Suspense.
And the producer of radio's outstanding theater of thrills,
the master of mystery and adventure,
William and Robeson.
The security of mankind is guaranteed by the balance of nature.
If there weren't bigger fish to eat smaller fish,
eventually there would be more fish than water for them to swim in.
The rabbit is public enemy number one in Australia
because there is no indigenous predator with a craving for horse and pepper.
The law of the jungle is implacable.
And when it is broken, when nature's balance is upset,
man had better head for the hills.
In a moment we bring you a classic story of nature's imbalance.
On one side, the frightful Formosidi-i Dorilini,
ants, millions of South American army ants.
And on the other, a man who knew no fear.
Listen. Listen then as William Conrad stars in
Line Engine vs. the Ants, which begins in 60 seconds.
The folklore of America is filled with accounts of superhuman sailors
like Old Stormalong and extraordinary ships like the Corsair.
Perhaps our confidence and our strength to meet any challenge
enabled our forefathers to chart the unknown.
Perhaps that's why we just had to have the largest sailing vessel ever built.
She was so big that all the officers and men were mounted on horses.
Her masts penetrated the clouds and the top sections were on hinges
so they could be bent over to let the sun and moon pass.
Well, it was during one of those September storms
when suddenly the Corsair found herself heading down the English Channel
between Calais and the Cliffs of Dover.
But the channel just wasn't wide enough.
The captain shouted to Old Stormalong at the wheel,
Will she make it?
May scrape a bit of paint off on our sides, said Old Stormalong,
but she'll go through, send all hands over and soap the sides.
And you know they soaked that ship so good
that Big Hulk slipped through just as sweet as honey.
Of course ever since then, the Cliffs of Dover have been pure white.
That's from the Corsair's soap and the action of the waves.
Folklore belongs to every nation's legendary past
and I guess we Americans have our share of some tall ones.
And now, William Conrad in Leningen versus the Ants,
a story well calculated to keep you in...
suspense.
I first met Leningen while performing my duty as commissioner
of the Toto Santo district along the upper reaches of the Santísima River.
As my boat neared his plantation landing,
I saw him upon the riverbank regarding me with mild interest.
A great Hulk of a man with bristling gray hair, bulky nose and lucid eyes.
His entire appearance somehow suggested an aging and shabby eagle.
I came quickly to the point of my visit and issued my warning.
Leningen puffed placidly at a huge cigar and seemed unimpressed.
It's decent of you paddling all this way just to give me the tip, commissioner.
But even a herd of crocodiles couldn't frighten me from my plantation.
You don't understand. These aren't creatures you can fight.
These are army ants. They're an elemental force, a gigantic catastrophe, an act of God.
Ten miles long, two miles wide, ants, nothing but ants, and each one as big as your thumb.
They can strip a man's body to a skeleton in six minutes.
Commissioner, in the three years I've been here, I've met and defeated more than one catastrophe.
Flood, drought, plague. I'm not going to run from this one.
I tell you, Leningen, you don't know these ants.
But he nearly sat there puffing at his cigar and regarding me with a grin that I knew it was hopeless.
As I boarded my launch and cast off, I felt a sudden resentment toward this obstinate madman.
And yet with it was something else. I'd never met a man like this before.
I stood on the bank of the river watching the commissioner's launch until it rounded a bend and was lost to sight.
There was a strange look in his eyes as he stared back at me.
Clearly he thought me insane. Well, he would have not been the first to think so.
But I knew my own powers. I was sure of myself.
I had seen men defeated many times and always for the same reason.
That only strengthened the central argument of my life.
That intelligence directed a right always makes man the master of his fate.
That evening I called my Indian workers together in front of the plantation house.
And I saw their faces go ashen with terror as I told them that the ants were coming.
Then one of the men stepped forward, Blas, the foreman.
Senor, we have worked hard here for these three years, all of us.
We have built the finest plantation in this district. We all share in it.
It has been a home for all of us and our families.
Now the ants come. Yes, now the ants come.
These ditches we dug last year, they were for the ants? They were for the ants.
If we moved our families across the river, the ants could not reach them.
That's right. Your families would be safe.
And you?
The ants are mighty. We know what they can do.
But we think that you are mightier. We will stay and fight against the ants with you.
