Letter XII “Problems”
True backpacking
The 11th Airborne Division, still in New Guinea and continuing to specialize their training – little do they know that they are coming closer and closer to their time for combat. Their commander, General Swing, awaits the word from General MacArthur.
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Letter XII ?? Problems ?? 0800 Sunday 9/3/44
Dear Mom, We will start off first with “Webster’s” definition of the word — problem. “A question for solution, and a proposition to be demonstrated.” This is all very true, only in the army, although it is demonstrated, it never turns out in a satisfactory solution.
For some unknown reason, the hint of a problem soon-to-be gets around long before it is ever officially announced. When once you hear about it, you begin to wonder just how you will get out of going and wonder if going on sick call will help. The best thing is to try to get on some detail, but generally, the details floating around loose at that time are of such a nature that going on the problem is much easier.
No one likes or cares for problems including the officers and non-coms, except maybe a few who are bucking and hope to show their leader that they have tactical and sure-fire P.F.C. abilities.
No matter how easy or simple the problem, you always have to carry around a load of unnecessary equipment. On the day set forth for the problem they put up a list of the stuff you are to take with you. After an hour or two spent trying to get everything into the pack, just big enough to hold a pair of socks, a tent, poles, rain gear, poncho, insect repellent and your toilet articles, you are pretty well tired out and lie down for a few minutes rest. You no sooner do that than the sergeant will come around with a revised list of equipment and again you unpack and re-pack. This goes on through the day until finally in utter despair you pick up your duffel bag and carry that on your back.
Finally the whistle blows. You hurriedly put on your pack, pick up your rifle and dash to fall in the formation forming outside. After standing there for 30 or 40 minutes, you realize that all your rushing was in vain and that you have a chance to untangle yourself from the pack harness and straighten it out. You no sooner start to do this than the order comes to pull out and get going.
While marching out, it suddenly dawns on you that a quick visit to the latrine would have helped, but is now impossible to get to. After walking for two hours, your pack feels like a ton and your five-pound rifle now weighs twenty. The heat is slowly getting you down and you begin to wonder, is it all worth it? Soon the Lt. comes prancing alongside of you and walking just as easy as falling off a log. He says a few words to you, such as, “Close it up.” “Keep in line” or “How you doing fella?” as he passes by. You wonder how the devil he can keep it up, until you take a good look at his pack. Many are the times when I wondered what would happen if I stuck a pin in it. Wonderful things these basketball bladders.
When finally you arrive at the next to last stop, the Lt. calls his men around him and proceeds to try and tell them what this problem is about and what we are supposed to do. We are all too tired to listen in the first place and in the second place — don’t give a damn. All this time you watch the Lt. and soon you realize that he didn’t much care for the problem and is probably just as annoyed as you.
When you finally hit the place where the problem is, confusion takes over and the problem is started. Orders are given and not carried out, cause generally the G.I. has been told before to do something else, so that by the time order is restored, all is in a worse shape than before. The Lt. takes out a map to try and locate himself and is only to find that the map he has is the one relating to last week’s problem. No matter, from then on, where the C.P. and assembly area were to be, now, wherever you are at that particular moment will become the C.P. and assembly area. If the rest of the company was fortunate enough to locate the right place — the hell with them — let them find us.
You are then assigned to different spots and told to dig in. Now, digging in calls for some thought. If you just dig a slit trench, it doesn’t call for much work, but you can always be seen and so you can’t sleep. But, if you dig a larger hole, called a foxhole, you can safely sleep away the night and also — the problem. Myself? I go for the foxhole on the slit trench side as it affords me the opportunity of sleeping in a horizontal position.
Soon the whistle blows announcing the end of the problem. You awaken to find that it is the next day and that once again you slept through the whole mess. Questions are asked as to who or what side won, did the enemy get through and a thousand and one others. Before leaving the place, you now have to shovel the dirt back into your hole, as leaving blank open holes around are dangerous to life and limb. When that is completed, you put your backpack back on and trudge your weary way back.
Upon arriving back in camp, critiques are held and then you find out what you were supposed to have learnt while you were out there. I have always been of the opinion that if critiques were held before going out, it would save us all a lot of trouble and also make going on the problem — unnecessary. Once back in your tent, you unpack and think that now you will lie down and have a little nap, only to find out that the detail you tried to get on in order to miss the problem has materialized and that you are to get up and get on it. Oh, weary bones, will they never have any rest?
Don’t give up, for after all, the war can’t last forever. One thing you can always count on though, problems are the pride and joy of the army and will continue on being as long as there is an army.
Hope I’ve confused you as much as we are. I’ll leave you as that damn detail has come up and so I’ll have to carry my weary body out and hope I last out the day.
Confused as all hell, Everett
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And training continued…….
New guinea, training
click on images to enlarge.
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Military Humor – 
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Farewell Salutes –
Linwood “Stu” Allen (101) – Cherry Hill, NJ; USMC, WWII
Robert Fraser – Detroit, MI; US Navy, USS Midway / draftsman @ Hughes Aircraft
Salute to outgoing/incoming soldiers
Genevieve Jennings (101) – Owosso, MI; US Women’s Marine Corps, WWII
Gordon “Matt” Mathias – Allentown, PA; US Navy, USS Midway
Dorothy F. Parker (100) – Park Falls, WI, US Women’s Marine Corps, WWII, machinist’s mate
William Salstrom – Seattle, WA; US Merchant Marines, WWII / US Army, Korea
Bruce B. Thomas – Port Townsend, WA; US Air Force, Vietnam, Medic
John H. Tidman Jr. – Nashville, TN; US Navy, flight engineer, USS Midway, Essex & Oriskany
Robert G. Vegvary – brn: Geszt, HUNG; US Army, Vietnam, Major (Ret.), 1st & 5th Special Forces, 82nd Airborne Division, Bronze Star, Purple Heart
James P. Watson – Martinsburg, MO; US Merchant Marines / US Army, WWII
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Army problem training – looks like me in the morning (going in circles)
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Letter XI “Java at 2100”
This following letter from Smitty will show how much the G.I.’s of WWII, and those of today have in common. Human nature doesn’t seem to change very much, even in 80 years.
