Making the Army Relevant Again

The US Army understood that all its efforts at propaganda were critically important as it was losing the battle of public relations compared to the other services in the early postwar decades. The collection of compilation documentaries, particularly Victory at Sea, Crusade in the Pacific, and Air Power, attracted the public’s attention and surrendered a public relations primacy to the US Navy and US Air Force that the US Army could only envy. This became more evident over time as the other services also began producing their own self-serving series such as Navy Log and Uncommon Valor. In this context, the presence of The Big Picture “served as a mediating force between the Army’s internal image-makers and the wider world of public opinion.”¹ The army hierarchy understood this imperative and were sensitive to an environment where “in many instances the Army has been poorly portrayed by the other services in their television series.”²

This chapter follows the army’s efforts to present itself as a relevant postwar branch of the service as it restructured to fit the mold of the New Look military. This includes initiatives to engage with science and emerging technologies that brought the army to the edge of new frontiers.

The Army’s New Look

Informational episodes crafted to pique the public interest followed the early Big Picture run. They included stories about “Army Aviation” (TV-188), “The Army Medical Corps” (TV-189), and “The Eyes and Ears of the Army” (TV-192), an overview of the US Army Signal Corps and how it assists the US Navy and US Air Force with their communications needs. In the words of narrator Carl Zimmermann, the signal corps “provides the intricate communications and other facilities without which modern warfare would be impossible.”³ This statement was significant for the army, which continued to feel marginalized by the other services and a Congress that began to question “its relevance to the larger project of Soviet deterrence.”⁴ It was during this decade that the size of the military began to shrink, with the army reduced from 1.6 million personnel in 1952 to approximately 860,000 by 1959.⁵ Although all the services felt the impact of the post-Korea drawdown in manpower, the army felt it the most keenly. Both the air force and the navy traditionally carried less personnel on their rosters and were systems oriented, while the army relied primarily on the ground soldier—easy to train, easy to equip, and easy to replace.

As American forces in NATO transitioned from a conventional ground war strategy to one more reliant on tactical nuclear deterrence during the late 1950s, the shift away from the army to the more technocentric services was more apparent. This was part of the military establishment’s “New Look” restructuring program, which placed the concept of “massive retaliation” at its core. Inspired by President Eisenhower, it emphasized advancements and funding for weapons with a quick-strike capability, such as nuclear-equipped Polaris missiles for the navy and Minuteman missiles for the air force.⁶ One reaction from the army, in 1957, was a directed restructuring of all of its infantry and airborne divisions into a “Pentomic” configuration of five battle groups, each with augmentation by an artillery rocket regiment armed with Honest John tactical nuclear missiles. The army chief of staff, General Maxwell Taylor, thought this would provide a modern feel that showcased the marriage of deterrence and technology and serve as a foil to a further diminishing of resources.⁷ It was featured in at least four Big Picture episodes: “Pentomic 101st” (TV-351), “Pentomic Army” (TV-394), “Pentomic Seventh Army” (TV-421), and “A Sharper Sword and Stronger Shield” (TV-449). Each described an army that melded structural flexibility with the latest nuclear and conventional weapons systems. But this concerted sales pitch was only a minor salve to remedy the struggle against perceived obsolescence. Still feeling the pressure to adjust to changing times, the army’s desperate hope to maintain relevancy rested in continued public relations, and The Big Picture remained one of the best weapons at hand.

To offer proof of the army’s relevance, the APC began its work in earnest, producing one new episode of The Big Picture approximately every ten days.⁸ The episodes that spilled out of its Long Island studios as part of this initiative to continue to bolster the army’s image followed two parallel approaches. The first continued to present contemporary achievements and portrayals of army life to the American public, while the second focused on proving that it was keeping pace with the other services in technology and modernization—the latter being more essential in attracting congressional support and grabbing a bigger slice of the funding pie.

One of the earliest episodes to address a new focus was “Tools for a Modern Army” (TV-208) in 1951, which featured segments on such systems as atomic artillery, jet helicopters, and increased mobility via multi-airdrops. This was a new and important direction that The Big Picture was taking, as noted during the introduction by Carl Zimmermann, the narrator: “In the past we’ve talked to you about the soldier and his weapons. Today The Big Picture concerns itself with the research and development necessary to provide those weapons. The tools for a modern army. The tools that ensure our freedom.”⁹ The episode was quite clear about the connection between technological innovation and American survival, and scripted into the closing narrative was the following rather bald solicitation:

There is no frontier of human knowledge left unexplored by the scouts of military research and development. From their trail blazing there will emerge a more secure America, a nation as nearly invulnerable to aggression as a strong military establishment armed by technological superiority can make it. Only, we must not rest on the accomplishments of the past. Time and money are needed to produce the best tools and equipment possible. The price of liberty, a great American once said, is eternal vigilance. We must be watchful, we must be alert, we must be stronger than any potential foe.¹⁰

