And they never did. I love this guy: bow-tied stiff-hat moxie, with a fist for the Axis. He’ll be shifting for Victory, friend, and you can count on him to deliver the goods.
Not that there will be a lot of goods in the next few years, but you’ll get what you need.
If you’re my age, this was the sort of thing your parents saw when they were young, and you can’t help but think it established a baseline for the rest of their lives: America is a place where the trucks get through. It’s also a place that needed reassurance, at one time, that the trucks would continue to roll, and the roads into town wouldn’t be cratered by Jerry munitions.