11th Airborne Division patches
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Letter XI Java at 2100 Thursday 8/10/44
Dear Mom, Java at 2100 is nothing more or less than a good old-fashioned gabfest or the same as women folk back home call a “Koffee Klotch.”
There are a few differences though that need a little explaining. At home, the girls gather and talk, generally about the one who isn’t present; including in this conversation, her husband and his family, also hers and then down the line to her most distant relatives. Also, they will gab for hours about the gossip of the neighborhood and of course add a little more to it. At times, arguments amongst themselves will ensue and that ends the present meeting and the next few to come.
With us there are a few differences and variations, such as: we don’t care whether the person being talked about is present or not; although his absence is preferred and appreciated. Of course we have our little gossip circles, but they mostly run toward the rumor side and therefore no one puts much stock in them. Invariably we always talk of home, such as what we did before the President greeted us, also what we intend to do when we get back. This home talk most always leads into a lively debate as to whose state, city or county is the best. Arguing that topic is just like arguing religion; no one is ever impressed or convinced.
The officers are always good for a good 20 to 30 minute razing, with no one pulling their punches. At times though you must be careful, as there might be someone present who is bucking like the devil and the talk will go back. Never is there a good word said in the officers’ defense and I doubt if there ever will be.
Another colorful period is spent when someone brings up non-coms. What is said at this time is unprintable. Surprise to say that if I was visited by the seven plagues, I wouldn’t be as bad off as the non-coms, if even half the things wished upon him should ever befall him. I sometimes wonder if ever in their own conceited way they know just how the private feels toward them.
At home, the girls are all gathered around strictly talking, but here again we vary. Some may be playing cards with every now and then some player adding his say, much to the consternation and anguish of the others. Over in another corner are the die-hards who always listen for rumors and continue on talking about the latest one long after the others have dropped it.
All this time the water is being boiled outside in a large five gallon can. Every now and then, someone will go out to see if it is time to add the coffee. When once the coffee is added, there comes over the tent a lull and then everyone shuffles out to get his cup, which he will dip into the can of coffee before coming back in. Conversation for a while is a combination of talk, loud sips and the blowing of the hot Java. We manage also to provide milk and sugar and at times, crackers. The last is generally present only around paydays.
I don’t know whether it is the effects of the hot coffee upon the vocal chords or not, but always right after the coffee, some would-be Crosby or Sinatra starts singing some old favorite and that is when music conquers over all. They say music has its charms, but after listening to it here — I have my doubts.
Some nights the conversations are really good and so is the coffee, on those occasions, talking lasts after taps has blown and then you are sure to hear the mournful wail of the company charge of quarters meekly saying, “Aw fellas, put out the lights.” Never has it happened that the request was heeded and I doubt if it ever will be. It isn’t long after though that the first sergeant comes barging in bellowing, “Get those blankety-blank lights out and get the H–l to bed!” Lights immediately go out and good-nights can be heard throughout the company area as Koffee Klotches all over break up.
Peace and quiet prevails until all one can hear is the not too soft patter of feet heading out to the place where, at some time or another, we all must frequent. Bits of conversation can be heard drifting through the night, but generally isn’t worth listening to, as it is only the rumor mongers at work again in their office.
Before I close this chapter, allow me to say that the evening coffee, sugar and milk are all donated cheerfully by the fellow most unfortunate enough to have had K.P. the day before.
Having nothing more to gab about and also having to pay a visit down to the end of the company street, I’ll close before I have to make a run for it.
Gabbingly yours,
Everett (The Donator of This Evening’s Coffee)
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Military Humor –
Farewell Salutes –
Jay E. Baker – Choate, TX; US Army, Korea
David L. Copley – IA; US Air Force, communications / Ham Radio safety team, USS Midway
Old Glory at sunrise; courtesy of Dan Antion @ No Facilities
Joseph E. Crivella Jr. – Pittsburgh, PA; US Navy, USS Midway
Bruce W. Hayward – Wayne, MI; US Navy, Vietnam, OCS, LT., pilot, USS Midway, Silver Star
Gordon W. Mathias – Newman, GA; US Navy, USS Midway
Donald C. Sech – Watertown, NY; US Navy, USS Midway
David Truitt – Streeterville, IL; US Army / US Dept. of Defense / USS Midway memorial @ Chicago Midway Airport
Alfred B. Vancura – Garrettsville, OH; US Navy, USS Midway
Billy J. Walker (101) – Jasper, TX; US Navy, WWII, PTO, USS Platte, Midway & Chincoteague
Letter X JUNGLE JUICE
K-P duty
In Dobodura, New Guinea, the 457th began to notice severe shortages in their sugar supply. As it turned out, there was a major boot-legging operation in progress. With the absence of alcohol, the men felt necessity would be the mother of invention, but they were caught with their stills in production. The makeshift liquor companies were immediately put out of business.
My father had other ideas. The following letter was one I never tired of reading; it always gives me a chuckle or two. My father’s ingenuity was unfailing. He used to tell me, “If you think hard enough, there’s a solution to every problem.” After years of having tended bar, this was going to be right up Smitty’s alley.
Letter # 10 has been previously published by “Whistling Shade” magazine in 2007. I submitted it during their war story inquiry. And also, in The Miller Family’s “Soldiers’ Stories vol. 1”
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Letter X “Jungle Juice” Monday 7/17/44
Dear Mom,
The title of this letter, at first glance, will no doubt puzzle you, but I suspect at the end you will know more than you do now. Before going any farther with this, allow me to explain the whys and wherefores of its origin and purpose.