Another early episode that addressed the “New Look” focus was “Guided Missiles” (TV-245) in 1954. A narrator introduced it with the claim, “Today we bring you the story of America’s newest weapon in her arsenal of defense, the guided missile.” Then, leaning in toward the camera with a conspiratorial smile, he added, “Portions of this story have been filmed in secrecy and now have been declassified in order that you the American people might know the progress that is being made in the field of guided missile development.” The episode featured an exercise showing the destruction of a fake enemy bomber by an army guided missile, a weapon that was “developed after years of research by army ordnance.”¹¹ Following that thread were other episodes that expounded this theme of technology and the new army. They addressed the orchestrated effort to demonstrate the integration of army missile units, radar technology, and communications networks in protecting the American homeland from a surprise Soviet nuclear attack.¹² That also included the testing of weapons and training of a Pentomic division in the Nevada desert under conditions of an atomic bomb detonation. Characteristic of these mini techno-telefilms was the 1958 production “Army Satellites” (TV-397). It focused on the successful launching of the army’s Explorer I satellite earlier that year as a national response to the Soviet launching of Sputnik I in October 1957. This was a matter of importance for the army, and the narrator’s voice swelled with pride as he proclaimed: “Today’s Big Picture will reveal the dramatic, suspenseful story of how the army, when the prestige of the United States throughout the world had been shaken by events beyond its control, stirred the hearts and emotions of the American people with an epic display of scientific and technical teamwork.”¹³ As a summary, the narration reminded that audience that it was all possible “by the close cooperation of the army with some of the best technical and scientific minds in the land.”¹⁴

Each of these films revealed the army’s new obsession with technology. Unlike other episodes listed in the APC catalog, which highlighted the service’s wide range of achievements, missions, and heritage, these featured scientific advancement as a central character. Almost as an East Coast version of the air force’s Lookout Mountain facility, the APC drew from its talented pool of writers, camera crews, and producers to bring together this collection to make clear the army’s contribution in meeting America’s future needs.¹⁵ Typical of these was “Army Satellites,” which introduced scenes that brought together men and machines in a synergistic relationship resulting in the army’s successful launching of Explorer I. The film showed army scientists and technicians sitting at consoles active with dials and switches, hunched over drafting tables, monitoring rocket engine test sites, and watching hopefully at launch pads. In those moments, the cinematic record stripped the soldiers of their familiar olive-drab field uniforms and cloaked them in technicians’ lab coats, the new warrior’s robes. Again and again, the camera captured the rockets standing at attention, the focal point in the frame, ready at Man’s command to do his bidding. The music that followed the images was serious and driving, hurrying and pressing the scientists and technicians along in their need to respond to the Soviets’ challenge and in their competition with the other services to gain the pole position in the race to be at the technological vanguard for the military. As the film unfolds, it eventually brings the viewer into the control room on the day of the scheduled launch—the atmosphere electric with excitement—to witness the climax of the operation, the satisfactory completion of America’s “first attempt to fire a manmade moon into orbit.”¹⁶ The viewer is on hand to witness the ringing success of the mission, the camera bearing record of the achievement. Bringing “Army Satellites” full circle, the film comes to an end with the renowned rocketeer Dr. Wernher von Braun, who speaks at length celebrating the military’s latest scientific effort and achievement.¹⁷ Like a harbinger in each film, the Big Picture narrator constantly reminds us that the impetus driving the technological imperative is the threat of foreign aggression. Although this collection of productions paled in comparison to some of the efforts of the air force studios on the West coast, for the moment, they made a strong argument for the army’s engagement with emerging technologies.

For these efforts, The Big Picture served as a strong, and available, sales platform to maintain a connection with the public and curry favor with congressional elites by demonstrating the army’s key role in national defense, alongside the air force and navy, through contributions in research and development. Unfortunately for the army, then the air force, the creation of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) in 1958 obviated the military’s role in space exploration. For the army it was already a losing proposition, as only a year later the crew selection of the first astronauts for participation in the Mercury 7 manned-flight program included three navy candidates, three from the air force, and one from the marine corps. No army pilots met the requirements.¹⁸ In 1962 the next group of nine space candidates also did not include a representative from the army. Under those circumstances, the army understood that it needed to establish a new initiative and public relations angle.

Sensitive to the need for a retooled image, the APC followed the lead set forth by the Association of the United States Army (AUSA), the service’s premier lobbying organization, during its annual convention in 1959. Proclaiming a theme of “The Modern Army,” the AUSA hoped to influence change in the coming years. This shaped the APC’s decision to continue to reformat the Big Picture series to “tell the Army’s story in the fields of research and development, education of the individual soldier, and his responsibilities to the Free World at home and overseas.”¹⁹ For the APC producers this was a commitment to a “Changing Picture” in which “television audiences will see the ‘modern Army,’ what it is accomplishing and what its mission for tomorrow is expected to be.”²⁰ In that context, The Big Picture’s role would be to promote the “vast change which has taken place in the Army since the end of hostilities in Korea.”²¹

New Frontiers

One new possibility that appeared was the army’s investment in Arctic operations. It provided a fresh theater that, like space, showcased another bold initiative undertaken by the army to prove that it could operate on the edge of science and technology. Although the air force was also moving in that direction with its own operations, between 1952 and 1965 the army produced at least eleven Big Picture episodes that featured its efforts to explore, exploit, and inhabit, for national defense purposes, the hostile spaces of the severe north. It was in that place, a cold, rugged desert, devoid of human presence, that the army advanced, pushing to the extreme the front line of America’s defense. That was the narrative this Arctic series conveyed to its audiences. In taking on that challenge, the army was engaging with those “new frontiers,” technological and geophysical, that appeared consistent with President Kennedy’s challenge to the nation to discover its full potential and its future. Aside from space, the uninhabited region north of the Arctic Circle provided those possibilities. That was the story the APC wanted to sell by evidence of films in its catalog; although corresponding documentary evidence of office memos, letters, and notes in the archives is not present, the cinematic record provides proof. This saga began with “Operation Blue Jay” (TV-227), “one of the great military secrets of our time.”²² The Big Picture told the story of the newly declassified joint civil-military project to construct a military facility in Thule, Greenland. This was in response to a growing global communist threat as perceived by then president Harry S Truman, who had “proclaimed a national emergency.”²³ Conceived as the “greatest feat of military construction since World War II,” the goal was to establish an airbase for American airpower in a hostile environment.²⁴ Through the lens of The Big Picture the project it served to distinguish the army’s unique capabilities from those of the other services.

