's clever and stronger than he looks. He walked 70 miles to enlist and made it in three days. 70 miles? Why didn't he enlist closer to his home? He said he'd heard of you, sir, and wanted to serve with your regiment. Well, I'd like to meet this lad. Very well, sir. Shurtleff? Yes, sir? Ray Grant, come forward. Well, well, well. How old do you say this lad is? State your age, soldier. Eight... 18, sir. Ah. So you're not lying about your age? Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. Of course, my eyes are not as good as they were once, but I... I can't detect a single whisker on that face of yours. Why is that? Why? Why? Well, all the men in my family have light beards, sir. And light voices? Yes, yes, sir. Captain Webb, you take full responsibility for this soldier? Colonel, in the short time since his enlistment, this soldier has won the respect and admiration of the entire company. We've a long, hard march ahead of us. It'll be desperate fighting, but if you say he's up to it, so be it. I hold you responsible. What? What? Corporal Bean. Yes, Shurtleff? What is it? If you go on marching without tending to that foot... What do you expect me to do? If you'll drop out for just two minutes, I have a bottle of liniment and a bandage in my blanket. A bottle of liniment? Yes. You never know when it's going to come in handy. Captain Webb, sir. What is it, Shurtleff? Begging your pardon, sir, but the mess sergeant was suffering something awful with his sore back, so I put him to bed with a mustard plaster. Oh, you did? And how did you think we were going to eat without the mess sergeant? I'll be glad to cook, sir. I know a thing or two about seasoning a stew. Shurtleff, is there anything you don't know a thing or two about? Oh, yes, sir. Captain Webb, sir. Listen to them out there singing, Colonel. Ordinarily, they'd be grumbling, swearing after a march like today's. And Shurtleff's got them singing. But it's not only what he does himself, Colonel, it's the effect on the man. He cheers them up, reminds them what we're fighting for. Captain Webb, what you tell me about this beardless wonder is remarkable. That's why I think he should be promoted, Colonel. Maybe a sergeant. Well, Captain, ordinarily, as you say, I'd recommend the top noncommissioned rank for him, but I don't know. How would the men react to taking orders from a beardless boy? I no longer doubt his age, but there's a certain something about him. Yes, I know what you mean, sir. I felt that too. But still... Besides, we really know so little about him, don't we? Have you talked to him much? Oh, yes, yes, he's talkative enough. Yet, come to think of it, I've come away from talking with him each time no wiser than I was before. You see? When it comes to keeping a man in the dark about his past, he's as tricky as a woman. There's always the possibility that he might be an enemy agent. Why, it's take my commission. He's not Colonel. All the same, I'd like to make sure. Send him around to see me. I'll have him put a goose in his tongue. Private Shirtliff reporting, sir. Sit down, lad. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Relax, lad, relax. You're not going to be disciplined. Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. Like some brandy? Thank you, sir, but I'd rather not. As you wish. Ah, what a beautiful bouquet. French brandy, presented to me by Lafayette. Sure you won't have a taste of it? Uh, no, sir. Never knew a soldier turned down brandy after a hard day's march. Unless he was nursing a secret. A secret, sir? Come now, there's something on your mind, Shirtliff. Why not confide in me? I'm sorry if my manner offends the Colonel. Oh, not at all. On the contrary, I find your manner most pleasing. And Captain Webb has brought me a most satisfactory report of your conduct on the march. Captain Webb is very kind, sir. In fact, we talked about making a sergeant out of you. A sergeant? Yes, would you like that? I'm not sure that I'm qualified, sir. Now, look here, Shirtliff, a certain amount of modesty is becoming in a young man, but don't overdo it. I'm sorry, sir. In fact, that is one report I have of you that I don't like. It seems that you are quite excessively modest. Modest to a fault. I'm... I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, sir. Ah, you know perfectly well what I mean. When the men bathe in the river, you go upstream and bathe apart from them. When the men strip to the waist and push a supply wagon over a hill, you stay in full uniform. Oh, Colonel, you forced me to make a confession. Ah, so there is a secret. Yes, I... I have a deformity. Deformity? A mark, sir. A livid birthmark on my shoulder. No. When I was a child, the people in town wouldn't let their children come near me because they said it was the mark of the devil. Nonsense. Why, I have a birthmark myself. But you know how the common soldiers are, sir. Yes, yes. Well, you've taken the wisest course. Keep your secret, Shirtliff. And if the men cause you any trouble, let me know about it. Better still, I'll make you my orderly. You can bunk here in my quarters. Oh, no, sir. Eh? I mean, I... I... I appreciate the Colonel's kindness, but I think I would prefer to stay with my company. May I ask why? Well, sir, I joined this army to fight with Saber and Musket for freedom. And by your leave, I'll do it. Shirtliff, there's something almost suspicious in your eagerness to fight. Oh, no, Colonel, it's just that... Well, you'll get your chance. I'm sending Captain Webb's company on a dangerous scouting party tomorrow morning. Oh, thank you, sir. You're welcome. You're entirely welcome. Private Shirtliff. Yes, sir? Ride to the rear and tell Lieutenant Bailey we've sighted the Croton River. The Lancy's Raiders are ambushed somewhere between here and the river. The company will split up in pairs and reconnoiter the woods on foot. You have all that? Yes, sir. Will I be going with