The Army has been telling us, for some time now, that any day (they mean year), they are going to issue us hot, dry soldiers some beer. They haven’t told us the percentages yet, but never fear, it will be 3.2. In the meantime, we’re here in New Guinea patiently awaiting the day. We know, because our eyes and nostrils do not lie, that there is good whiskey slyly floating about. Try as we may to lay hold of some, as yet, none have succeeded.
There is an old saying, told to me by a much older and wiser veteran of this man’s army that goes: “Take something away from a soldier and he will, in time, make or find a better substitute.” Hence and forever after – Jungle Juice.
“IS IT JUST ME OR DOES ORANGE JUICE TASTE FUNNY WITHOUT VODKA!”
To begin the making of this liquor substitute, one must first overcome a few minor details in order to secure the necessary equipment and ingredients. First: You may try to cultivate the friendship of the mess sergeant. This is easily accomplished if one is well endowed with currency. Second: You may try getting on guard duty and taking a chance of getting the job of protecting the mess hall. (The odds against this working out is ten to one against you.) This is the hard way of acquiring the friendship of the mess sergeant and we will continue. With your new buddy’s help, you now have in your proud and cherished possession a quantity of raisins, dried prunes or apricots and some sugar. (Very rarely will one come up with any yeast, so we will forget it.)
Now, we need something to put all this stuff into. To make matters worse, it cannot be metal and it must be waterproof. A nail barrel will do the trick, if we soak it in water, thereby allowing the wood to swell. You could go to the supply sergeant and get a saw, hammer, nails and boards, but in taking this route, you risk your supplier discovering your idea and you will have to pay him off with the promise that, when finished, he will receive a share. Not only is this undesirable, but now you will have to sit out in the hot sun and build a cask. My first suggestion of a nail barrel will not only save you labor, but also add an extra drink of this wonderful alcoholic beverage.
Now, we are ready to begin. Into the empty cask, put your fruit and sugar, making certain to add water. With your hands, (clean ones are advisable) stir everything around while crushing some of the fruit with your fists. This is what’s called the “rapid juice extraction process.” When finished, cover the cask with a clean piece of linen long enough to drape over the side. Here, you can also use a G.I. handkerchief or undershirt. (This is just a sanitary precaution and it in no way affects the product.)
Now, dig yourself a hole (under your bunk preferably) large enough to receive the cask and conceal it. This is a necessary precaution as the manufacture of Jungle Juice is frowned upon by the Army and especially you C.O. or Inspection Officer. The finding of such might cause embarrassment. This way it will only be found if someone should trip you C.O. and he inadvertently falls face down on the spot.
All you have to do at this point is use some self-control and patiently wait out the next two or three weeks as the fruit, sugar and water do their stuff. We all know from experience that you will only sit out two weeks, so let’s get on with the last step. Surely you have kept busy locating empty bottles and cleaning them, so dig up the cask.
To accomplish the final phase, it is wise to get your mattress cover and put it over a clean, steel helmet. You will find that the Army had supplied you with a damn good filter. The whole parts stay on top and the liquid freely pours through, without blemish to the helmet. Pour the juice into the bottles and seal with candle wax, making them air tight. Here is the most difficult step because by this time, not only your curiosity, but your craving for a taste is so high — you’re almost completely out of control. But, you must put your contraband away for one more week.
As the expected day approaches, I want to warn you to be on the lookout for newly acquired friends who start calling on you, regardless of the fact that they never came near you before. Yes, you are suddenly becoming the most popular guy in camp. When the hour approaches, marked as the time of reckoning, I would advise you to make up your mind that you are not going to finish it all in one sitting. Actually, this precaution is really unnecessary, as the Jungle Juice will decide that for you.
I won’t describe the taste. For some it is bitter and others say sweet. No two batches are alike and in fact the Juice has no opposition. Even its most adamant foes agree that for variety, the Juice has no equal.
SUCCEESS!
This recipe is given free of charge.
I hope to hear your hiccupping in your next letter soon.
Your biermeister son & never to be dry again, Everett
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General Swing decided, after the stills were destroyed, to bring ice cream machines and set up sports competitions. Teams were made up for volleyball, softball and tackle football. This proved not only to lift their spirits, but the activities kept them in top physical shape.
[ It always amazed me that such a letter as “Jungle Juice” made it through the censors without Smitty ever getting into trouble. (Perhaps the censor was awaiting the delivery of his own bottle?) His little operation was never discovered. ]
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Military Humor –
Someone was drunk when they decided this one!
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Farewell Salutes –
Louis G. Andrews – Colonial Heights, VA; US Navy, navigator, USS Long Beach
Jason Campbell – Lubbock, TX; US Army, Lt. Colonel, Special Forces Commander @ Ft. Liberty
Neil B. Chandler – USA; US Navy, WWII, Chief Warrant Officer (Ret. 37 y.)
Jelani Hill – FL; US Navy, electrician’s mate, USS Truman
John Klein – Land of Lake, FL; US Army, Vietnam
Henry T. Kossler – Pittsburgh, PA; US Air Force/USAFR, TSgt. (20 y.)
Herman J. Sundstad – MN; US Army, WWII, CBI, 1stLt. # 0-1299324, 5307th Composite Unit, Merrill’s Marauders, Bronze Star, KIA (Burma)
John P. Sweat – USA; US Army, MSgt. (21 y.), 38th Air Defense Artillery Brigade
Billy J. Thomas – Oak Grove, OK; US Navy, boatswain (19 y.)
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Letter IX “A Day’s Venture”
New Guinea WWII
Letter IX “A Day’s Venture” Monday 6/26/44
Dear Mom,
Yesterday, being Sunday, a day of rest, I decided to ride around this place and see something. I made up my mine though that this sightseeing tour of mine, this time, would be done as a civilian completely forgetting I’m in the army. You have to do this in order to see the place in its true light, otherwise if you don’t all you can see is hardship and work. With my mind cleared of Khaki, I set forth in a jeep with a buddy of mine; who I dare say couldn’t see the sense of our venture.