I knew that the men would give me that answer. I counted on it.
And suddenly I thought of the commissioner and wondered what he would say at such an unquestioning confidence.
Would he still think I was insane? At least I knew he would not soon forget.
The day spent in warning all the plantations in my district, sleep was out of the question for me all that night.
I could think of only one thing, one man, Leningrad.
One man who calmly evaluated his chances against a deadly menace, coolly decided he could win,
and was willing to stake his life on it to risk a horrible death for it.
It was terrifying, and yet it was fascinating.
And when dawn came, I knew that the fascination of that man was more than I could resist.
That line engine's fight was drawing my mind, was drawing me back toward that plantation and death.
And there was nothing I could do about it. I had to go back.
The second act of suspense continues in one minute.
The second act of suspense continues in one minute.
Do you know the Social Security benefits to which you will be entitled when you separate from the service and take a civilian job?
Here's a tip from Social Security.
When you open an account at a store, a special record is usually started for you.
When you get a Social Security account card, a personal record is also started for you,
using both your name and the number of your card.
To be sure your Social Security record is correct, it's a good idea to check your Social Security record every few years.
To get a statement of your earnings from the Social Security records, you can use postcard form 7004.
This form is yours by writing to Social Security, Department 15, Hollywood 28, California.
That's postcard form 7004.
And now we continue with Act Two of Line Engine versus the Ants, starring William Conrad.
A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
It was ten o'clock in the morning when I rounded the bend below Line Engine's plantation.
I put him at the dock and tied up the launch.
And then I saw him standing on the bank above me, arms folded, stubby cigar in his mouth, and a sardonic grin on his face.
Back for another warning, Commissioner?
No.
Back to stay a while, huh?
Yes.
You don't seem very surprised.
I'm not.
You expected me.
I thought you'd be bankin'.
Come along, we'll get some horses.
You'll want to ride around the plantation, take a look at the defenses I've rigged.
Defenses? How have you had time to...
I've always known that sooner or later the Ants would come.
Well, then, yes, I'd like to see the defenses.
And the Ants? We'll be getting a glimpse of them before long, I should think.
Yes, and the Ants.
The defenses Line Engine had devised were quite impressive.
Surrounding three sides of the plantation, like a huge horseshoe, was a ditch 12 feet wide.
The end of this ditch ran into the river, which formed the fourth side of the plantation.
And at the upriver entrance to the ditch, Line Engine had constructed a dam by which river water could be diverted.
A large handwheel controlled the floodgate of the dam.
As we approached the ditch and rode along it, I could see that it was nearly full.
How do you like my first line of defense, Commissioner?
Well, it's reassuring, like a moat around a castle.
Unless the Ants know how to build rafts, they won't reach the plantation.
But this is the only the outer moat. There's a better one than this.
Come along. We'll go up to the high ground where the buildings are. We can get a view from there.
Line Engine.
Aye.
I didn't see any women or children around the plantation, nor any animals.
Yes, that's right. We moved them across the river.
Oh, then even you think that there's danger?
Not because of danger, Commissioner. Matter of efficiency.
Efficiency?
What's done on the efficiency of the men if they're worried about their families?
Critical situations only become crises when oxen and women get excited.
Ah, here we are.
See the ditch?
Well, it's much smaller than the other.
You've noticed how all the buildings are on this piece of high ground.
This inner ditch surrounds them and it's lined with concrete.
Yes, but even filled with water, this is no barrier. It's not big enough.
Why, if the Ants get this far, they'll...
No, Father. This ditch wasn't built for water, Commissioner.
You see the pipes leading into it? See those storage tanks on the hill?
Huh?
Gasoline. They can throw up a wall of flame. You can't have bet they won't like that.
Oh, I dare say they won't.
Look, Commissioner. Over there on the horizon.
Yes, there are your Ants. Look at them.
It was a sight I'll never forget.
Over the range of hills, as far as I could see, crept a darkening hem.
Ever longer and broader until the shadows spread across the entire slope.
And then down it, downward, uncannily swift.
And all the grass and bushes on the entire slope was being mowed by a giant sickle,
leaving only the vast moving shadow extending, deepening, and moving rapidly nearer.
They're a hideous lawn, aren't they?
Oh, line engine, we can't last against that. Look at them.