you, sir? If you want to, yes. But remember, no more stopping with mustard plasters and liniment. This is every man for himself. Yes, sir. Sorry, sir, I didn't... It's all right, it's all right. Down here a minute. Do you see them? No. They're somewhere in these woods, but they're not telling us where. Shh. Nothing but the peaceful sounds of the countryside. That's a Phoebe calling, sir. Well, we've got... Really? Well, we've got to flush these redcoats out. The only way to do that is to go straight on and draw their fire. Yes, sir. You stay here behind cover while I go on. When they fire at me, spot them and return their fire. I'd rather go with you if I may. You know, Shurtleff, I don't know whether this eagerness to go with me comes from bravery or fear of being left alone here. But if you want to, come on. Keep your musketet ready. This is exciting, isn't it? Shh. Just walk and don't talk. Take cover. They've seen us. All right, redcoat. Go ahead, Shurtleff, shoot. Shurtleff, return the fire to you. Fire! Oh, oh. Shurtleff, you won't it? No. No. Go ahead. I'm all right. Don't be foolish. Let me see that wound. Loosen your tunic. If you come near me, I'll run you through with the saber. Are you daft? No stopping for casualties, you said. Every man for himself. At least let me carry you to better cover. No, I'm all right. Go on. All right, then. But stay here. We've located the enemy. I've got to get back and report to the colonel. Don't try to move. I'll send someone to get you in a wagon and take you back to a doctor. I'm glad you've come, Captain Webb. I'm sorry, Dr. Vinnie, that I couldn't get here sooner. Where is Shurtleff? Over here, Captain. Is he all right? I can't make him out. He lies there fully dressed in his uniform. He's allowed me to treat the wound in his forearm, but he refuses to let me examine him for further injuries. He's a very stubborn fellow, Dr. Vinnie. I'm afraid a fever set in because of the long time his wound went without attention. Oh, here he is. Ah, poor lad. Shurtleff, are you awake? Dr. Vinnie. Let me see. There's a very faint pulse. You know, step back a bit. I want to get this tunic off of him, and perhaps weak. Captain Webb. Yes? Are you sure this is the... man who served in your company of the 4th Massachusetts Regiment? Yes, Doctor. This is the man. This is incredible. Captain, I shall remove private Shurtleff to my own home, where my wife will act as nurse and I can be in attendance day and night. We can't let this soldier die until the world has heard her story. Private Shurtleff reporting from sick leave, Captain Webb. Private Shurtleff. Has Dr. Vinnie led you to think that your reception back to my company might be of an unusual nature? Why, no, sir. He's told you nothing? Only that I'm well enough to resume my duties from the medical point of view. At the medical point of view, yes. Private Shurtleff, have you enjoyed making a fool out of me and the whole Continental Army? I beg your pardon, sir. Yes, and well, you might. I don't understand. Oh, of course, I was a fool not to have suspected. Anyone who would carry a bottle of liniment and mustard plasters in his blanket, anyone who could season a stew the way you did. What's the matter, sir? The matter, sir, is that you are a girl. Oh, oh, I think I'm going to faint. Private Shurtleff? Yes, yes, sir. As my last order to you, I order you not to faint. I'll try not to, sir. Here, here, sit down. You know all about me. I'll be drummed out of the Army. If it were in my power, you'd be decorated. Then can I stay on in the Army? You won't tell on me. Listen to me. You've done more than your share. Go back home to the peaceful life you knew before you joined in the service of Liberty. But, sir... Not every woman, nor every man for that matter, can fight with saber and musket. We can all fight in our own way to defend the rights and liberties we've won, Private Shurtleff. What is your name, your real name? Debbie. Deborah Sampson. Debbie. I want to fight, Captain, with the Army. Couldn't you please forget I'm a girl and let me go on fighting? I'm afraid I couldn't. But in a sense, you will go on fighting. The men won't soon forget the girl who gave up everything to shoulder a musket with them. No, I don't think they will forget their Yankee doodle Debbie. Thus, Deborah Sampson, one of the first heroines of our Republic. Honorably discharged from the Continental Army in 1783, she returned to civilian life, married, and had three children. In 1792, the Massachusetts legislature granted her a pension, and in 1818, the federal government awarded her one for life. And even in our own time, our nation has not forgotten Yankee doodle Debbie. For in 1944, a liberty ship bearing her name, the Deborah Sampson, was launched to do its bit as she did hers in another great American struggle for freedom. Our thanks to Joan Caulfield and the Cavalcade players for tonight's drama, Yankee Doodle Debbie. Miss Caulfield will return in a moment. And now our star, Joan Caulfield. Thank you. Being back with the Cavalcade players is always a pleasure for me, and we hope you enjoyed our story tonight. As for next week's show, the star will be Robert Young. Bob is coming back to Cavalcade to play the father of an unusual American family with its trials and troubles. But above all, it's heartwarming courage. Better not miss it. Good night. Tonight's original DuPont play, Yankee Doodle Debbie, was written by Robert Tullman and Robert Anderson. Joan Caulfield is currently starring in Columbia Pictures' Technicolor production, The Petty Girl. Music for the DuPont Cavalcade was composed by Arden Cornwell and conducted by Donald Borez. The program is directed by John Zoller, Cy Harris speaking. Don't forget next week, Robert Young on the DuPont Cavalcade of America, which comes to you from the Velasco Theater in New York and is sponsored by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry.