“Operation Blue Jay” set the tone for the other episodes that followed. Its storyline traced the blending of a joint venture between the American military and modern industrial might to plan and prepare for a grand adventure. Scenes showed the gathering of assets, mountains of supplies and squadrons of machines collected for the task at hand. Cameras framed crews of workers laboring at loading trains and ships, busy hands securing loads, and feverish supervisors checking and rechecking plans. As with all these episodes, the narration described the efforts as concentrated and focused, bent to a purpose. At last, the Blue Jay expedition was ready, and in a spirit reminiscent of early colonists, an armada of almost one hundred ships left port at Norfolk, Virginia, bound for their new world. The film shared with viewers the hazards of travel at sea, ice fields that blocked the path and rain squalls that hampered the ships’ journey. As the drama increased, the story at last brought the modern pioneers to the shores of their new station. But as the narrator cautioned, the work was just to begin. Teams of men hastily erected shelters, machines carved out a landing strip, and basic facilities became operational. The tempo was swift and efforts were in haste, as the narrator reminded viewers that time was of the essence with the fast approach of the harsh winter season. Throughout the entire episode there was a pervasive sense of urgency encouraged by images of men and machines hard at their tasks, accompanied by an integrated musical score that helped create a serious, determined atmosphere. So it was, as the cinematic story unfolded and the outpost on the barren shores emerged, that an admixture of harmonies, including the faint strains of “Ode to Joy,” ushered the effort to completion. For the time, it appeared that the army had planted its public relations flag 900 miles north of the Arctic Circle.

Through the remainder of the 1950s, The Big Picture continued to capture army operations as they unfolded in the cold north. A plethora of episodes followed the example set in “Operation Blue Jay,” carrying the message that the army could perform its mission even in the most extreme conditions. More important, it “did not miss the opportunity to demonstrate that it was undertaking its own exploration of geophysical extremes,”²⁵ underscoring the army’s participation in the International Geophysical Year (IGY) for 1957–1958 intended to compile “data to contribute to Man’s understanding of the world in which he lives.”²⁶ Subsequent episodes in the 1960s carried the theme of army adventures in the northern tier forward. They recounted efforts to construct Camp Century, a city of tunnels under Greenland’s snow and ice, complete with a functioning nuclear reactor. Other BigPicture productions stressed the necessity of pushing the envelope of scientific exploration without straying far from the contemporary geopolitical reality that “it is imperative that we push the outpost line of defense of the Free World far to the north into the very shadow of the pole itself,” to forestall further communist expansion.²⁷ As part of that initiative, several of the episodes included a screenshot of the Danish flag during the introduction that read, “This film is the story of a research and development project, filmed in Greenland, a part of Denmark. The cooperation of Denmark in making this project possible, as one of her contributions to the North Atlantic Treaty Organization is gratefully acknowledged.”²⁸ This served a dual purpose, both as notice of the army’s scientific achievement and a passing nod to the staunch unity of NATO against possible communist aggression.

The most innovative of the Greenland-themed Big Picture films was the “U.S. Army and the Boy Scouts” (TV-520). Innocuous title aside, it spoke of more than just the army’s long-standing mutually beneficial relationship with the Scouts. Central to the story was the offering of a unique invitation to the Boy Scouts of both the United States and Denmark to send one scout each to spend a six-month winter as a guest at Camp Century. Against images of the scouts performing various tasks, the narrator commented that they had “earned their keep as junior scientific aides in one of the world’s most unusual communities,” adding that their behavior in the severe climate was a “complete credit to the army and the scout movement.”²⁹ This Big Picture film was a clever and well-conceived public relations ploy that at once celebrated the army’s scientific achievements and its relationship with the other NATO member nations, as well as the Boy Scouts. Through this, the army could hope to gain the necessary recognition and support from the American political elites.

During the years that spanned the 1950s through the early 1970s, the Big Picture catalog listed episodes, beside rocketry or the Arctic, that served as continued reminders of the army’s efforts to blaze a trail into the technological future. For example, “Science Moves the Army” (TV-668) was one of a series produced by the APC that focused attention on specialized army centers of technological excellence such as the Army Tank Automotive Center, a place where “military and civilian personnel are facing Space Age problems and producing sophisticated machines of war.”³⁰ Also featured were the Army Combat Developments Command, whose motto was “Today’s Vision, Tomorrow’s Victory,” and the Army Materiel Command. These were unique organizations within the army that addressed the contemporary challenges of procuring and maintaining the latest equipment and weapons systems. Complementing these were other episodes that offered to pull back the curtain for a look into the army’s future. They carried titles that left little doubt as to the message contained in each, such as “Meeting Tomorrow’s Challenge” (TV-765) and “Pioneering for Tomorrow” (TV-815), which proudly proclaimed, “Fluid logic, lasers, semiconductor technology, total instrumentation—these diverse areas of investigation are only a small part of the research and development program being called on by scientists and engineers of the United States Army Materiel Command laboratories.”³¹ Up until the end of its production run The Big Picture continued to stress the army’s technological prowess. In this regard, one of its last episodes in 1971, “The U.S. Army in Space and under the Sea” (TV-819), heralded the service’s accomplishments: “Americans are justly proud of their nation’s achievements in space exploration—achievements in which the United States Army played an important early role.”³² Here, it also introduced yet another possible frontier for the service by adding that “beneath the sea, men of the army move in another alien environment as army divers go underwater to repair military facilities and salvage costly equipment.”³³ The spirit of the film was that it was an army prepared to meet the nation’s needs anytime and anywhere, and hopefully through the Big Picture series the congressional appropriations committees would recognize that.