Why, they could fill your ditches with their corpses and still have enough to destroy every one of us.
We've got to run for it.
No. They haven't gotten to us yet and they never will.
Come along. We'd best get back to the men.
The hostile army was approaching in perfect formation.
No human battalions, however well-drilled, could ever hope to rival the precision of that advance.
Along a front that moved forward as uniformly as a straight line,
the ants grew nearer and nearer to the water ditch.
And as they approached, two outlying wings of the army detached themselves from the main body
and started marching along the sides of the ditch, no doubt expecting at some point to find a crossing.
And during this hour-long flanking movement, the main army remained still.
Across the scant 12 feet of ditch, I stared at them and they seemed to stare back at me.
Act three of suspense follows in one minute.
This is Johnny Baker with Communism on the Spot.
The Communists often talk about the will of the people,
but unfortunately their actions don't match their words.
For example, in January 1918, the Bolsheviks broke up by force of arms the Constituent Assembly,
the first and only parliament in Russian history freely elected by universal suffrage.
The Bolsheviks dispersed this democratic body by military force because they feared the will of the people,
which had given them only 25 percent of the vote and their leading political opponent twice that number.
The Communists have never come to power in a free election anywhere, and they probably never will.
Not the will of the people, but their own will to power is their main concern.
And now we continue with Act Three of Line Engine versus the Ants, starring William Conrad,
a tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.
Around four in the afternoon, the Ants scouts, having found no crossing, there was a stirring among the main army,
and then an immense flood of ants about a hundred yards in width
commenced pouring in a glimmering black cataract down the far slope of the ditch.
Thousands drowned instantly, but the rest began using the bodies as bridges.
Line Engine immediately swung into action.
Tanejo, get to the dam, open the floodgate wider, get the water in the ditch moving faster.
Si, senor.
Look at them, drowned by the thousands.
That's what they keep coming.
All right, men, busy with the shovels now, dump some sand and clods on them.
See how they like that.
You, you with the petrol sprinklers, start pumping.
There, that's it.
They don't like it, commissioner, they don't like it a bit. Look at them.
Yes, but how about the ones on the far side of the ditch?
Whole clumps of them rolling into the water, the rest are using them for bridges.
Yes, now what's keeping Tanejo? He should be at the dam by now.
Senor, the ants are crossing the ditch on the clod of earth.
If you climb up on this side even now.
Yes, I see them, I see them. Use your shovels, other men, plod the crawlers.
What's the matter?
I see them, they crawl up on my shovels, they crawl in my eyes.
Into the petrol, you idiot, douse your paws in the petrol.
Don't stop now, the rest of you, plod them.
We cannot hold them back, we must run.
Run now and you've doomed every one of you. You've got to fight them back.
Use your shovels.
The ants are coming.
You're dead if you stop. Keep at it now. Keep at it.
Ah, Tanejo got the plug gates open, the water's running faster now.
Yes, look at the ants, they can't hold their own against the current now.
They're being washed away.
Faster with the shovels.
Look at them, Commissioner, we've beat them. We've beat them.
It was true, Lineingen had won at least the first round.
The plug gates were left open to forestall any night crossing.
I allowed myself to hope that the ants would go on, would pass us by.
But when the dawn came, the dark blanket was still there, motionless across the ditch.
And then we noticed a feverish activity on the other side of the plantation.
Here a grove of tamarind trees lined the far end of the ditch and every tree swarmed with the crawling insects.
But instead of eating the leaves, they were merely gnawing through the stems so that a thick green shower fell steadily to the ground.
Well, it looks as if it's feeding time for our friends, huh?
Blas.
Yes, sir.
Have all the petrol pumps brought here and get everyone over here except the lookouts on the other side and then pass out the shovels.
Yes, sir.
Are you going to deprive them of a meal?
A meal?
Aren't they cutting down the leaves for food?
Wish they were.
What do you mean?
I said if they wanted to get across, they'd have to have rafts.
And that's just what they've got.
Those leaves are their rafts.
Even as he spoke, the leaves went tumbling down the far bank by the thousands.
The current drew them away from the bank and each leaf carried several ants.
Don't worry.
As long as you keep spraying them and shoveling dirt on their rafts, they can't land now.
But, signore, there will be too many.
It's true. Look.
Morley's in the ditch all the time.
