2/18/44 Italy #78
Vesuvius Airfield
Angel:
Am I pissed off? I spent three days cleaning up the cockpit of an airplane to the point where there weren’t any loose wires etc. in it, and they sent the damn thing on a cross-country the day I was going to get everybody together on it to show them how to fix the rest of them. Well, it has been bad for a year or so and I don’t suppose a couple of days will make much difference.
I flew an administrative flight yesterday, and it was a lot of fun. I couldn’t get between the mountains and the clouds, so I went up on top. There was a poor little A-20 driver, lost, who tacked onto my wing and followed me through my landing and my let-down. He’s damn lucky I popped along.
We had a G.I. show a couple of nights ago and it was a honey. The Group did the whole job itself. Some of the humor was rare. For example:
- Why would you rather have a paper dolly than a real live gal?
- Because I can tear off a piece anytime I want to.
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- What are twins?
- Twins are room-mates who later become bosom buddies.
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The Colonel’s wife was inspecting the kitchens of the Post and was watching the cook make hamburgers. He would grab a handful of ground meat and flatten it by slapping it against his bare chest. After a few minutes, the gal said, “I say young man, isn’t that awfully unsanitary?” Without batting an eye the cook replied, “Could be ma’am, but you should see me make doughnuts.”
Well, that and the orchestra, went on for an hour and a half. The funniest part was that our stupid Group adj., who is quite a Don Juan, brought a date to the show, a civilian girl who was educated in England. Boy, the razzing that Clarence got was unmerciful.
Now that I am out of a squadron, I can make some comments. A proper Captain or a fair Major can command a squadron with no trouble. The job requires a lazy man. And I might add that during the seven months, I was never late to or missed breakfast, and never had a hangover. Of course, the outfit didn’t appreciate that at the time, but they do now. You may have a Captain Moffat or a Flight Officer Johnston contact you one of these days. They are swell people, and did a wonderful job of flying for me.
My professional future looks bright at this point. Promotion is almost inevitable and a slight decoration may also pop loose. Then my job will be to loaf and observe for a year or so. But my personal future looks like hell as God only knows when I will get home. I’m not homesick, but I surely do want and need you.
Will you send me one of those big magazines with all the latest styles of women’s clothes. Vulcanos want it as everything they have in shop is pre-war Paris style.
I love you, baby. Cy