Unlike the cinematographic approach used for the Korean War episodes and others in the catalog, the APC changed the mood of the theme of the scientific and technological films by varying its techniques. Setting the tone, the episode “Science Moves the Army” appeared in color. This switch to the new format allowed The Big Picture to keep pace with the newer generation of televisions in American homes and to send a signal that the army was also following technology’s lead. Scenes from “Top of the World” (TV-543) and “Icecap” (TV-664) showed Camp Century in Greenland, where audiences witnessed military scientists sliding control rods into an atomic reactorto support a “nuclear powered city under the ice.”³⁴ The visual record replaced narration to tell the story of an army that was multifaceted, ready to fight aggression but also ready to face new scientific challenges. Light, energetic musical scores accompanied scenes of Sno-Cat and Sno-Scout vehicles sprinting across open white expanses and helicopters delivering supplies to northern reaches amid swirling snows. Gone were the gray-toned scenes of struggling military columns wending their way across a ruined landscape alongside desperate refugees. Gentler leitmotifs replaced the heavy-toned musical dirges of war. This was new and exciting, this was the future. Cameras revealed the military working side by side with civilians in boardrooms and laboratories, handling complex equipment and monitoring complicated gauges. Still images of futuristic weapons and vehicles delivered the message as well as any scripted dialog—the army could, and was keeping pace with the other services to build a brighter tomorrow. The APC production crews applied all their skills to show the army in this light.

Big Picture Out of Focus

During its twenty-year run (1951–1971), the Big Picture series encountered certain periods of time that offered challenges to its production. Some were minor, others were significant. Among the minor was a potential boycott threatened by the New York branch of the Screen Actors Guild (SAG), which disputed the rate of pay of civilian actors and crews at the APC in October 1967.³⁵ That was quickly resolved without any disruption to operations at the studios. However, more significant challenges arose, which had the potential to bring production to a complete standstill. These came in the form of competition from other shows, funding shortfalls, and objections to the contents of the Big Picture message. In each case except the last, the Big Picture was able to weather the tempest and continue its course. Of these challenges, the first was a consequence of a national zeitgeist and required the least response.

As a military-themed show, The Big Picture never appeared alone during its production run in the 1950s. Aside from the popular but shorter-duration documentaries such as Victory at Sea and Air Power, some other anthology or series that offered The Big Picture competition for audience share always existed. Shows such as Battle Report—Pentagon or The Facts We Face premiered a year sooner than The Big Picture, then aired concurrently on other television networks. Other shows such as Navy Log launched later but also aired for several concurrent years. Among these others, the only program that ran for more than 100 episodes besides The Big Picture was Navy Log, which listed 103 stories. Although the army show exhibited greater longevity with over 800 episodes, by comparison the Navy Log tales, which contained dramatic reenactments by professional actors, seemed to garner greater popular appeal during its television lifespan. As historian Lisa Mundey notes, the anthology, which only ran from 1955 to 1958, “presented positive images of the sea service,” while showcasing its role in the Cold War and projecting the navy as “family friendly as well.”³⁶ It offered mixed story lines of interpersonal relationships together with individual successes and disappointments. Contemporary polls offered positive comments about the series from a younger male demographic, who opined that the show helped to “show the Navy as a good builder of men” and “that it’s tough, but it makes you admire them.”³⁷ This set a challenge for the army, which eschewed drama and was concomitantly focusing a great deal of its effort through The Big Picture on selling itself as a modern, technologically savvy service. Against this, the army was also competing for a larger share of age-eligible recruits, finding it difficult to meet its post-1947 goal of 30,000 volunteers a month, but gaining only 12,000 through enlistments.³⁸ As a partial solution, the army concluded many of its contemporary Big Picture episodes with this upbeat on-screen pitch, “You can be an important part of The Big Picture. You can proudly serve with the best equipped, the best trained, the best fighting team in the world today, the United States Army.”³⁹ Faced with stiff competition from shows like Navy Log, recruitment became a difficult task when compounded by a growing spirit of antimilitarism in the nation driven by war weariness from both World War II and the Korean conflict, a pervasive wariness from Cold War fears of nuclear destruction, and an unpopular draft.⁴⁰ While some historians may consider that Navy Log “was the programme [sic] the Big Picture would vainly aspire to become,” this aspiration seems hardly likely, considering that its army producers did little to adjust either the format or content to achieve its competitor’s popularity.⁴¹

