1939 July 2 “You win a big battle, and I get the present!”

7/2/39

My Darling Wife:

Am I relieved to hear from you.  Since I got your letter and telegram on Friday I have been on pins and needles.  I was almost sure that your request not to telegraph or write was prompted by your clearing out of Wheaton, but not quite sure enough.  I was afraid something had gone wrong.

You’re an angel.  I’m so glad that we’ve passed this milestone.*  We have a couple of more to go, but this was the big one.  I wish I could have been there to look after things a little.  There really is no reason for it, but when I got the telegram, I just went weak all over.  I felt like I had just won a tough tennis match and was all poohed out.  Really, this has been your battle, and I’m proud of it.

One more point, and we will close this subject forever.  How do we stack up on the finances?  After tomorrow, I shall only owe John Fast $73.  I feel so much more like planning things now that you are mine and I know no one can bother you anymore.

Speaking of John, I didn’t know whether or not you let him know, so I telegraphed him (John Huntoon, of course) on Friday night that you had your clearance papers, although I didn’t use your name or initials in the telegram.

This present is getting me down.  You win a big battle, and I get the present!  It taint right.  Maybe we can do something about that this week.  The banks decided to close down on Saturdays for the summer, and I didn’t hear about it until Friday night.  Fortunately, I had $20 in Postal, for otherwise I should have spent the week-end on $2.  I didn’t cash my check when I got it last Wednesday.

The week-end has so far been glorious.  I hope yours has been the same.  Friday afternoon, I went swimming, and found Selby, the man with whom I work, waiting for me at the pool.  He is a very quiet person, and Ret rates him as the smartest young man in the department (he’s about 30).  After he left, I swam a little over a mile in the pool and then went home.  Your telegram was waiting for me, so I read it, had supper, and went to bed!

Yesterday, I went over to Philly to get the second pair of pants to my suit altered, and to again request the sample of goods.  I also found a pair of water-tite goggles for my distance swimming (the chlorine water wrecks my eyes when I am in for long periods of time at a single stretch) and a damned clever little bag for my swim suit.  It is black, a rubberized silk type of material, and of course, closes with a zipper.  Best of all, it is small enough to be convenient.  It took a couple of hours to find these, but they are worth it.

When I got home, Selby had been past and said he would drop by again.  About half an hour later he arrived and asked me to go down to the shore with him.  We got out to Seaside Heights a couple of hours later, and dove into the briny deep.  The place he picked is not the Atlantic City type, but is rather small and not too crowded.  The water was cold as hell, but I enjoyed it nevertheless.  It is the first time in salt water since I was 2 ½ years old.  The increased density of the salt water makes me float much better, and it is a lot easier in which to swim.  We got home about 7 PM.  On the way, we passed a giant dirigible hanger of the Navy at Lakehurst, N.J.  Boy, is that thing massive!

Dirigible Hanger at Lakehurst, New Jersey, Naval Engineering Station

The country through which we drove is quite wild, and should be good for some seclusive camping, if you get what I mean.

The moon was full last night and I took a long walk.  I hope you saw it too, for it was just made specially for us last night.

Today I am going swimming (for a change).  The sky is clear and cloudless and it is getting hot outside.

Darling, the tough part is over.  We don’t have to hide any more, and that is worth a lot to both of us.

I don’t know what I would do without my two pictures.  You sitting up there laughing at me when I feel blue and need a good kick, and Johny frowning down at me when I get a little out of bounds.  You know, once Mary Huntoon wanted to know why Johny and I didn’t get married!  I don’t know whether or not I told you, but she asked me last summer why we were stalling, cause she wanted some nieces and nefu’s!

The enclosure is something I clipped out about a week ago, and am finally remembering to send.  You see what you’re getting into?

So long for a few hours, darling.  Now you are mine and I’m damned proud of it.

Lots of love, Cy.

P.S. Glad you like stationery.

