Archive for November, 1944

Seven Beers With the Wrong Woman

Tuesday, November 14th, 1944

It is now a few minutes past six, and I am already back at the office, ready to do a hurry-up job on this note. Later on tonight I will stroll down to the Red Cross Club for a toasted cheese sandwich and cup of coffee, then maybe I’ll come read two or three articles in the latest Reader’s Digest, and finally, to the show, the second one, which starts at 9 o’clock. And that will be another day behind me.

Let me give you the “atmosphere” here this evening, some “local color”, so to speak. I got off work at 5:30 as usual, and rushed straight for the mess hall to eat supper, as usual, for it is only recently that we have been given soup. When I got back to the barrack, I changed clothes, putting on my “fatigue suit”, which is a fancy name for the green overalls we wear when off duty. Now I’m here in the office, pounding on this typewriter. If I leave out some words and sentences here and there, you’ll know it’s because the radio is on, and I’m trying to listen to it and write this at the same time. The American armed forces have their own radio network over here, called the American Forces Network. At this moment I am listening to the GI Supper Club, a program of recordings which the boys have written in and asked for. Something like the Coffee Pot Parade that was broadcast over Station KWSC at Pullman. We always used to listen to it while eating breakfast at S. 909 Meadow. It seems to me like that was about 10 years ago. The radio has just finished playing “Seven Beers With the Wrong Woman”. Wonder if my Uncle Ralph requested them to play that. He used to be so crazy about that when he was my age.

As I came over here a few minutes ago, the wind was blowing like sixty. And since I have started on this post, it has begun and stopped raining a couple of times! The blackout curtains are pulled, but I can hear the rain coming down on the steel roof and hitting against the windows. It is almost dark when I go to work at 8:30 in the morning now, and it’s dark outside already tonight. Winter is upon us. Late next spring the sun will be coming up again at 5:30 and setting at 10:00 that evening, but I doubt that I will be here to see it.

Since going into the Army, I have become very much aware of the day-by-day weather and also the seasons. All soldiers, but especially those in the field, are interested in the weather. And it is never good weather, for the boys who are living in the “great out-of-doors”. If it isn’t too hot, it’s too cold, or too wet, or too dry, or too dusty, or too windy, or too muddy, or something. Those things are important to the man who is living in a foxhole.

As far as the seasons are concerned, Ireland has them, and it hasn’t. Depends on how you look at it. The ground is as green as ever, greener in some places. Most of the year’s crops are in now, eliminating many of the light tan and brown fields that I looked down upon from the air with so much interest while I was flying to England last month. The brisk wind that has been blowing lately has cleaned lots of the trees of their leaves. And even if it doesn’t look like our winter landscapes in Washington, one does know that it is winter, just as much as if there was snow on the ground and icicles were hanging from the roofs.

A post of this type may not do wonders for your morale; nevertheless, it does me good to write one a couple of times each year. Nostalgia, you know.

[letterstohome copyright 2008]

A Fellow’s Got To Be Sociable

Thursday, November 2nd, 1944

I’ve never seen it fail.  Whenever I’m most eager to let you know what the latest developments are, I’m usually too busy to post immediately.  That’s the way it has been this week.  One night I went to the “Press Club”, another night I had to go to a party, before last I worked, etc.

On Sunday I was expecting to be transferred.  I “expected” right!  So-o-o-o, I am now assigned to a different squadron.  The second line of my address has changed.  Instead of being in “Hq & Hq Sq, 403rd Base Air Depot”, I am in “Station Complement Squadron, Base Air Depot #3”. 

Well, so far, my transfer to another unit hasn’t brought about much change of any kind.  Yet!  I am occupying the same bunk in the same barrack at the same site at the same base as I have for months past.  And I am working at the same office as always.  Although that is true today, I wouldn’t swear it will be the truth tomorrow.  I have heard rumors .  .  .  .

That party I went to was a farewell celebration for the Captain.  In case I haven’t mentioned this before, Captain B_______ has been my boss since about the first year.

Next to me, the Captain has been with the department longer than anyone still with us.  However, during the most of that time, he was actually located at our other office, and my immediate boss (when I had one) was generally his assistant statistical control officer.  During the year there were two of them, both 1st lieutenants.  I worked with the Captain before the other office was set up, and have been working with him since his crew moved in with us.  He was a swell guy to have for a boss, and I hated to see him leave us.  Our new “chief” is a man from our office—he is a good Joe, too.

The Captain gave this party himself, and it must have set him back a good many pounds.  For our group of about 15, he secured a private dining room at the Carlton, which is one of Belfast’s best restaurants.  In addition to the fellows in the office, the group included the two girls in our office, the Captain’s girl, and a girl who is married to one of our boys, and a girl who is engaged to one of our boys.  These Irish girls are going to town!  We had a chicken-and-turkey dinner, with all the trimmings.  The toasts to the Captain and the bridegroom-to-be (who is our new boss) disposed of a bottle of rye and a bottle of scotch.  A fellow’s got to be sociable, you know.

Early the afternoon of the dinner, we enlisted men kicked in with some money to get the Captain a going-away present, and sent one our men into Belfast so he could buy something before the stores closed.  He is a comical guy anyway, and when he showed up at the dinner half-crocked, he kept us in stitches for the better part of an hour and a half.  Will tell you more about this tomorrow.

[letterstohome copyright 2008]