Tag: George Stafford

1942 April 4 “At sea”

Editor’s note:  Glenn Miller had another number 1 chart-topper with Moonlight Cocktail in the spring of 1942: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MPF38fYkBjc

 

4/4/42
At sea
From: Emma Stafford
Dear Mother, Dad, Marty and Cy—
We continue to have splendid weather and I shall mail this on dry land. The voyage has been long but everything possible has been done to make the trip as pleasant as possible.
The day spent going through the canal was best of all. The grass was so green and the chatter of the birds most refreshing after a week or so on the sea. The jungle was right in sight and gave me something of the feeling I had when going through the Everglades of Florida or swamps of Louisiana.
Our day off an [censored] was interesting. The spray against a nearby coral reef was beautiful. The natives came out in strange boats, (very narrow like a canoe with a piece off to one side to balance it), to sell their wares—Shell Beads, pieces of coral, small boat models, coconuts, tropical fruits and a few articles made of palm leaves that looked to me like grass baskets, purses, etc. I purchased a belt made of coconut shells. The disks are engraved and strung together on braided grass. Someday it will be lovely on a linen dress (that is if I keep my waist in line as it is).
The ship we are on was once a lovely liner and we still enjoy the bit of beauty left in the dining room. It is in blue and panels of mirrors with indirect lighting. A band from the troops has been most faithful about playing each evening at dinner. The meals are good and well prepared. We surely appreciate the effort it must have taken to plan and load a food supply for so many for over a month with only one stop for any supplies at all.
For three weeks I slept in an upper bunk on the veranda. The one nurse offered me a week of sleeping in her bed in the Stateroom. It was the kindest thing I have had done for me in years. Tonight I go back to the bunk and am glad to, for she deserves a good bed for two or three more times before we get to land. We do not know what [censored] debarkation. I do hope Cy has sent me some address for Tom*. There is a chance that I shall run across him. Also, before too long I probably shall be near George Jr.** and Bill is more than likely headed this way.

*Tom Gerrity.

**This is a reference to George Stafford, Jr., Emma’s cousin, son of her father’s brother George Stafford, Sr.

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1944 January 31 Spent an evening with Ernie Pyle

 

1/30/44 Mission:

TACTICAL OPERATIONS (Twelfth Air Force):
   In Italy, B-25's hit road junctions at Valmontone and Genzano di Roma, and bomb the town of Monte Compatri; weather cancels all B-26 operations and several B-25 missions. A-20's hit the town of and road junction near Cori, and XII Air Support Command fighter-bombers hit Sora; US and RAF fighters hit barges and fishing boats off Zara and Trojica, Yugoslavia; fighters on patrol over Anzio meet no air opposition.

1/31/44 Mission:

TACTICAL OPERATIONS (Twelfth Air Force):
   In Italy, A-20's bomb Artena and road junction N of town; P-40's and A-36's, operating E of the Anzio battle area, hit a road junction at Sezze, the town of Fondi, and junction and town area at Priverno; P-47's bomb San Benedetto de Marsi; the XII Air Support Command flies 250+ sorties over the Anzio beachhead; air opposition is absent.

1/31/44:

1/31/44 Italy

Snooks:

You’re in luck today.  This is my second letter to you.  Of course, I hit the jack pot myself, having just gotten two more of your letters.

You kids sound like you’re having a hell of a good time.  I’m all in favor of it.  OK, take the dough for the rent and forget it.  But it isn’t a birthday present.  The coral necklace is the present.  I hope you like it.  Sorry I can’t be there to present it in person.

Sure am glad you liked the skirt.  One of my gunners showed up for a mission one morning with a pair of genuine scotch plaid pants on, and I naturally couldn’t let him wear them around the place.  So I had the first Sgt get him back in a more respectable outfit.  The more I thought, the more I realized how nice your little–oh, oh—scuse please—how nice you would look in a skirt or battle jacket made of the material.  So I had one of the soldiers buy them from him, so he wouldn’t know I was going to get them (otherwise he might have felt forced to sell them) and got the skirt made up.  The tam, frankly fell off a soldier’s head and lit in the road.  Burt and I knew someone had lost a hat because we could see them looking for it when we drove away.  I was really Burt’s gift, so I shall tell him you like it.  That, young lady, is even more Irish than that little nose of yours.  I shall await the pictures, hoping that the yellow sweater is as tight as the one you once wore to Pudooo U–.  I was kinda confused on the shape of the skirt too, until I asked and found that they generally open in the back over here.  That is the closest I’ve come to a skirt opening, thank you—just ask the tailor’s wife.

Thomas is the blonde armament officer who was a classmate of Ed Main’s.  Yep, Ed mentions the family often, and has a picture of them, both being rather cute.  Ernie Pyle* took quite a liking to Ed, and I rather expected the article.  I shall enjoy reading it.  Rumor has it that I’m due for similar treatment, but time only will tell.  Apparently I’m the only man this side of hell who ever got Ernie Pyle to talk, for he generally just keeps everybody else pouring out their souls.  I reversed the procedure after everyone had left the tent, and had a wonderful time listening to him, his experiences here, and analysis of what it all means.

So you like to hear the wing-dinghies** go by.  Honey, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.  You’re worse than I am.  Guess I’ll have to marry you all over again and get in the Air Corps.  It’s been so long since we did that, that when I think of it, it leaves me rather weak all over.

George writes from B’ham that he is now 1A, which is a lot of stuff.  The kids and Evelyn have the flu, but are ok now.  Pappy Randall also writes.  They surely have been nice about writing me.  Mother also produced two letters which arrived today.

That’s about all.  I write on the typewriter—it’s easier to write a lot, but this is still equivalent to about 5 in hand.

Snooky, there just isn’t any way of telling you how Martha-sick I am.  But it just can’t be permitted to get me down, for I have a job to do here.  It is alright for younger pilots who have no knowledge but flying to come in and go out almost overnight, but someone has to stay to hold things together and keep up the old bomb delivery service.  The squadron commanders do that.  A squadron CO over here is a much more important cog than back there in the states.  He is the highest commander who regularly and frequently actually leads the men.  So, when this job is done, you’d better start sleeping on the left side of the bed again.

Cy

P.S. I love you.

*See: http://www.pbs.org/weta/reportingamericaatwar/reporters/pyle/

**My research indicates that “wing-dinghies” are small boats, attached to the underside of the wing on a sea-plane, used to get to shore after the plane lands.

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