Why, why, they'll have a solid carpet to walk across in a minute.
Not so fast, commissioner.
I've still got to trick up my sleeve for them.
The water.
The ditch is drying up.
Yes, of course it's drying up.
That's the plan.
Those are the orders I sent to the dam.
Are you mad?
As soon as it's empty, what's to prevent the ants?
Look, the water's way down.
It's almost dry.
They'll be able to come across the bottom.
They'll not make it if the man at the dam carries out his orders.
He should have opened the gates again by now.
To flood the ants?
Yes, right.
What a chance to take if anything should happen.
Here, here comes the water.
Now we'll give the crawlers in the ditch a good ride out to the river.
Yes, there they are.
Look at them now.
Lilingen's tactics were successful.
At first, the violent flow of water raced through the ditch, overwhelming leaves and ants and sweeping them along.
Three times the ditch was emptied.
Three times the ants raced across the bottom.
And three times the water arriving just in time carried them away.
But the fourth time, as the water lowered nearly to the bottom of the ditch, we waited in vain for the rushing waters.
And then, senor!
What's the matter?
What's gone wrong at the dam?
The ants.
Just as the man at the dam lowered the water almost to the bottom, the ants attacked the dam.
Before he could open the floodgate, he was almost surrounded.
He ran.
The ants kept coming.
They were across the ditch.
Lilingen stood motionless, absorbing the news of his defeat without a word.
Then he raised his pistol and fired three shots at the end.
The prearranged signal for all the men to retreat instantly to the second line of defense.
The concrete line ditches, two miles from the point of invasion.
Soon after we arrived there, the natives commenced straggling in silently.
Lilingen waited until all of them had gathered, and then he spoke to them.
Well, lads, we've won the first round, lost the second.
But we'll smash the crawlers yet.
Anyone who thinks otherwise can draw his pay and push off.
There are rafts enough on the river and plenty of time still to reach them.
You stay then.
Good.
Thank you, lads.
And you, commissioner?
l...
l can't persuade you to give up the fight?
You cannot.
Well, then l stay too.
Yes, l knew you wouldn't.
Senor, senor, have you and the ants have reached the ditch?
You're trying to get across?
No, senor, not.
l didn't think they would.
There's plenty of food out there for them.
Food l've spent three years in raising.
And it ought to last them until morning anyway.
Yes, we were safe for the moment.
But the next morning the black swarm was solid around us,
and their shock troops were hard at work.
They were dropping shreds of bark and twigs and leaves into the petrol-filled ditches,
forming a floating bridge across the surface of the liquid.
Lineingen stood silently watching this operation,
and l could see a grudging admiration in his face.
Then, after several hours, the attack came.
Down the ditch they poured, thousands of them,
and across the bridge of twigs, rapidly approached the inner side.
Lineingen sat motionless watching them.
Uh-huh.
Lineingen, for the love of God, don't sit there like a statue.
They'll be on us in a moment.
Let them fill it first.
No.
All right, everyone back from the ditch!
Go on!
Floss, hand me the torch.
Now we'll see how our friends like a little heat around them.
Flames from the ditch shot into the air, devouring the ants by the millions.
For there was some time before the petrol burned down to the bed of the ditch,
but when it did, the devils came back for more.
Again Lineingen fired the ditch to destroy them, and still again they came on.
But at each successive firing, the task of the ants drew easier
because of the film of ash which now covered the petrol,
and as they returned to the assault time after time,
a slow, sickening horror crept into my mind.
l looked quickly at Lineingen and then at the gasoline tanks.
He read my gaze and nodded slowly.
That's right, Commissioner.
We'd hold them off forever if our supply of petrol was unlimited, but it isn't.
We've got enough to fill the ditch once more.
And then?
Pickle! Pickle! Come back!
Now the idiot jumped the ditch. He'll never make it to the river.
Pickle! Come back!
Merciful God, he's...
lt's too late.
Blas, keep the men back with your gun.
Don't let anyone else try for the river.
Lineingen, isn't there any way, any way at all?
We've got to do something. We can't...
There must be a way. There must be.
Yes. Yes, yes.
What is it?
We'll flood the whole plantation.
Flood? But how?
We've got to close the floodgate at the dam. That'll do it.