As we drove along in the still quiet, the thought kept coming to me of the enormous job the boys before us had to confront and overcome. Here and there along the way you could see some old emplacement or deserted village. These villages were really something to see with their straw-thatched roofs and open sided houses. We wouldn’t call them shed, but that is just what they looked like.
One can readily understand why the authors of those travelogues really go all out when describing these islands. You forget the heat as cooling breezes blow over you from the coast and the shade of the giant coconut trees gradually engulf you.
We passed one spot close to the coast that suddenly shook us with the horrible realization of our place and mission. It wasn’t large or spread out, but all was peaceful and quiet though men were gaily chatting and swimming nearby. We entered by an archway on which was inscribed, “Japanese Cemetery.” We passed now upon some of the little white markers all neatly lined up and lettered. Although they were once an active enemy, one could not help but see the shame and waste of war.
We looked around the beach for a while, then decided to go in for a swim. The water here is amazingly warm and clear. You could never believe it unless you could see it as I have. How crystal clear and immune of blemish this water here is. Why, to peer down 25 feet and see bottom is really an easy thing to do. The bottom is sand, sand at its finest and whitest literally covered with shells of every shape and color with here and there a grotesque piece of coral. You can really pick out the coral as it shows up a faint green while the shells throw all colors of the rainbow up at you until your eyes are completely dazzled by the many-colored lights.
By this time, the sun was well on its way toward the horizon and dusk rapidly approaching. Here and there a faint star twinkled until suddenly the sky was almost completely covered with thousands. The moon finally appeared in all its bright glory and reflected itself a hundred times over on the waves before us. The end of the day had come and with it also my venture into a world never to be forgotten. This day will long be remembered and stored with the rest of my most treasured memories.
Good night! And may God bless you, Everett
PS. I shall write to Joe Dumb as soon as I send this letter on its way. Be good and take care of yourself.
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A beach of Lae, New Guinea
Smitty always made mention of how hard the soldiers before him had to struggle. He noticed that no matter how hard people or nature tried to disguise their surroundings, the scars of war were everywhere. In New Guinea, my father had a clear view of the battle remnants of General Robert Eichelberger’s Australian and American troops from when they fought on a similar terrain and in battles as fiercely intense as Guadalcanal – on each island the territories had to be taken inch by inch. (Many veterans know of what I speak.)
Lt. Gen. George C. Kenney, Chief of Allied Air Forces, in the southwest Pacific sent his complaints to the War Dept. and Gen. “Hap” Arnold, head of the U.S. Army Air Forces to explain just that in 1942:
“… The Japanese is still being underrated. There is no question of our being able to defeat him, but the time, effort, blood and money required to do the job may run to proportions beyond all conception, particularly if the devil is allowed to develop the resources he is now holding.
“Look at us in Buna. There are hundreds of Buna ahead for us. The Japanese there has been in a hopeless position for months. He has been outnumbered heavily throughout the show. His garrison has been whittled down to a handful by bombing and strafing. He has no air support and his own Navy has not been able to get passed our air blockade to help him. He has seen lots of Japs sunk off shore a few miles away. He has been short on rations and has had to conserve his ammunition, as his replenishment from submarines and small boats working down from Lae at night and once by parachute from airplanes has been precarious, to say the least. The Emperor told them to hold, and believe me, they have held! As to their morale — they still yell out to our troops, “What’s the matter, Yanks? Are you yellow? Why don’t you come in and fight?” A few snipers, asked to surrender after being surrounded, called back, “If you bastards think you are good enough, come and get us!”
“…I’m afraid that a lot of people, who think this Jap is a “pushover” as soon as Germany falls, are due for a rude awakening. We will have to call on all our patriotism, stamina, guts and maybe some crusading spirit or religious fervor thrown in to beat him. No amateur team will take this boy out. We have got to turn professional. Another thing: there are no quiet sectors in which troops get started off gradually, as in the last war. There are no breathers on this schedule. You take on Notre Dame every time you play!”
It was after this one month later after this report that the specialized training for the 11th A/B began and the War Dept. also saw the need for improved weapons for this “new type of war.” Under the direction of Colonel William Borden this effort resulted in: 105-mm and 155-mm mortars, flamethrowers, ground rockets, colored smoke grenades and the skidpans for towing heavy artillery in muddy terrains.
Gen. Eichelberger
But – still at this point – only about 15% of the Allied resources were going to the Pacific.
(These two photographs are courtesy of the World War II Database. ww2db.com)
Crashed Zeros at Lae, New Guinea
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Military Humor – 
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Farewell Salutes –
Mary Bailey – Lake Orion, MI; Civilian, WWII, a “Rosie-the-Riveter”
Ralph W. Bock – Cedar Rapids, IA; US Army, WWII, ETO, 661 Tank Destroyer Btn./69th Infantry Division, radio operator
Robert C. Brim Jr. – Republic, MO; US Navy, WWII
Ronald L. “Duke” Costa – Fieldbrook, CA; US Navy, Vietnam, USS Midway
Ronald W. “Ronnie” Forrester – Odessa, TX; USMC, Vietnam, Captain, # 464748563, 533 Attack Sq./AG12/1st Marine Air Wing, A-6A pilot, KIA (NK)
Larry W. Gordon – Kittitas Valley, SD; US Navy, USS Midway
Romualdas Kriauciunas – brn: LITH; US Army, psychologist
Kris Kristofferson – San Mateo, CA; US Army, Captain, helicopter pilot, Ranger, 8th Infantry Division / Beloved actor, singer, writer
Elmer C. Smith (101) – Orchard Park, NY; US Army Air Corps, WWII, PTO, 502BG/Bronze Star, Pearl Harbor survivor
Billy J. Thomas – Oak Grove, OK; US Navy, boatswain (19 y.)
Bobby D. Wheeler – Aragon, GA; US Army, Korea & Vietnam, MSgt. (Ret. 24 y.)
