3/15/44 Italy #So what
Hello Toughy:
You’ll never guess who I just talked to? P.D. Register no less. He is in a B-25 Group with Butch “Ho-ho” Hunter, with “Cheese” Olmstead as Grp. CO. I’m afraid I shall try to transfer in although I don’t know what luck I’ll have. If I’ve got to stay in this hole ‘til the war is over, I might as well stay with people I know and like. I’m tired of being a stranger. In fact, although I don’t expect to be able to reach him, I’m trying to contact the OM now to see how he reacts. The hell of it is nobody wants as much rank transferred in as I have.
Damn—the OM says he will give me leave (10 days) and is enthusiastic about the transfer, claims they need people badly. Maybe this is the break I’ve been waiting for. Everything is all set, airplane to fly down there in etc. I just hope something comes of it as I am damn sick and tired of sitting. Honey, I’m either coming home where I can get a job or I’m going to get a job over here. The only job I want is hugging you. Don’t humor me in my feeling that I’ve gotten the short end of the spoon again, for that is true but it is not good for me to think about same.
Please write to Thomas Patrick and tell him to kick hell out of Wright Field. Every time those idiots make a decision we get another mechanical abortion.
Hey! Did you hear what happened at Sinatra’s birth? They threw away the baby & used the afterbirth.
Tomorrow night I shall probably have found out “non e possible” to transfer, and that will be about the last straw.
Although I had no hope of getting home the first year, I am beginning to count months in the second year. Actually, time has flown rather rapidly. Someday, damn it, I shall become fatigued honestly and they’ll send me home. The trouble is I concentrate on not getting tired instead of vice versa. Right now I should like to concentrate on necking with you. After the long layoff, I shall have all the finesse and technique of a high school freshman. But there will be nothing lacking in interest or effort.
There’s an interesting article on Ascension* in the 44 January Digest, which is most amazing. When I was there, the ‘transient hotel’ consisted of 6 unfloored pyramidal tents. “Showers” were taken out of a tin hat with a ration of ½ gallon/day (cold). The Officer’s mess was a rough shack—without pretty table cloths. Food—yep—C rations and nothing else. There hadn’t been a supply boat in 5 months. The “Green Hill” referred to is beautiful. But the author didn’t take time to explore it. The green part is always in a cloud. Hignett and Brown took me to the home of some British wireless people, who fed me Scotch & splash and fresh cookies, while sitting on a cool porch overlooking a beautiful flower garden.
Ernie Pyle has been writing some good dope on the 47th. Actually most of it was gathered in my squadron. I hope his “Fight Pay” for doughboys goes through.
That’s all for now, Angel. I love, oh so much. Cy.
- This was undoubtedly one of the stops Cy made when he was ferrying “Marty 1” from the U.S. to North Africa. See: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/RAF_Ascension_Island
- See also:http://www.davidfmitchell.com/uploads/4/3/4/0/43400967/ascension_island_and_the_second_world_war_.pdf
3/15/44 Italy #87
Hi Toots:
Got two letters today.
It makes me so god damn mad when I hear of all my classmates who are home and rank me. Honey, except for Tom and Ruegg and the very close ones, just don’t mention it. Hal is a good boy, but no colonel. I hope Spook makes it out ok.
The field glasses you “bought” me for my birthday were a good investment. A Navy officer, Lt. Lee Malone, on duty here, says that they would bring $150 in the States. They cost “you” less than half that much.
Don’t worry about not being in service. I wouldn’t want you here. One reason I am fighting is that my womenfolk won’t have to. The situation is not that desperate. You do what you can to keep me happy and that will be enough contribution for you.
I shall await the colored pictures with pleasant anticipation. I shall use “Hula Girl Beverly” as my pin up girl for that week.
My retailored wools are back. It sure does feel good to wear clothes that fit. With them came a letter from Vulcanos, which I can’t read.
That’s all for now. Don’t worry. I’m well, safe, in a safe job, and except for moments of childish depression over no job and no promotion, moderately happy.
Love Cy.