*Marty shared the news that her divorce from William Kennedy would be granted.  The actual Order was entered by the Court on July 13.

1943 November 16 “The American soldier is universally loved”

11/15/43The Private Snafu cartoon, “The Home Front” is released: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=siEK24Pq2xc

11/15/43 Mission:

TACTICAL OPERATIONS (Twelfth Air Force):
   XII Air Support Command B-25's bomb Kalamaki airfield in Greece, and its fighters patrol the battle area. Other NATAF fighters hit road traffic S of Ancona, Italy.

11/15/43 Mission:

TACTICAL OPERATIONS (Twelfth Air Force):
   B-25's bomb the airfields at Sibenik, Yugoslavia and Eleusis, Greece; the latter mission is escorted by Fifteenth Air Force P-38's.

11/16/43, Italy

Honey:

What a life.  Pilots come and pilots go and I go on forever.  I’ve learned one thing.  When there isn’t any work I get out of camp.  It makes things easier.

Say, remember the Italian song “Funiculi funicula?”  Well, I’ve got its complete history.  It’s real name is “Napoli”.  Napoli is a glorified resort town and the people specialize in being gay.  The chorus is “Jamme, jamme, n’coppa a funiculi, funicular, etc.”  Translated from Napolitana, which is part Spanish and part Italian, “jamme” means “let’s go,” “n’coppa” means up to, and “funicular” is the Italian name for the kind of gear tracked cable car used to go from the bottom of Vesuvius up to the top.  In other words, going up on the big blow hole is quite an excursion and some Joe wrote a song about it! [See: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d6jmCECj7cY

I’ve talked with Italians old and young, educated, poor, professional soldiers and professional men.  They all tell the same bitter story.  Fascism was shoved down their throats, using starvation as a wedge.  The good fascists ate well and had all they wanted.  The other 90% have been without new clothes for 3 years, sans soup, toothpaste, and actually bread.

The Italian is governed more by emotion than by rules.  As a soldier, neither the officer nor the men wanted a war against the allies and their apathy reflected on their work.  In addition, and I can bear this out by personal knowledge, Jerry gave them inferior equipment as a steady diet.

It is the opinion of the better class Italian that a personal feud between Eden and Mussolini was the cause of the initial break.  This was made over the veto of all of Mussolini’s staff and the open will of the people.

There seems to be a great deal of enthusiasm for a new government patterned after and policed by ours.  They want no part of their king, fascism, or any European power.

On the other side of the picture are the Yugoslav and Greek prisoners of war who have only recently come out of the local prison camps.  Some of these hate all Italians, others only despise the Fascists.  Trying to divorce each man from his personal hatred of a few individuals and make all see the future in a reasonable perspective will be a colossal task.

One thing I know which will help the situation is that the American soldier is universally loved.  Every place an American convoy stops you will find a batch of kids sitting around and on at least a dozen G.I.’s.  Even the stoic Arab has a liking for the American soldier which he has not for any other.

Lt. Vulcano, scion of the Italian family which has adopted me, spent about 2 hours last night explaining verb endings, agreement of adjectives and nouns, etc.  His 3 daughters, son, and wife said it was more fun to let me talk my horrible grammar than to teach me to speak properly.  He insisted that an educated man shouldn’t run around splitting infinitives, even though only in the country a month.  Honey, you’d love these people.  Pappa is a pilot from the last war and has been in the Carabinieri Reali [Italian National Police force], since then.  He is well educated and son of a Baron.  Mamma, although about 40, is still a hell of a good looking woman.  When Pappa first saw her, he tossed over his baronetcy without any hesitation.  Maria, “Pupa”, the 19 yr old big sister is a

Maria Pupa

knock out.  She has a hell of a time keeping the other three in line.  They razz her so much about being ugly, which she is far from, that she is pleasantly non-conceited.  Lilliano, 17, is a tomboy from way back.  Her father says she gave him no end of trouble slugging German officers (including a major) who dared speak to her.  Rita, 16, is the quiet angelic type—not sissy at all.  Nino, the 10 yr old brother is just a typical kid.  He studies his Latin every night, says good night at 9 o’clock, and is a perfect gentleman.  It is also well known that he can take care of himself in a fist fight.  I let him put on my full winter flying equipment one night, and boy, was he hepped up.

Pappa likes my military bearing, especially while dancing.  Momma likes the coffee I bring once in a while as well as having that old maternal instinct mammas get when they see my ugly puss.  They are living in the police barracks and I seem to be the only one invited into same.  Pappa says I am “un diavola,” [a devil] and should be shot at sight.  Lilliano is made up just like Mary Huntoon and razzes hell out of me in the same way.  Rita thinks it is all very confusing.  Nino specializes in covering me with his gang whenever I go.  Two of the kids, little Rita whom I mentioned before, and 7 yr old Antonio, have their fathers in PW camps.  They’re completely starved for paternal affection, and I seem to have been able to help somewhat.

Last night I saw something new.  The rain had just stopped where a complete rainbow formed from the moon!  It didn’t have all of the color of the rainbow, but was semicircular and ended in the ground.  The ring around the moon is common and would be a circular rainbow if from the sun.  But I’ve never seen the other type or even heard of it before.

We had a terrific cross wind yesterday and the old A-20 got tossed around like the PT’s I used to fly at Curtiss.  One of these days I will have to fly another type of airplane, and I sure hate the thought of it.  I guess I can do it but it will be almost as hard as saying goodbye to Johny or some other old friend.

Oh, nuts.  Grp has just swiped another jeep.  My transportation section is priceless, and as a result, we have always had more in commission than other outfits.

Nuts, I’m mad so I’ll stop.  All my love, Cy

P.S.  By the time you get this it will be one year since you promised me as soon as you got to Chi you would see Doc Sheaff.  You’ve put it off for school, work, and dental work.  I hope you don’t put it off again for your trip.   You’re not always going to be where you can have such excellent medical attention.  Cy.

1944 November 10: Hey! Leave the Navy alone!

11/10/44 

Hi Toots:

            What a busy little man I am.  I would estimate that I have roughly 100 letters or publications over the desk per day, all of which have to be acted upon or absorbed.  This is in addition to the difficulties inherent in this becoming a separate staff section, breaking in a new clerk, and the boss pulling out.  I’ve had practically the whole thing since the third day I got here, and apparently everyone is happy.

            From some of the remarks in Bob Fleet’s letter, I’m not the only one Tom has been too busy to write to.  When I last saw Burt, he mentioned that he had never heard a word from Tom or Mag directly in many months.

            I got a nice letter from Mary Huntoon finally.  She’s a good kid.

            There is nothing worth buying in this town that I haven’t already bought.  I spent 3 hours tramping around in the rain yesterday, and couldn’t see anything worth buying for anybody.  That is, nothing but one purchase.  Although it is for the house since you’re such an integral part of same, try to consider it as a personal gift.  I know it must look selfish for me to keep sending you things which I shall also use someday, but it isn’t meant that way.  I just buy good things when I see them, and unfortunately the only things worth buying are not personal articles.

            Maybe I can find a silk scarf like the one I mailed you for Mother, Nena & Emma.

            So you can drive a 5-ton truck now! * What in hell caused that.  I have trouble with a 2 ½ ton jobby.  Of course, I can drive one on any road or lack thereof.

            Glad to hear Anne Mercer is a momma and ok.  That may settle the kids down a little.  I wish Jack hadn’t come overseas.  I would have thought more of him. 

            Hey!  Leave the Navy alone!  They’re slick lads.

            More tomorrow.  Mover over tonight and let your imagination go.

            All my love, Cy.

*I believe this refers to Marty’s participation in the Women’s Volunteer Service.