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Letter IX “A Day’s Venture”
New Guinea WWII
Letter IX “A Day’s Venture” Monday 6/26/44
Dear Mom,
Yesterday, being Sunday, a day of rest, I decided to ride around this place and see something. I made up my mine though that this sightseeing tour of mine, this time, would be done as a civilian completely forgetting I’m in the army. You have to do this in order to see the place in its true light, otherwise if you don’t all you can see is hardship and work. With my mind cleared of Khaki, I set forth in a jeep with a buddy of mine; who I dare say couldn’t see the sense of our venture.
As we drove along in the still quiet, the thought kept coming to me of the enormous job the boys before us had to confront and overcome. Here and there along the way you could see some old emplacement or deserted village. These villages were really something to see with their straw-thatched roofs and open sided houses. We wouldn’t call them shed, but that is just what they looked like.
One can readily understand why the authors of those travelogues really go all out when describing these islands. You forget the heat as cooling breezes blow over you from the coast and the shade of the giant coconut trees gradually engulf you.
We passed one spot close to the coast that suddenly shook us with the horrible realization of our place and mission. It wasn’t large or spread out, but all was peaceful and quiet though men were gaily chatting and swimming nearby. We entered by an archway on which was inscribed, “Japanese Cemetery.” We passed now upon some of the little white markers all neatly lined up and lettered. Although they were once an active enemy, one could not help but see the shame and waste of war.
We looked around the beach for a while, then decided to go in for a swim. The water here is amazingly warm and clear. You could never believe it unless you could see it as I have. How crystal clear and immune of blemish this water here is. Why, to peer down 25 feet and see bottom is really an easy thing to do. The bottom is sand, sand at its finest and whitest literally covered with shells of every shape and color with here and there a grotesque piece of coral. You can really pick out the coral as it shows up a faint green while the shells throw all colors of the rainbow up at you until your eyes are completely dazzled by the many-colored lights.
By this time, the sun was well on its way toward the horizon and dusk rapidly approaching. Here and there a faint star twinkled until suddenly the sky was almost completely covered with thousands. The moon finally appeared in all its bright glory and reflected itself a hundred times over on the waves before us. The end of the day had come and with it also my venture into a world never to be forgotten. This day will long be remembered and stored with the rest of my most treasured memories.
Good night! And may God bless you, Everett
PS. I shall write to Joe Dumb as soon as I send this letter on its way. Be good and take care of yourself.
________________________________________________________________________________
A beach of Lae, New Guinea
Smitty always made mention of how hard the soldiers before him had to struggle. He noticed that no matter how hard people or nature tried to disguise their surroundings, the scars of war were everywhere. In New Guinea, my father had a clear view of the battle remnants of General Robert Eichelberger’s Australian and American troops from when they fought on a similar terrain and in battles as fiercely intense as Guadalcanal – on each island the territories had to be taken inch by inch. (Many veterans know of what I speak.)
Lt. Gen. George C. Kenney, Chief of Allied Air Forces, in the southwest Pacific sent his complaints to the War Dept. and Gen. “Hap” Arnold, head of the U.S. Army Air Forces to explain just that in 1942:
“… The Japanese is still being underrated. There is no question of our being able to defeat him, but the time, effort, blood and money required to do the job may run to proportions beyond all conception, particularly if the devil is allowed to develop the resources he is now holding.
“Look at us in Buna. There are hundreds of Buna ahead for us. The Japanese there has been in a hopeless position for months. He has been outnumbered heavily throughout the show. His garrison has been whittled down to a handful by bombing and strafing. He has no air support and his own Navy has not been able to get passed our air blockade to help him. He has seen lots of Japs sunk off shore a few miles away. He has been short on rations and has had to conserve his ammunition, as his replenishment from submarines and small boats working down from Lae at night and once by parachute from airplanes has been precarious, to say the least. The Emperor told them to hold, and believe me, they have held! As to their morale — they still yell out to our troops, “What’s the matter, Yanks? Are you yellow? Why don’t you come in and fight?” A few snipers, asked to surrender after being surrounded, called back, “If you bastards think you are good enough, come and get us!”
“…I’m afraid that a lot of people, who think this Jap is a “pushover” as soon as Germany falls, are due for a rude awakening. We will have to call on all our patriotism, stamina, guts and maybe some crusading spirit or religious fervor thrown in to beat him. No amateur team will take this boy out. We have got to turn professional. Another thing: there are no quiet sectors in which troops get started off gradually, as in the last war. There are no breathers on this schedule. You take on Notre Dame every time you play!”
It was after this one month later after this report that the specialized training for the 11th A/B began and the War Dept. also saw the need for improved weapons for this “new type of war.” Under the direction of Colonel William Borden this effort resulted in: 105-mm and 155-mm mortars, flamethrowers, ground rockets, colored smoke grenades and the skidpans for towing heavy artillery in muddy terrains.
Gen. Eichelberger
But – still at this point – only about 15% of the Allied resources were going to the Pacific.
(These two photographs are courtesy of the World War II Database. ww2db.com)
Crashed Zeros at Lae, New Guinea
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Military Humor –
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Farewell Salutes –
Mary Bailey – Lake Orion, MI; Civilian, WWII, a “Rosie-the-Riveter”
Ralph W. Bock – Cedar Rapids, IA; US Army, WWII, ETO, 661 Tank Destroyer Btn./69th Infantry Division, radio operator
Robert C. Brim Jr. – Republic, MO; US Navy, WWII
Ronald L. “Duke” Costa – Fieldbrook, CA; US Navy, Vietnam, USS Midway
Ronald W. “Ronnie” Forrester – Odessa, TX; USMC, Vietnam, Captain, # 464748563, 533 Attack Sq./AG12/1st Marine Air Wing, A-6A pilot, KIA (NK)
Larry W. Gordon – Kittitas Valley, SD; US Navy, USS Midway
Romualdas Kriauciunas – brn: LITH; US Army, psychologist
Kris Kristofferson – San Mateo, CA; US Army, Captain, helicopter pilot, Ranger, 8th Infantry Division / Beloved actor, singer, writer
Elmer C. Smith (101) – Orchard Park, NY; US Army Air Corps, WWII, PTO, 502BG/Bronze Star, Pearl Harbor survivor
Billy J. Thomas – Oak Grove, OK; US Navy, boatswain (19 y.)