You're mad. The dam is nearly two miles away. Two miles of ants.
Blas, listen to me!
Listen, Blas! l'm proud of you.
Now there's still a chance by shutting the floodgates in the dam
and flooding the whole plantation from the river.
The moment l'm over the ditch, set fire to it,
that'll allow time for the flood to wash away the ants.
And then all you have to do is wait for me.
Why, that's impossible. You can't get to the dam, let alone get back.
That's where you're wrong, Commissioner.
l'll get there and l'll get back.
Take care of things while l'm gone, huh?
l watched him as he calmly pulled on high leather boots,
drew gauntlets over his hands and stuffed the spaces
between britches and boots, gauntlets and arms
with petrol-soaked rags.
He shielded his eyes with close-fitting mosquito goggles
and plugged his nostrils and ears with cotton.
Then the natives drenched his clothes with petrol.
Line-engine was ready, and as he stood calmly...
l stood another ditch ready for the run.
l realized that this was as it should be.
l, Line-engine, would meet the ants and defeat them
or be defeated by them.
Line-engine versus the ants.
l ran. l ran in long equal strides
with one thought, one sensation, my being. l must get through.
l dodged all trees and shrubs, except for the split seconds
my souls touched the ground.
The ants would have no opportunity to alight on me.
l ran on. l was halfway to the dam
before l felled ants onto my clothes and a few on my face.
l struck at them mechanically, scarcely conscious of their bites.
The dam drew toward me slowly.
The distance drew less and less, finally only 100 yards away.
And 50. And then l was there.
l gripped the ant-covered wheel,
but, oddly, l seized it when a horde of ants
floated over my hands and arms.
l strained and slowly the wheel turned and turned more.
The floodgate was swinging slowly, shot, and then it was shot.
And the water was rising, rising behind the breakwater,
closer to the top, but closer.
And then it was spilling over.
The flitting of the plantation had begun,
and l let go of the wheel.
For the first time, l realized that l was coated
from head to foot with the fiends.
They stabbed at me and bit through my flesh.
And l almost fainted with the pain as l ran,
knocking ants from my body, brushing them from my bloody face.
And then one bit me just below the rim of my goggles,
and l managed to tear it away.
But the agony of the bite and its venom
drilled into the eye nerves,
and l saw now through circles of fire into a milky mist.
l was almost blinded, but l knew that if l tripped and fell,
l ran on, my heart pounding as if it would burst,
blood roaring in my ears,
a giant's fist battering my lungs.
Then l could see dimly that wall of flame at the ditch,
but it was too far away.
l could not last half that distance.
And l stumbled, then l fell.
And l felt myself being swarmed over, devoured,
and l tried to rise in great weight,
and then l remembered six minutes and nothing but bones.
l couldn't let that happen to me. l couldn't die like that.
To my feet, to my feet.
Drag myself forward toward the flame,
the ditch, ring of flame.
Closer now.
Only a little further.
Ten steps.
lt seemed we had waited for hours.
When all at once through the blazing ring around us,
an apparition hurtled and fell full length on the ground.
Line engine, alive with ants, unconscious,
with blazing eyes and lacerated face,
we rushed to him, stripped off his clothes,
and tore at the ants that covered him.
His body seemed almost one open wound.
In one place l could see a white bone.
Later, as the curtain of flame lowered,
l looked out where that blanket of ants had been
and saw only a vast expanse of water
covering the entire plantation.
The ants were gone, drowned.
Line engine had won.
He lay on his bed.
His body swayed from head to foot with bandages.
But Line engine was still alive.
Commissioner, everything in order?
They're gone. The ants are gone.
l told you l'd come back.
Even if l am a bit streamlined.
And then this amazing man grinned,
shut his eyes, and quietly fell asleep.
Suspense.
In which William Conrad starred in William N. Robeson's production
of Line Engine vs. the Ants,
adapted by Robert Reif from the original story by Carl Stephenson.
Listen. Listen again next week when we return with
Man from Tomorrow starring Frank Lovejoy,
another tale well calculated to keep you in...
Suspense.
Supporting Mr. Conrad in Line Engine vs. the Ants were Ben Wright,
Lou Merrill, Donald Bucca, and Don Diamond.
Suspense.
Suspense has been brought to you through the worldwide facilities
of the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service.
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