Another on-screen television challenge was posed by situational comedies that appeared opposite The Big Picture, such as the Phil Silvers Show (1955–1959). Its fictionalized main character, Sergeant Bilko, was a consummate con man, always out to make money through gambling and get-rich-quick schemes while flouting army regulations. In the process he made fools of officers, the military hierarchy, and any authority figure. As a sitcom it drew rave reviews from critics and the public as it “lampooned much of contemporary active duty military life.”⁴² But this did not always sit well with the army, particularly the Public Information Division, which protested that several episodes of the show had gone too far in lampooning the military. They considered the many exploits of Bilko and his gang as poor representations of army life. As Colonel Robert Shinn of the Public Information Division protested to the assistant secretary of defense for public affairs: “While it is appreciated that the program is a comedy and therefore must necessarily deal in exaggerated and often implausible situations, we have found from experience that some viewers take quite seriously those aspects of Bilko’s portrayal bordering on criminal acts.”⁴³ Shinn also noted that the show went beyond criticizing the military and on at least one occasion lampooned President Eisenhower and President Charles de Gaulle of France, and “made snide remarks about the Democrats.”⁴⁴ The PID forwarded an appeal to the show’s producers to modify the scripts to remove the offending segments, but they ignored it. In the end, the episodes aired in their original form. Although the show may have ruffled the feathers of army leadership, as well as some veterans and members of the public, it still garnered a host of accolades. In 1955 alone it won Emmy awards for Best Comedy series, Best Actor, Best Comedian, Best Comedy Writing, Best Producer, and Best Director. Subsequently, it won three Emmys each of the following years through 1958. As much as the Phil Silvers Show may have smudged the army image, it remained widely popular and stood in contrast to the more sober army portrayals by The Big Picture, which remained fact based and relied heavily on its use of a documentary-style format of narrator voice-overs and archived film footage. This might suggest that it was an understanding that “anti-militarist sitcoms” with an irreverent cast of characters like Bilko “eased fears associated with the move to a permanently mobilized military force” after 1945.⁴⁵ Nevertheless, it was hard for the army to accept that type of image.

In addition to television, Hollywood provided some challenges to the army image. These transpired as film producers worked to convert popular postwar novels such as Norman Mailer’s The Naked and the Dead (1948), Herman Wouk’s The Caine Mutiny (1951), and James Jones’s From Here to Eternity (1951) from print to the silver screen. As historian Lawrence H. Suid notes, in his work Guts and Glory: The Making of the American Military Image in Film, the effort threatened to sour the previously strong relationship between the studios and the military. The difficulty was in the novels, which the military establishment considered “essentially unflattering portrayals of the military.”⁴⁶ As a result, the army balked when Columbia studios approached them to establish a cooperative arrangement for the production of From Here to Eternity, a story of pre–World War II military life in Hawaii. The studio expected to once again take advantage of Hollywood’s earlier “long-standing reliance on military men, equipment, and locales to provide accurate ambience.”⁴⁷ But this time it was not to be unless the studios made significant changes to the story line. That included rectifying negative portrayals of incompetent, weak officers, illicit extramarital affairs, and explicit brutality and punishment. The army was concerned that “the portrayal of a situation that no longer existed would mislead the millions of mothers, wives, and sweethearts of men currently in the service.”⁴⁸

Although the army made a number of suggestions for adjustments to the proposed scripts, the film’s producers, who were determined to remain as true to the original story as possible, subsequently rejected most of them. Speaking on behalf of the Army Pictorial Center, Clair Towne, a representative of the Defense Department’s Public Affairs Office, commented, “The treatment [of the story] portrays situations which, even if they ever did exist, were certainly not typical of the Army that most of us know, and could serve only to reflect discredit on the entire service.”⁴⁹ Concurring with Towne, Donald Baruch, chief, Motion Picture Production of the DOD Public Affairs Office, added that the film was “never going to be a good story for the Army.”⁵⁰ Upon its release in 1953, From Here to Eternity received critical acclaim and several Academy Awards. Against these types of films and television shows, fraught with negative depictions, the army continued to produce and rely on its Big Picture series to cultivate a positive public image and portray a contemporary branch of the service that was professional, modernized, and technically competent.

Another challenge for The Big Picture during this period was funding. Between 1952 and 1957 the army budget decreased by half, falling from $15.7 billion to $7.5 billion.⁵¹ Within those allocations the service had to determine how to best resource all of its major program areas, which included training, maintenance, operations, research and development, and personnel support. Folded into this was the army’s public relations mandate to continue to sell the service’s story and maintain its recruiting goals. Central to that effort was The Big Picture. With an internal goal set to produce thirty-nine episodes a year, the Army Pictorial Center was sensitive to any constriction of the funding pipeline.⁵² The ASDPA budget shrank from $14 million at the height of the Korean conflict to $3.2 million in 1956.⁵³ Correspondingly, the OPI budget shrank from $971,445 in 1952 to $500,000 in 1954.⁵⁴ During the 1956–1957 season, when the army budget was reaching a six-year low, the chief of information, Maj. Gen. G. S. Meloy, petitioned the army’s deputy chief of staff for operations to increase the existing APC budget from $223,000 to $248,600 to cover rising production costs for a projected schedule of thirty-five films.⁵⁵ These tight conditions continued through 1958, with the cost estimate of a typical episode placed at $11,600 and Col. John Weaver, troop information chief, declaring “the Financing problem to be basic and in greatest need for attention.”⁵⁶ By late 1959, the approximate cost of writing and producing a single episode had risen to $14,000.⁵⁷

During those thin budget years, however, the Office of the Chief of Information never eschewed the offer of a helping hand when it appeared. A number of archived letters and memos reveal the appearance of unsolicited sources of financial aid and resources during the late 1950s. A May 1957 letter from the CINFO to the president of KOATV-Radio in Denver, Colorado, gratefully acknowledged the studio’s cooperation and support in the production of the Big Picture episode “Mister Army” (TV-371). This included the use of floor space, lighting, technicians, and “union members of KOA,” all at great cost savings to the APC.⁵⁸ In December 1958, a letter from the new CINFO, Maj. Gen. H. P. Storke, conveyed appreciation to the army’s chief of engineers for that office’s contribution of $15,000 toward the completion of the episode titled “Thayer of West Point” (TV-432), which featured the army’s “first engineer,” Sylvanus Thayer.⁵⁹ These funds helped bridge a production shortfall of approximately $20,000. A different unsolicited offer of $10,000 came from the USO toward the completion of “United Service Organization (USO): Wherever They Go” (TV-467), an episode that celebrated that organization’s long history of entertainment and support of service members deployed overseas.⁶⁰ As welcome as they were, these unexpected bonuses provided little salve for the wounded budget. This situation would continue until the overall military funding began to rebound with the advent of the nation’s involvement in Southeast Asia in the early 1960s.

The army’s Big Picture resourcing situation was, however, never improved by the service’s refusal to surrender creative control of the series’ production to a commercial backer. Although there was earlier consideration to develop The Big Picture as a commercially produced army television series, this concept never gained traction, because the army wanted complete creative control. As attractive as commercial resourcing might have been as a solution to alleviate funding shortfalls, it could have opened the door to unwanted external shaping of the army’s message, or endorsement of a corporation, system, or particular product. Although there is no evidence to claim that commercial support had an influence on Navy Log, The Big Picture’s 1955–1958 competitor, its relationship with first CBS then ABC might suggest that the navy remained sensitive to the expectations of those networks. In return, Navy Log enjoyed prime-time television slots, granting it a larger share of viewership than the syndicated Big Picture series.⁶¹ Regardless of the funding challenges, The Big Picture still possessed a lifespan that far exceeded that of any comparable military television series of the time.

Some of the greatest of the challenges that The Big Picture faced were objections to the contents of its episodes. A contentious situation first arose when the producers attempted to release a 1954 episode titled “Atrocities in Korea” (TV-242). The APC developed the piece as a “documented report of the crimes and atrocities committed against Americans and other United Nations prisoners of war by their Communist captors,” and it was replete with footage of bodies in ditches and the pallid faces and sunken eyes of survivors.⁶² The narrator described the images as “shocking” and “not pleasant,” and added a dramatic edge by disclosing that “some of them are revealed for the first time” to provide the “stark truth that every American should know.”⁶³ Firsthand accounts gained from interviews with former prisoners of war, several of them still in hospital gowns during their recovery, laced the episode. The narrator was also keen to establish a sentimental connection with viewers by having each of them state their name and hometown, ala Ernie Pyle. Among those interviewed was Maj. Gen. William Dean, former commander of the Twenty-Fourth Infantry Division, whom the enemy had captured and held as prisoner for thirty-seven months. In all these cases the stories told of harsh conditions, physical brutality, lack of adequate food and medical care, and repeated attempts by the North Koreans to indoctrinate the POWs.

Just prior to the episode’s airing, however, the deputy secretary of defense, Roger M. Kyes, and the under secretary of state, Gen. Walter Bedell Smith, jointly moved to deny its release. The approach of a Big Four Conference, scheduled for 25 January 1954 in Berlin, drove their fear that it might cause some difficulty by irritating the Soviet delegates.⁶⁴ Other notes of caution they expressed were for the impact it might have on the sensitivities of the American public, as well as the possible negative effect on the ongoing diplomatic efforts at Panmunjom.⁶⁵ Several Republican members of Congress criticized any restrictions on its release, claiming that the State Department was “following the line of appeasement” and calling for a congressional investigation of the reasons cited.⁶⁶ Senator Charles E. Potter (R-MI) earlier that month had submitted for the record a lengthy request for a United Nations committee to investigate the communist atrocities.⁶⁷ This was an initiative he and other members of Congress had been pursuing since June of 1950. In this context, the appearance of the Big Picture episode became an additional weapon in their fight to uncover the facts and sell them to the public. It was again referenced in February of 1954 by Congressman R. Thurmond Chatham (D-NC), who stated for the Congressional Record that “no one should be surprised at the United States Army’s report on the horrible Communist atrocities in Korea,” adding that “official documentary films show thousands of mutilated civilians’ and prisoners’ hands tied behind their backs.”⁶⁸ Eventually, “Atrocities in Korea” aired that February even though the APC had already shipped ten copies of the films to several television stations in the greater New York area.⁶⁹ Although the contents of this one episode received challenges in what at first appeared to be a tempest in a teapot, its importance grew as it emerged as a key piece of propaganda through its exposure of communist misdeeds during the tense anticommunist atmosphere of the 1950s. Though the series managed to survive this storm, that was not to be the case with the next greater challenge, when The Big Picture would find itself an unwitting pawn in a larger political game.

In December 1969, Senator J. William Fulbright (D-AK), chair of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, submitted evidence into the Congressional Record that suggested the military establishment was using television improperly as a means to manipulate the thinking of the American public. In this context, he cited the army and The Big Picture as a prime example. Fulbright claimed that “the manner in which this program [The Big Picture] operates illustrates how the military services can quietly develop their extensive public relations capability with little public or Congressional knowledge or interference.”⁷⁰ Central to his complaint was concern that the army was crafting Big Picture segments on military operations in Vietnam with the intent to cultivate public support for the war. Evidence of the existence of these concerns resides in the tone of some comments revealed in an earlier internal office memo to Maj. Gen. Harry Storke, the army chief of information. Its content advised caution in the production of the Big Picture episode, “Your Defense” (TV-399), because “certain dialogue introduces a distinctly political flavor to THE BIG PICTURE and raises many questions such as using THE BIG PICTURE for political purposes.”⁷¹ Phrases such as “defense is costly to be sure, but it is cheaper than war,” and “we cannot afford to relax now. An adequate national and international defense is necessary to our peaceful way of life” were just some of those woven throughout the narrative, and these do appear scripted to shape public and political opinion toward supporting a more expansive military.⁷² Visual evidence such as this fueled Fulbright’s quest, together with that of other politicians, to begin to question the military’s motivations and its use of the Big Picture series.

In parallel to this concern, Fulbright also exhibited worry regarding the excessive amount of funding the series required to remain operational. He felt there was a need to curb the spending, which reached a cost of $902,529.34 for that year.⁷³ In November of 1970, Congressman Charles E. Bennett (D-FL) added his voice to the Congressional Record, endorsing Fulbright’s position regarding costs with a proposal to cap Pentagon public relations spending among all the services at $10 million. Referring to Fulbright’s earlier criticisms, he made the claim that “millions of dollars are being spent by the Department of Defense for public relations purposes” adding, “this is an unconscionable waste . . . we are dangerously skimping on vital projects necessary for survival.”⁷⁴ This was accompanied by the insertion of an article from the Wall Street Journal that quoted Representative Henry Reuss (D-WI), who claimed that the Pentagon’s public relations program was nothing more than “propaganda, hucksterism and flackery at public expense.”⁷⁵

The pages of the Congressional Record reveal that Senator Fulbright had continued his criticism of The Big Picture and the military public relations apparatus on into December of 1970. That month he claimed, “I have here an illustration of just how far the Defense Department goes in brainwashing the American people in the guise of an information program . . . this is a film catalog of the Army’s ‘Big Picture’ series.”⁷⁶ As chair of the Foreign Relations Committee he felt sure that the military designed its effort to “persuade the people of the United States to certain points of view, especially about foreign policy.”⁷⁷ He continued his criticism, emphasizing that “the films are made with government money, paid for by the taxpayers, for the purpose of what they [the military] call informing, but I would call it brainwashing of the American people.”⁷⁸ In parallel to these accusations, which became a matter of record, Fulbright penned The Pentagon Propaganda Machine, which appeared in publication that same year. Intended as an exposé, it charged that

one of the arms of the Defense Department monster bureaucracy is the military public relations apparatus that today is selling the Administration’s Southeast Asia policy, just as it sold the Vietnam policy of the previous Administration, with increasing emphasis on patriotic militarism and activity directed against its critics. The enthusiasm and dedication of the purveyors of the hard military line are such that their present course could easily be changed so as to direct attention to the removal of those in the Congress who question actions of the executive branch and the growth of military influence.⁷⁹

In evidence, a review of The Big Picture’s film catalog does reveal that between 1962 and 1971 there were 41 episodes out of 240 that addressed army operations in Vietnam. Of these, 31 were specifically about Vietnam, and another 10, under the title “Your Army Reports,” incorporated five- to seven-minute segments on a topic relating to the conflict there. The preponderance of all these, 34, were released during the shorter period 1966—1971, and of those, five specifically addressed policy making by sharing with their audiences the motivations for American intervention in Southeast Asia. The reasoning, offered by Gen. Paul D. Harkins, commander of the Military Assistance Command in Vietnam during the 1962 episode “Hidden War in Vietnam” (TV-562), was simply that “we have helped and are helping all free people who seek to defend themselves from the Communist scourge.”⁸⁰ This was at a time when only American military advisory groups were in the country. But by 1966, a year after the first combat units came ashore at Da Nang, another episode, “Why Vietnam?” (TV-674) took a different approach and used historical film clips to make its case. Beginning with the 1938 appeasement of the Nazis at the Munich Conference, followed by combat footage of the seemingly unprovoked North Korean invasion of its southern neighbor in 1950, the episode traced the trajectory of events and emphasized that it was the responsibility of all free people to check aggression wherever it appeared. Included in the narration was the admonition “peace in our time—a shortcut to disaster.”⁸¹ So the buildup in Vietnam was justified as a means to stem the spread of the communist stain. Any documentary proof, however, that the OCINFO or the APC was purposely shaping the development of episodes to deliver a message regarding American involvement in Vietnam is lacking. Investigation of available archival materials did not reveal any memo, letter, or prescribed guidance outlining production plans for these films.

Table 2.1. A total of forty-one episodes addressed American military involvement in Vietnam. Those under the “Your Army Reports” title provided short segments about operations there. An example is “Your Army Reports: Number 8,” which contained a story about the South Vietnamese Women’s Army Corps. (Data Source: NARA, College Park)

Military intents and purposes aside, these Big Picture episodes were still interpreted by Senator Fulbright and his political allies as much more than simple informational or patriotic films created to educate the public and military members about the army’s worldwide operations. They interpreted them as being intentionally manipulative. In that regard the senator noted, “It is belaboring obvious, but they understandably glorify the army’s role in that war.”⁸² He went further by claiming that these Big Picture films “take an approach to the complexities of today’s world that is oversimplified and one dimensional.”⁸³ To Fulbright, the military—and in this case the army—had overstepped its bounds by taking on a role that was the province of other government offices, such as the State Department. It had in that course attempted to shape Americans’ opinions with films that “hardly can give the viewing public an objective and considered explanation of our overseas military involvements.”⁸⁴ Tarring both radio and television outlets with the brush of collusion, Fulbright charged that they were “heavy users of the military’s propaganda and public relations output” and that “some of their executives should devote more attention to filling their public service time examining the grave domestic problems besetting the country instead of using ‘V-films’ and the Army’s ‘Big Picture.’”⁸⁵

What also appears evidential, if not coincidental, was the fact that some of the army chiefs of information between the mid-1950s and the early 1960s had histories of work in the information and intelligence fields while in the service. While not necessarily surprising, or condemning, that fact does lend itself to the argument that the Big Picture series, along with radio productions such as The Army Hour and other media vehicles, served to shape the thinking of viewers and listeners. Such was the case of Lt. Gen. William W. “Buffalo Bill” Quinn, who served as the army’s chief of information (CINFO) from 1959 to 1961. Earlier, as the chief of staff of the Pentagon, he had become familiar with the power of the video during his experiences producing the Blue Badge series through The Big Picture. Several years afterward, he became the army’s deputy chief of staff for intelligence (G2), subsequently filling the positions of deputy director of the Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA) and chief of operations of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA).⁸⁶ This résumé suggests that Quinn was always cognizant of the effect of information flow and management and its persuasive power among audiences. He was in position to influence the development of the post-Korea Big Picture episodes that the APC scripted to sell the army in a better light: “Our established information objective [is] to depict the Army as a modern, progressive and forward thinking force.”⁸⁷ Quinn was also on hand to influence the development of the episodes celebrating the polar ice cap expeditions and early Vietnam episodes such as “Hidden War in Vietnam” (TV- 562), which cast the mold for others to follow.

Figure 2.1. Lieutenant General William Wilson “Buffalo Bill” Quinn. He served as the army chief of information 1959-1961 during a period of tight resourcing. Typical of most chiefs, he regarded the Big Picture series as key to selling the army as a modern, progressive force. In the latter half of his military career Quinn was involved in intelligence work, and after retirement served as chief of operations of the CIA. (Image Source: US Army)

Major General Charles G. Dodge succeeded Quinn in 1961. He maintained the philosophy of casting the army in a positive light and notably provided a lecture at the Army War College (AWC) in April 1962 titled “Public Understanding and the Army Information Program.” In it he emphasized that a key goal of the Army Information Program (AIP) was to continue changing public attitudes “towards a favorable view of the Army.”⁸⁸ Filling the chair as CINFO after Dodge in February 1963 was Maj. Gen. George V. Underwood, who had served as his deputy since January 1961. He remained in the position as CINFO until 1966, and like Dodge, he emphasized the importance of maintaining a strong public image for the army. As his predecessor had done, Underwood also lectured on the subject to an audience of senior military leaders at the AWC, in 1963. Together, both Dodge and Underwood understood that an affirming image was imperative for the army, but both also emphasized in their lectures “candor is an indispensable ingredient in the Army’s public relations formula.”⁸⁹ This attitude, offered with candor by men who believed they were doing the right thing, was a commitment to sell a prescribed catalog of defined American values and actions through the military.⁹⁰ When that is taken together with the content of the Big Picture messages, there is little surprise that the army public relations apparatus drew the charges leveled by Senator Fulbright and other progressive politicians who no longer accepted the exceptionalist consensus endorsed by the military, seeing it as an outmoded lens through which to view the world. The political winds were shifting, it seems, and the United States military establishment was feeling the increasing heat of criticism from Congress, the American public, and foreign allies concerning its operations in Southeast Asia.

Within a year of Fulbright’s last congressional diatribe, the army position became untenable and, acceding to external pressures, it decided to terminate the production of The Big Picture. A short article on page 3 of the 16 July 1971 Stars and Stripes Pacific edition announced the decision. Titled “Army’s Famed Series Signs Off, ‘The Big Picture’ Fades from TV Screen,” the news account listed the reasons for the termination. These included a need to develop a more relevant contemporary television series, a large production price tag of $727,000 per year, and declining audience interest. However, no mention was made of the accusations of propaganda or content manipulation. The final episode, “Drill Sergeant” (TV-823), aired in late 1971. It signed off without any recognition that it was the last in a series that stretched back two decades. Only a notation that it was “Presented by the Office of the Chief of Information” brought it to a close. In the end, as the screen went blank on The Big Picture, officially a victim of changing times and the budget axe, the show still possessed a wide audience on “428 commercial, educational and cable television stations, including 51 of the American Forces Radio and Television Service in Europe and the Far East.”⁹¹

Figure 2.2. Image of Maj. Gen. William Quinn, chief of army information (second from left), receiving several awards from the conservative Freedoms Foundation, including one honoring The Big Picture (March 1960). (Image Source: In Focus, March 1960)

During the course of its twenty-year production cycle The Big Picture received a number of accolades in recognition of its accomplishments as a television series. For a period of ten years from 1960 to 1970 the show won the conservative Christian Freedoms Foundation’s George Washington Honor Medal for the best military documentary of the year.⁹² In 1960 alone, three Big Picture episodes gained recognition with the award.⁹³ Another honor came in 1967 with the episode “The Red Diamond” (TV-693). Developed as a history of the Fifth Infantry Division (Mechanized), it featured training of individuals and units at its station in Fort Carson, Colorado, and was “selected as the best of its kind” at the annual International Film Festival in Versailles, France.⁹⁴ Still, the highest honor came in 1968 when The Big Picture won an Emmy, the first for a DOD production. The National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences presented the award for the episode “The Song of the Soldier” (TV-725), which focused on the talents of the US Army band and chorus. The film, which differed in format from other Big Picture episodes, sans the usual sober introductory narrative, contained vignettes of America’s martial past set to song and music. Viewers appreciated it for its moving renditions and innovative style that bridged the past from the Revolutionary War to the ongoing Vietnam conflict and seemed a fitting coda for a series that in a few short years would fade away.

To more fully understand those messages that the Big Picture broadcast, and the influence they had, this study continues by examining the catalog of Big Picture films by separating them into three categories according to overarching subjects: the Cold War, American exceptionalism, and the army way of life. Each of the following chapters takes one of the themes and collects the relevant episodes to unpack and examine them in the context of the messages they delivered.