"Several years ago the Swegle family moved to a small place outside Dixon, Ill. That was when Mr. Swegle’s health gave out, and he had to give up farming. They were getting alone [sic] fine there with a garden, enjoying life.

"The the [sic] war came. Four sons went into uniform. Ivan, 28, is an air corps mechanic in the Southwest Pacific. Stanley, 27, is an infantryman in North Africa—as far as the family knows. Ellwyn, 20, is about to become a pilot, and Sidney, 25 is a tail gunner—or was until his plane screamed earthward over enemy territory.

"A mighty ordnance plant grew on Dixon's farm land. It later became the home of the bazooka, famous anti-tank weapon. It also became the workshop of Mary Ellen Swegle, and Mary Olive [Thrasher] Swegle, a daughter-in-law, and finally, Mother and Dad. The four of them work a swing shift at the Green River Ordnance Plant in Dixon. Mildred and Howard, too young for ordnance work, keep the home fires burning.

"Mary Ellen, Mary Olive and Mrs. Swegle work on the same production line in adjoining bays. They measure powder, load shells, test them for size, crimp and stencil them. From their bay, shells go to the packing room where they are shipped with love and kisses to the fellows who are going to drop them on you—know—who.

"The Swegles like the swing shift. They swing every two weeks—from the 8 to 4:30 shift to the midnight to 8 shift. Everybody swings with his own shift—because they know each other; because they work for production records. This base made a record recently—80 truckloads of shells were loaded in one day.

"Nearly all on the line where the Swegles work are women. Nearly all have someone in service. They look like happy gnomes in their beige coveralls. They work like mad—but it's a controlled, safe speed. They whistle like mad when a man visitor is shown through.

"They have clean shower rooms, clean rooms to change clothing, good food. They celebrate birthdays with cake and gifts, have dances. They have fun, but they never forget their job is to speed ammunition to battle fronts.

"In the Swegle home, daughter Mildred shops, plans and gets meals. Howard, 13, hurries home from school to do chores. He may have to take over meal planning—Mildred plans on entering nurses training.

"The munition-packing part of the family comes home with a rush in the evening, demanding mail. They are energetic and noisy. They help Mildred get the meal on the table, and talk shop.

"Mrs. Swegle likes loading shells better than farm work. Mr. Swegle says he’ d rather farm. Mary Ellen would rather stay home and cook. She loves to cook. Mary Olive dreams of a home of her own. Howard says he's going back to help brother Donald farm. Last summer he helped make hay, feed pigs, and other chores.

"Retire? Well, not now, thank you. Especially not since they received such good news. You know, they found 45 cards and letters in their mail box one day—all from people living in Pennsylvania and New York. The cards said that Sidney Swegle had been permitted to broadcast from a German prison camp, asking anyone listening to notify his parents in Dixon, Ill., that he was alive and well."