12/7/43 Mission:
TACTICAL OPERATIONS (Twelfth Air Force): In Italy, B-25's and A-36's bomb the harbor and town of Civitavecchia; B-25's also attack Pescara, hitting the railroad, road, and town area; A-36's, P-40's, and RAF DAF fighters hit a gun position W of Orsogna, the towns of Viticuso and San Vittoria, and a bridge at Civitella Roveto.
12/8/43 Mission:
TACTICAL OPERATIONS (Twelfth Air Force): In Italy, B-25's bomb bridges, industrial targets, marshalling yard, and town areas of Pescara, Ancona, and Aquila; A-20's hit gun emplacements and bivouac area near Sant' Elia Fiumerapido; other A-20's, operating with RAF and SAAF aircraft attack troop concentration and gun positions near Miplinnico; fighter-bombers of the AAF, RAF, RAAF, and SAAF bomb targets in support of ground troops near Orsogna; A-36's and P-40's hit communications targets (roads, railroads, bridges) at Avezzano, Frosinone, Viticuso, Gaeta, and Sant' Elia Fiumerapido.
12/8/43: Jim Morrison was born. From Wikipedia: “James Douglas “Jim” Morrison (December 8, 1943 – July 3, 1971) was an American singer, songwriter, and poet, best remembered as the lead singer of the Doors.[1] Due to his lyrics, wild personality, performances, and the dramatic circumstances surrounding his life and death, Morrison is regarded by critics and fans as one of the most iconic and influential frontmen in rock music history.
Morrison co-founded the Doors in the summer of 1965 in Venice, California. The band spent two years in obscurity until shooting to prominence with the #1 single in the USA, “Light My Fire“, taken from their first album. Morrison recorded a total of six studio albums with the Doors, all of which sold well and received critical acclaim. Though the Doors recorded two more albums after his death, the loss of Morrison was crippling to the band, and they disbanded in 1973. In 1993, Morrison, as a member of the Doors, was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
In the later part of the 20th century, his fame endured as one of the popular culture’s most rebellious and oft-displayed icons, representing the generation gap and youth counterculture.[2] He was also well known for improvising spoken word poetry passages while the band played live. Morrison was ranked number 47 on Rolling Stone‘s list of the “100 Greatest Singers of All Time”,[3] and number 22 on Classic Rock magazine’s “50 Greatest Singers In Rock”.[4] Ray Manzarek, who co-founded The Doors with him, said Morrison “embodied hippie counterculture rebellion”.[5] Morrison was sometimes referred to by other nicknames, such as “Lizard King”, “Mr. Mojo Risin” and “King of Orgasmic Rock”.[6]
Morrison developed an alcohol dependency during the 1960s,[7][8] which at times affected his performances on stage.[9] He died at the age of 27 in Paris. As no autopsy was performed, the exact cause of Morrison’s death is not known.[10] Morrison is interred at Père Lachaise Cemetery in eastern Paris.[11]”
12/8/43 Italy
Hi Snooks:
I wonder how long this old stuff will continue? I’ve finally gotten to be a good army officer. When I get an idea I can’t try in my own command, I just shelve it. I’ve finally learned that it doesn’t pay to try to sell ideas. I submitted a damn good bomb-sight back in Sicily, and it has never gone past group. I made some damn fine calculations on evasive action, and after about one minute of conversation found that no one could understand the results, much less the derivation. So, I don’t even know where they are now. I use the results for myself and that is enough. As Daddy would say, “comparisons are odious.”* And initiative down under always results in comparisons. I hope I don’t appear to have the same constipated attitude towards my underlings.
Honey, life without Marty is absolutely impossible. I’ve coasted about the limit on what I can remember about your stabilizing influence. From now on, I shall devote a respectable amount of thought to rectifying this situation.
Current talk centers on who will be the Army of occupation. Perhaps a better subject would be how to win the war. These damn swivel chair strategists get in my hair.
Honey, don’t expect me to be nice, or even courteous, when I get home. The people who are working and who have actually been shot at will be loved without limit. But the ones who have ducked every combat detail will be on the list, regardless of name, rank, or color. I think a hell of lot less of them than I do of some of the kids who get here and then break before their first mission.
After the war, I don’t ever want to handle a bunch of high-sitting aircrews. When a man starts worrying (actually, there is no real worry), he can’t be flown. If you throw the book at him, all the money spent in training is wasted. So you have to pat him on the back and say, “I understand,” and send him back to fly transports or some other generally safe job. In a few cases, the brakes is out of the control of the individual. In others, it is plain yellow and failure of the individual to make an honest effort to do the job.
Well, I’m boring you. I love you so very much, darling.
Your Cy
*From: http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/Comparisons-are-odious.html
“The earliest recorded use of this phrase appears to be by John Lydgate in his Debate between the horse, goose, and sheep, circa 1440: “Odyous of olde been comparisonis, And of comparisonis engendyrd is haterede.”
In Much Ado About Nothing, Shakespeare gave Dogberry the line ‘comparisons are odorous’. It seems that he was using this ironically, knowing it to be a misuse of what would have been a well known phrase by 1599 when the play was written.”
12/8/43 V-Mail, Italy
[Hospital ward; letter of 5/10/44 indicates he was in Naples, which had been controlled by the Allies since early October, 1943.]
Hi Toots:
What a life. I’m writing this nearly upside down, so anything could happen. I’m laying on my back, writing on a checkerboard. If you ever get pregnant I feel sorry for you. They say I have all the symptoms with jaundice and it is not fun. I lay here for five hours yesterday, afraid to move off of my back for fear I would lose my cookies. I finally won about midnight and dozed off for a couple of hours. Then I had to get up a couple of times. Oh, me.
Everybody has gone out walking this P.M. but a couple of us. We have ten in the ward, one whole wall of which is windowed. It is pleasant. We have shows and things which I don’t attend as they are very corny. But it’s nice to have them available.
Some of my kids in another ward told the nurses I was an awful wolf and to be on guard. Sis, if you don’t think I’ve been taking a complete razzing, you’re crazy. I told them I used to be a wolf, but since 1938 I got tired and have been a gentleman ever since. They’re a good bunch of kids and help a lot. Major Haskins, apparently [?] and while a doctor is also fine.
I wish the pictures would get here. It was probably in one of the boats Jerry sank over at Bari. Also, Louis’ slide rule.
Well, Honey, as the Eyeties would say, “niente molto.” I love you very much.
Your Cy.
12/8/43
The Wedgewood Hotel, Chicago, IL
From Robert Stedman
Dear Mrs. Stafford:
I don’t know how to start this letter but, I just thought I’d write and let you know that your husband is in the very best of health…. He looks very good and is a swell Commanding Officer. Also, (and from one who knows), a fine pilot….
There’s an awful lot I can tell you but I’m sure I couldn’t write it all tonight…
There’s a good way though…if you will write and ask me any questions you care to. I would appreciate answering them very much…. Ask all, and any little thing you want to….
Sorry I couldn’t get out to see you personally:
Respectfully yours,
S/Sgt. Robert C. Stedman.
