I was born an American; I will live an American; I shall die an American and I intend to perform the duties incumbent upon me in that character to the end of my career. I mean to do this, with absolute disregard of personal consequences. What are personal consequences? What is the individual man, with all the good or evil that may betide him, in comparison with the good or evil which may befall a great country in a crisis like this, and in the midst of great transactions which concern that country's fate? Let the consequences fall too soon, if he suffers or if he falls in defense of the liberties and Constitution of his country.

"Hey, Mac, did' ja see this?" Another Station Order!"

"Holy Joe, now we can't eat oranges outside the chow hall! What next?"

Is there such an order? NO. Could there be one? YES. Who makes these orders? YOU DO. Who is responsible for so many binding restrictions? YOU are.

Orders are born, not made. Want to see how? All right. See if you can recognize yourself in any of the following pictures.

Jack and Jim -- their names could be yours -- troop out of the mess hall. In each fist is clutched a round ripe orange. "Catch!" Soon everybody is tossing oranges. Broken fruit litters the sidewalks and streets, although you have been asked to do your part in keeping a trim ship. Result: a Ship's Order? It's a possibility.

Paul and Pat stride around with peacoats unbuttoned, no gloves, violating uniform of the day. "Nobody tells me how to wear my clothes!" Result: Station Order telling everyone how to wear his.

Bill and Bob, heading for Small Stores, pass by a Commander without saluting. This is violation of military courtesy honor the uniform. Result: Station Order that all men salute superiors, or go up for mast.

Tom and Tim, back from liberty, toss lighted butts in a paper-filled GI can. "I'll smoke where I want to." Everybody on the double to his fire station! Result: Station Order limiting smoking to very restricted areas.

Don and Dick, stow liberty cards in wallets, lose them, and are picked up at the Gate. Result: Restriction from liberty, for loss of cards can facilitate entry of saboteurs’.

So it goes. Order after order, restriction after restriction, is brought about by YOUR carelessness or indifference to the common good. Although your superior officers may "make" the orders, remember WHO was responsible for their BIRTH.

Uncle Sam wants this, that and the other thing---those tires and cars you can't get, those dollars in the pay envelope that won't go into your own pocket, the young men from your own block or your home who are told to forget the plans they've made and put on a uniform.

Ever ask yourself who "Uncle Sam" is?

He isn't the Army, the Supply Board, or the Tax Collector. He isn't the President or the man in the Street. He is a lot of people, living and dead--and something that lives in them.

Uncle Sam is the fellow who thumbed his nose at the redcoats and dumped a boatload of tea into Boston Harbor. Uncle Sam is a band-legged youth named Ben Franklin who walked into Philadelphia with the dogs yapping after him, and stayed there to establish a reputation as scientist and statesman which sent him to the court of Louis XV as United States ambassador. He is the homely, unhappy boy from the woods of Illinois who wrote the Gettysburg Address, the puny lad from New York who grew up to be Colonel of the Rough Riders.

Who is Uncle Sam? He is the dreamer who first made a boat propel itself by steam, the farmer boy who put together the first reaper, the visionary who drove a pair of rails through Indian country into California. He is Ford and Kettering and the spirit of Walter Chrysler--men with strong hands and tough clever brains, who have made Detroit a name to frighten little dictators.

Uncle Sam isn't any one man. He is a spirit, a will, a way of doing things that mark us Americans and our country. He is what makes us Americans, not just the descendants of the English, Irish, Polish, or Swedish wanderers who came here generations back. He is proud, two-fisted, and full of enterprise. He is a distillation of all the divine purpose, the deviltry, the dollar worship or what have you that moved our ancestors away from their homelands years ago and over the oceans to the unexplored New World. He is a compound Irish cockiness and Dutch determination, of English fortitude and French ingenuity, of Balkan shrewdness and Nordic self-reliance. He has the German talent for mechanics, the African's and Italian's ear for melody, and the Gallic urge to dream, to create.

Out of this has come a drive, a gusto, an energy which marks us as Americans -- a wayward strength which makes us do the foolish things, the mighty and the beautiful things we have done as Americans.

Uncle Sam is simply the best of you and me, and the way we want to live. He is what we want this land to be --- FREE, and tough and tempestuous....and tender. Yes, tender. He is the Red Cross and relief ships, and free planes, guns, tanks he might have kept for himself last year but sent to hard pressed friends around the world who needed them worse. When some one else is in trouble, he is the most open-handed person in the world. Lots of people, between wars, call him Uncle Sap. They don't call him that now. He has his coat off and his sleeves rolled up...and a look in his eye that means business. He isn't the quaint old hillbilly with the chin whiskers and tight pants any more. He is hardboiled Donald Nelson, wading through a mess of alphabet soup in Washington to get our war production rolling. He is Colin Kelly, diving out of the clouds in a burning plane for one more crack at the Japs. He is a line of young fellows waiting quietly outside the recruiting office with their jaws set -- and a line of mothers, sisters, and older folks waiting at the War Bond windows in their post office. Waiting quietly, with their jaws set.

He is you and me. You and me, and a hundred and thirty million more Americans who are willing to give up their new cars and luxuries and leisure time, willing to pay a staggering tax and higher ones yet to come -- willing to spill some blood, sweat and tears of their own to keep Uncle Sam's country where the free and the brave are still free to live by their own beliefs to worship, to quarrel, to love and build as free men--so help us God!

Many men wonder what they can do to help conserve the resources of our Nation but few take positive measures in that direction. With each man doing his part, the overall conservation aboard this ship would be considerable.

For instance, when going through the chow line try to estimate your capacity in advance, and don't allow more food to be heaped onto your tray than you can eat. To waste food is just what Tojo would like to have you do. Then, in your clothing, try to be economical in your use of shirts, dungarees, towels, and so forth. Keep sending your clothing to the laundry as long as it is in fit condition to wear. Don’t be like "Dizzy Izzy" who throws new clothes and towels away just because they have become soiled. He is the type of moron who feels that so long as he pays for his clothing he can do as he pleases with it. Such waste, if not checked, may eventually lead to our folks at home being rationed just that much more.

In the needless waste of grease, oil, and tools, or the improper use of some piece of equipment, you are unconsciously helping the Axis. The waste in the Navy must be checked.

The ship carries only a certain quantity of each item, and replenishment is always difficult and sometimes impossible. Just figure how many factory workers, packers, longshoremen, and clerical workers are needed; and then consider the precious shipping space on the railroads and in ships which is required finally to put the items aboard, and the logic of the above suggestions will be appreciated.