Tag: Bob Paul

1944 March 8 Listening to Axis Sally

3/8/44 Italy

Hi Angel:

What a life.  Your little boy is very lucky.  Last night, while coming home from dinner on board with Howard Cadigan (RN* friend of mine), my driver went to sleep.  Fortunately, I had him driving on 20 mph as I always do at night.  Aside from a few minor bruises and 1 scratch each, no damage was done, that is to us.  The jeep is a wash-out.  There was an American outfit a mile down the road, and their doc gave me a complete check-up, and could find nothing.  I saw Vulcanos for 10 minutes today, and they were most solicitous.  They made me promise I wouldn’t tell you for fear you would worry!  Well, we can both laugh at it now, as I have a bruise on each cheek, and I don’t mean of my face.

You should hear Howard tell jokes from the deep South!  His negro accent isn’t bad.  He’s a bit Irish and has a keen sense of humor.

The enclosure is a nice piece of eyewash.  It is an extract from the order which awards it to me.  I only hope the last sentence has been true for that is my aim.  That’s the flight for which I received the “wing & a prayer” write-up in the news.  I also have my second Air Medal Cluster—so what.

I had another long talk with Bob Paul yesterday.  He will not take a stand but I feel that he wants me to quit trying to accomplish anything before I get hurt.  I can’t agree with him even if he sincerely has my well-being at heart.  For the time being, I shall sit and wait.  I’m on OS and shall attempt to stay here until my promotion either bounces or comes through.  After that, I shall ask for a bathe of leave and then see what cooks.  I’m getting a nice rest and am about ready to start all over.

We’re listening to “Axis Sally.”**  She’s a hell of a good announcer and plays only the best—the best jive.  The propaganda she puts out is good but not good enough to fool anybody.  Back in Africa the men were so pleased to hear an “American” voice (female) that what she said didn’t enter into it.

Damn it, listening to good dance music makes me so damn homesick for my little ol’ wife.  It sure would be nice to have a handful of Little Martha, all decked up in an evening gown, with a flower in her hair, with a good floor and good music.

I just called Burt and told him about the wreck so he wouldn’t worry if he heard any wild stories.  He looks after me like a Mother, in a not obnoxious way.  He’s excellent.

I’m asking Mom Huntoon to send me a subscription to GE News for a year and send you the bill.  Don’t let her forget it.

And don’t forget I just love hell out of you, Snooks, no matter whether I accomplish anything here or not.    Your Cy.

*Royal Navy

** See: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rita_Zucca;

3/8/44 Italy V-Mail #86

Hi Gremlin:

Just got a letter from John.  He figures maybe he will get sea duty one of these days.  That might be an interesting baby to raise the last half of the year.

Why don’t you let Beverly eat shells?  You’re mean!  They’re probably good for her, calcium etc.  Snails are good too.

I’m looking forward to the color pictures.  They are so much more life-like than the black & white.

The jungle cruises sound interesting.  You should also take a bus over the Tamiami trail—maybe see George & Katherine, as well as on down to Key West.  Something you’ll love, and do it, is go to Pan-American’s Miami Terminal & see the big flying boats come in.

Pan American Miami Terminal

We listened to radio Budapest tonight.  I hope we can cover all this country someday.  I’ve learned that only real lesson in enjoying travel—enjoy trying to speak the language and don’t be embarrassed.  A foreigner will treat you wonderfully if you try to understand him and his country.

I’m going to ask Dad to get me some ribbons soon.  Write to him and tell him where to get them made up.  The last ones were well done.

All my love, Cy.

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1944 April 28 Getting spoiled

4/28/44 Italy

Hi Honey:

I am getting spoiled to the point where I shall be completely useless for any further tactical work.  I have had ice-cream for lunch every day since I got here, and cream puffs or some other delicacy for dessert for the evening meal.  Last night I saw a show which, although corny, was amusing.  It was, I think, Broadway Melody [sic “Broadway Rhythm”], starring Chas. Winniger, Ginny Simms, and a bunch of other people.  There was no plot, but there were a few good vaudeville acts in the damn thing.

Every day since I arrived I have run into someone whom I have known before or who knows everyone I know.  Yesterday afternoon I met a Lt. Lucky, who lived right across the street from me when I lived on Montclair Avenue.  He is 20 and a B-17 driver.  This morning we had a visiting fireman from Washington whom I met while on maneuvers in La.  He remembered me for some unknown reason.  Then I had a captain come in who came to me in S’vah as a brand new shavetail along with Casey and that bunch.

Bob Paul’s bunch is pretty well cleaned out now.  Chocolate is home, Ed is doing a little walking these days instead of flying, Jack Stern, Barret, and some other people have been kicked out cold, as has Chuck.  I don’t know what is in the breeze, but it looks like dirty work at the cross-roads.  I am most fortunate in having seen the hand-writing on the wall and left of my own free will when I did.  It may not mean a thing in the things which the army thinks of, but it is giving me a swell chance to learn a lot of things I’ve forgotten about the little ol’ electron.  There is a vacancy, etc., but I have found that working with the right people makes promotion etc.  relatively un-important.

That’s the news-cast for today.  I’ll try to use the mill when I write.  Take care of you for me.  How about making that pic I asked for a full portrait size (8×10) for my desk?

Love Cy

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1944 May 12 “Well, it’s a small world”

 

5/11/44:  The Americans and British begin their fourth major assault on Monte Cassino.

5/12/44 Italy V-Mail

Hi Snooks:

I shall try to fill this one up single spaced.  When I write every day, like I have been, there isn’t too much to say.  Today I got five letters from you, which sure did help.  I haven’t had one from you for some time.  The change in address is finally clicking and I should have no more delays.

I shall answer your letters in order.  Burt will get his letter, although I don’t think I owe him one.  Maybe he figures 1 visit is worth the ten letters he owes me.  Well, I guess that is right.  Alice and Eddie sound interesting.  I shall enjoy meeting them.  The gifts for the Gozland’s sound swell.  It may have been $50, but it would have cost me $200 for my leave.  Honey, when people are rationed the way the people in Africa are, and yet take you in and feed four off of a ration of three, money or gifts can’t repay it.  On top of that, their hospitality is a thing of record proportions.  I am sure that the gifts will be loved, for even if I only sent them a couple of handkerchiefs, they would enjoy it.  But the value of things from the states over here is past all comprehension.  The same things would cost anywhere from $300 to $1000 here!  Thanks for taking such pains.  Someday you’ll meet them, and see what I mean.

So you like the brooch and bracelet!  Honey, I don’t particularly like cameos, but those appealed to me and are supposed to be pretty good.  The whole business was made from materials which I assembled and furnished, and was not “store bought.”  The black dress sounds purty.  Personally, I prefer dark purple slips—or do you remember?  The coral necklace (have you gotten the bracelet to match it yet?) should be along with an unmounted cameo I sent about the same time & should also go well with the black dress. Boy, would I like to have you in that outfit to parade around the officers club tonight.

What the hell did Nena do now?  Or is it too long to write?

Say, I got a letter from Betty Hitchcock today and she is home on leave.  Why not call her up some night, as you will certainly enjoy her.  Address is:

E.F. Hitchock, 8368 Waterman Ave., St. Louis, Mo.

Also got one from Helen Paetz Phillips.  That’s another little gal that you would really get along with.  On account of you, she still remains the only girl I ever dated and couldn’t kiss.  She had just gotten a letter from you when she wrote.

I’ll bet you can’t guess who I saw yesterday?  Andy Anderson, my instructor at Brooks.  Gosh, it was good, he hasn’t changed a bit, and I as most flattered to find that he had spent a good deal of time trying to locate me over here.  Things are tough all over.  He is a Major, and was a 1st Lt. when I first met him!  Actually, I was glad I was only a Major, for I wouldn’t have felt at all comfortable any other way.  He remembered the whole flight (stroud, sorensone, starbuck, and stacher) and remarked that he never had a screwier bunch of students in his whole career.  Well, it’s a small world.  And I did fill the page.

Honey, you just about the sweetest little thing I can think of, and one of these bright years I’m going to get sent home for good.  Bob Paul sends regards.

All my love, Cy.

 

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