Bobby D. Wheeler – Aragon, GA; US Army, Korea & Vietnam, MSgt. (Ret. 24 y.)
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Letter VIII G.I. Labor
Smitty aka Everett Smith, New Guinea 1944
You may notice in Smitty’s letters that he does not mention his rigorous training or even combat in his later ones. I am unaware as to whether it was concern for his mother’s feelings, censorship restrictions, just plain denial or all of the above. As a child I asked if I would ever catch him in one of the old news reels and he said that he surely doubted it. He made a point to avoid any photographers in the event his mother caught sight of the pictures of him in combat. No matter how hard things had become, he found something else to talk about, but he did have a tongue-in-cheek humor that could both amuse someone even while he was complaining. [As most of you have noticed.]
At this point in time, the jungle war training had live firing and everything was becoming a bit clearer, a bit more realistic.
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Letter VIII G.I. Labor 6/17/44
Dear Mom,
Work! Work! And more work. After a week here, we still can’t figure when it is all going to end. We put tents up, then take them down. That is our biggest problem — tents.
The War Department in Washington has its offices in a large air-conditioned building costing hundreds of thousands of the taxpayer’s money. In this building, they have all the inventing geniuses of the land. All they do is design equipment and little what-nots for us. After that, it is submitted to the boards of Strategy, Health, Welfare, etc.
Now, some poor weak underfed inventor designed in a moment of frenzy and excitement, the Pyramidal Tent number M.6606. It passed everything and every board with flying colors — until finally — we got hold of it. We put them up with the loss of tons of perspiration and energy, only to find out later that someone, someplace around here didn’t like the way they looked. That job of putting the tents up was simple and much too easy. They sent down a set of blue prints that reminded me of the Empire State Building with the Holland Tunnel thrown in.
Well, next day, bright and early we arose wearily to find that we were to be split up into different sections such as log cutters, tent putter-uppers, log setters and log finders. We, the pole setter-uppers, sat down and pondered over the blue prints. We had to raise the center pole 16 inches, while on the four corners erect eight-foot poles. Then, connecting these poles at the top of 16-foot logs.
Sounds very easy, but for some reason or other, the trees grew in the jungle across a stream which all in all made log cutting and finding an exasperating business. Undaunted though, the men went in laden down with axes, saws and prismatic and soon logs were being cut — also fingers, arms and legs. It wasn’t long before we had the amount of lumber necessary to start work on the first domicile, house or tent. We were all set and ready, four men were holding up the corner poles and one man steadied the center pole. The whistle blows for us to fall in and be counted. We fall in, the corners fall out and the blame tent fell down. Oh Well!! What the heck, tomorrow’s another day and after all, the boys that belonged in that tent can sleep out.
This routine kept up for days until finally all our tents were erected and set. “Looks good,” we all said and good it was, but not to some of the higher-ups who again decided the tents were now too high and would we please, under threat of court-martial, lower the 4 corner posts to 5 feet. (Oh death, where is thy sting?) Upon completing this last detail, they then decided the tents should all be moved and then lined up on a new line. This has been going on for so long that each morning we have to stop, think and hold ourselves in check, for a few times we caught men automatically tearing down tents or putting up poles where there wasn’t anything to put up.
“The heat!” they said, and then gave us half a day off, only to try to squeeze it out of us the next afternoon. Well, maybe they can get blood out of a stone.
KP Duty
“Well, that’s all for that in this letter as I don’t want to tire you out completely listening to some of our other minor details that are stuck in here and there, such as digging latrine holes, building officer’s tents and officer knickknacks, polishing up, which we are experts at, K.P. duty, inspections, washing clothes and at night making little things for ourselves such as tables, desks, clothes racks, rings out of coins, wristwatch bands and loads of other do-dads. I guess though the hardest thing is trying all day not to do all this work and go on the gold-bricking standard. That last line would be understood by any buck private or G.I. as absolute fact and truth.
Wearily I end this letter and sleepily say regards to all. With love and kisses, Everett
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Major Burgess left the units temporarily to set up a jump school. This would give the glidermen and Burgess himself an opportunity to qualify as paratroopers. The parachutists began their glider training at Soputa airstrip that was no longer in regular use.
Okay – Everybody OUT!!
Up, Up and Away fellas!
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Military Humor –
Join the Army they said. It’ll be fun they said!
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Farewell Salutes –
Gregory J. Cello – Jamaica, NY; US Air Force, Vietnam
Oscar E. “Buzzy” Drasher – Hobbie, PA; US Navy, USS Midway
American Veterans Traveling Tribute – Vietnam Wall in the background,
courtesy of: Sharon’s Iconic Photography
Rodney L. “Butch” Faubion – Abilene, TX; US Navy, Vietnam, USS Midway & Kittyhawk
Pamela (Fagan) Gray – Birmingham, AL; US Air Force, Vietnam, nurse, Major (Ret. 21 y.)
Frank Jodlowski – Kirtland, OH; US Navy, sonar/radarman, USS Albin C. Cockrell, Midway & Frank Knox
Jerry A. Lyons – Owensboro, KY; US Air Force, Vietnam, Intelligence, MSgt.(Ret. 31 y.), Bronze Star
David J. Nagan Sr. – Kaukauna, WI; US Navy, WWII, ETO, USS Midway, fireman 1st Class
Sharron R. Scott – Ft. Smith, AR; Civilian, US Air Force employee
Clarence Simonson – Acme, CAN; Canadian Army, Cypru, MP, UN Provost Corps / Historian-Researcher-Author-Aviation Artist
Howard W. Young – Peru, IN; US Navy, USS Midway & Lewis, boilerman
Kevin L. Valentine – Denver, CO; US Navy, USS Midway & Forrestal, air traffic comptroller
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“Land” Letter VII
New Guinea hut
For a period of almost five months the 11th Airborne Division would receive jungle warfare and intensified combat unit ground training in the primitive land of jungles and mountains and thatched huts and the native population fondly called, Fuzzy Wuzzies. The Papua brigades and Allied forces, that fought in what constituted the Cartwheel Operations before the troopers arrived, made this landing possible.
Quartermaster Corps
The Dobodura area that the 11th A/B would make their home was inherited from the 5th Air Force. The first order of business was for the 408th Quartermaster trucks to deliver the pyramidal tents.
Letter VII Land 6/8/44
Dear Mom,
Well, here we are on the island of New Guinea. From what we can see if it so far, I know we’ll never go hungry as the coconut trees are as thick as a swarm of bees.
We started for our area in trucks after all the rumors said we’d walk and we “Oh!” and Ah’d” all throughout the trip. Not wanting to show the natives here how smart we are, the driver proceeded on his own when lo and behold — where were we? I don’t know, no one knows, so right away we all knew that wherever we were — that wasn’t where we were supposed to be.
Now, of course, we weren’t to blame, as after all, this is a strange and new place to us and they didn’t give us a Socony road map or a compass reading, so no matter — drive on — come what may. Of course, some large and strange appearing trees which grew in the road had different ideas and no matter how hard we hit them, they consistently set us back. How they ever managed to find a road to grow in is beyond me, but then they were here before us. Naturally, after the way they treated our truck, we gave them a wide berth, eventually leaving the road al together.
When after what seemed like hours, we finally found our area, much to the delight of the lower hind part of our anatomy. Then, our shoulders and backs had to haul our bags around until we found our tents. This was done very systematically: someone had the idea of first asking the captain just where we belonged and he proceeded to take us there. We could see at once that this place was no place for us and got right down to thinking up goldbricking alibis.
Work here is the main word we soon found out, and might I add we are all still trying to duck, but it seems that as soon as one finds a spot in the woods, oops I mean jungle, the tree-chopper-downers come along and there you are not only up to your neck in work, but also find out that now your haven is so exposed as to make it useless again as a hideout.
You might wonder what all this labor is about and also expect to find out in this chapter or letter, but no, it shall never be. I’m saving that for the next installment, which I’m sure you will be breathlessly awaiting.
Regards to all.
Love, Your son, Everett
Obviously, Smitty wasn’t the only soldier this happened to!!
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Military Humor – 
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Farewell Salutes –
Bernard J. Curran – NYC, NY; US Army Air Corps, WWII, PTO, Pvt. #11017039,17PS/24 Pursuit Group, POW, DWC (Camp # 1, Luzon)
Robert L. Deitrick – Coudersport, PA; US Navy, Korea, aircraft mechanic, USS Coral Sea, Palau & Midway
William E. Eby – Deschutes County, OR; US Army Air Corps, WWII, PTO, Cpl. # 19021222, 409 Signal Company
Francis Favreau – Morrisville, VT; US Navy, USS Midway
James Earl Jones – Arkabutla, MS; US Army, Korea, 2nd Lt. Rangers, HQ Co/38th RCT / Beloved actor
William C. Love Jr. – Chicago, IL; USMC, Vietnam / USMC Reserves
John A. Noble – Rochelle, GA; US Army, Vietnam & Middle East, Colonel (ret. 28 y.)
John Tarbert (24) – Port Deposit, MD; US Army Air Corps, WWII, ETO, SSgt. # 6947526, B-24 gunner “Mairzy Doats”, 703 BS/445 BG/8th Air Force, KIA (GER)
Charles A Vorel Jr. (19) – Omaha, NE; US Army, Korea, Pvt. # 16282238,Co B/1/19/24th Infantry Division, KIA (SK)
Jack E. Weber – Lake Jackson, MO; US Navy, Korea, USS Midway
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“I’m not coming out till Tuesday!!”
Courtesy of: Bob @ birdofbittness
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“Land Ho ! On the port side” Letter VI
Oro Bay, New Guinea, 1943
Just as Smitty expected, their destination was quickly coming up over the horizon. The fleeting glimpse of solid land, Milne Bay, New Guinea was only a short stopover for water (such a disappointment) and they continued their cruise north. The 11th Airborne Division came upon the humming waterfront of ships manipulating to unload troops, supplies and equipment in Oro Bay. They witnessed a paradoxal view of organized chaos.
Down the rope ladders they went to the beach taxis, DUKWs (2 ton amphibious vehicles commonly called “ducks”) and onward to the awaiting shoreline. At latitude 8*52’60S and longitude 148*30’0E, this would become the first step for many a G.I. on foreign soil. Once they actually hit the beach, the heat seemed to slam into the troopers and their uniforms became soaked within minutes, but they proceeded on to the Buna-Dobodura area to make their new base camp.
Dobodura, New Guinea
As written in the Australian newspaper, The Canberra Times, 1944: “New Guinea was a country out of the Stone Age that was whizzed through the centuries. A country that had previously known only natives, grass huts and raw nature has been blitzed from all angles with every piece of equipment known to modern engineering and warfare … the skies are as busy as a beehive with bombers and fighters and transports.”
The 11th had entered the jungles amidst torrential rains, mud and heat. On their first day, the meals were prepared in Australian chuck wagons and the idea of fresh food would be a distant memory from the past. From here on out, everything would be canned, dehydrated or cured. Having come from the fishing town of Broad Channel, Smitty was accustom to eating seafood and was even teased in boot camp for liking the creamed chipped beef on toast (more commonly known as -“shit-on-a-shingle”), but those days were long gone. I remember him saying more than once, “It wasn’t that the powdered eggs tasted bad — they just didn’t have a taste.”
New Guinea, WWII
Although General Swing, commander of the 11th A/B, had contracted malaria and was hospitalized when his men shipped out of the U.S., he boarded a plane for Brisbane, Australia to attend a meeting with Gen. MacArthur. Swing was briefed on the immediate plans for his command and was reminded that the 11th A/B was considered a “secret weapon”, they would be in reserve for the New Guinea action though. Swing managed to be in Dobodura in time to meet his men as they disembarked.
Letter VI Land Ho! On the port side
Dear Mom, Well, land is in sight so I’ll just hold off this letter awhile until I can find out for sure if this is what we have all been waiting for or just another island…. Yep and yes siree this is finally it and from what I have seen up to now it is going to prove not only an interesting place, but picturesque as well. Don’t know yet if we can say where we are, so I won’t attempt it.
Everyone is standing along the railings with glasses while those less fortunate are straining their eyes trying to get a glimpse of our new and strange surroundings. It is all very exciting and thrilling and must say one gets sort of feeling down deep that is hard to explain. It might be that the sight of this long awaited place has sub-consciously awaked us to the fact that we are one heck of a long way from home.
Now that we are here in a port with a chance of possibly getting this letter mailed, I’ll close this letter and mail it as I know how anxious you must be about me and would like to hear from me as soon as possible. I promise you though that I will continue to write my letters like this and would like you to save them all so that when I get back I will have something to read back on and maybe remember.
I did finally get around to so don’t worry any on that account. I know how you worry about things like that so thought it best that you know. That is just about all there is for now, so with regards to all and hoping this letter is the answer to your nightly prayers, I’ll close with all my love and millions of hugs and kisses.
Your son, Everett
CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE.
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Military Humor –
poking fun at intelligence
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Farewell Salutes –
Hugh Barnes – Apopka, FL; US Navy, USS Midway & Staten Island, mechanic & air rescue
Arlie P. Barrett – Bluff City, TN; US Army, Korea, Pfc. # 13320041, E Co/2/19/24th Infantry Division, KIA (Pusan, SK)
Glory reflected;
courtesy of Dan Antion
John A. Bodie – Sierra Vista, AZ; US Navy, Middle East, Petty Officer 1st Class (Ret. 21 y.), USS Midway, Enterprise, Abe Lincoln & Belleau Wood
Terry Carter – London, ENG; RAF
Louis DiGuiseppe – New Haven, CT; US Army, WWII, ETO, “Rainbow Division”, Bronze Star
Carlos L. Jensen – Richfield, UT; US Navy, USS Midway & Enterprise
Gerald E. Nichols – Ellicott City, MD; US Navy, helicopter technician (Ret. 26 y.), USS Midway Museum volunteer
Kenneth W. “Viper” Pettigrew – Miramar, CA; US Navy, Vietnam, pilot, Silver Star, USS Kitty Hawk & Midway, RAdmiral (Ret. 38 y.)
Roy W. Sherwood – Chubbuck, ID; US Navy, USS Midway
Jakari W. Taylor – Panama City, FL; US Army, Afghanistan, MP dog handler, DSgt.
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” YOU SAID ‘MONDAY’??!!! picture courtesy of: birdofbitterness.wordpress.com
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Letter V : “Yep! Still at Sea”
cards aboard a troop ship
Dear Letter V Yep! Still at sea
Mom, I was seriously thinking of tearing this letter up, as I couldn’t for the life of me locate an airmail stamp aboard ship. I kept at it though until finally fortune smiled down on me and success was mine. I have been pretty lucky so far at my card playing activities and should it hold out until we reach some civilized port, why I’ll be ahead and you will be pleasantly surprised when you receive my check for like amount. We can cable home money from abroad so might just as well take your advice — surprised? — and send it home for that day when we shall all return.
We have a large map of the world hanging up on the wall, which supplies us with as much amusement trying to figure out just where we are. According to figures, dates, times and patience, we should be hitting a port sometime real soon. In fact there is a rumor being whispered about that we will hit one tomorrow. Now this rumor comes from good authority seeing that it came from a fellow whose first sergeant is a second cousin to the uncle of the father of the first mate whose brother is third cook on this boat. Now, can’t you see why we are so glumly overjoyed? All kidding aside though, we should be nearing one soon.
Playing cribbage aboard ship
We saw a movie last night down in the mess hall. It was quite an old picture, but luckily for me, I hadn’t seen it before, so therefore I spent my most enjoyable hour so far on this trip. The officers on this trip haven’t been having it quite as tough as us, but rough enough. In order to pass away their time they have taken up the game of badminton with a zeal and I must say have really kept at it until now this regiment can boast it has not only badminton players, but experts as well. By the way, I have also learned how to play the old card game of Cribbage. Ever hear tell of it before? Well mom, that is all for today, so once again I’ll sign off, but before I do, give my regards to all and I’ll write again soon.
Love and kisses, Everett
CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE.
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Military Humor –
An awkward moment in After Steering.
The Navy’s new terrorist ‘catch & release’ program!
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Farewell Salutes –
Manuel Albuquerque – brn: DOM REP; US Army, MSgt. (ret 21 y.), EOD specialist
Charles F. Blair – Howard County, MD; US Army, Vietnam, helicopter pilot
Dwight “Cee-Born” Curry – East Meadow, NY; US Army, Gulf War
Frank L. Duncan – Toledo, OH; US Army Air Corps/Air Force, WWII, Korea & Vietnam, aircraft rescue & Firefighter, (Ret. 21 y.)
Melvin J. Goldberg – Tom’s River, NJ; US Navy, Medical unit, doctor
Alfred Hammon – Plainfield, NJ; US Merchant Marine, WWII / US Navy, Annapolis Class ’47, Korea, LT.
Timothy Johns – Wayne County, MI; US Army, dental clinic
Richard H. Johnson – Manlius, NY; US Air Force, Vietnam, pilot, DFC & Bronze Star, Lt.Col. (Ret.)
Lyle J. Madison – