He's coming! He's coming! Conrad Byrd is coming! Hey Conrad, how about answering a couple of questions? Like, how do you feel about having to go into the army? How does he feel? You ask how he feels? He's much too shy to tell you, so I'll tell you how he feels. He feels, he feels, brave and eager, strangely humble, proud to be a plain GI. He will gladly face those bullets, for he's not afraid to die. For he's a guy that's ready, ready to die, ready to die, ready to die, ready to die. That's why he volunteered. Volunteered? I thought he was drafted. And he appealed three times. Sing. We love you Conrad, oh yes we do. We love you Conrad, and we'll be true. When you're not near us, we're through. Oh Conrad, we love you. What's the pitch on that Hollywood starlet, Conrad? Are you two engaged? Is he engaged? Is Conrad engaged? There's absolutely nothing to the rumor he's engaged. She's a real pal, like a sister, but it doesn't mean a thing. And that 18-carat diamond, it was just a friendship ring. For he's a guy that's ready, ready to die, ready to die, ready to die, ready to die. And why was her husband so mad? Sing. We love you Conrad, oh yes we do. We love you Conrad, and we'll be true. I'll never forget the first time Conrad found out he'd been inducted into the armed forces. Mr. Peterson, he cried eagerly, do you think I can get assigned to the front line trenches? And in that way I can get me one of those dirty Jerrys. Albert. Or whoever's dirty this time. Hey Mr. Peterson, give us the real scoop. Is Conrad still drinking a lot? Now listen here, this gossip must stop. He goes to church each Sunday and he doesn't touch a drop. He's as decent as a minister, he's as sober as a judge. He subscribes to every charity, and his hobby's making fudge. For he's a quiet, nagging, patriotic, healthy, noble American boy. Is it true that you found Conrad in a reformed school? That is a lie, a lie through and through. I'll tell you where he came from, here's the story and it's true. He was born in Indochina. He was born in old Virginia. Son of missionaries there. On a thousand acre farm. Very poor and very hungry. From a line of wealthy platters. From a crew of lives to bear. Full of gentile southern charm. Soon he drifted down the long pond. And the evening by the river. To a waterfront saloon. In the moonlight he would croon. That is where I heard him singing. That's where Conrad started singing. Underneath that old plantation moon. Oh beautiful for spacious skies. For amber waves of grain. America! America! God send his praise. America! America! God send his praise.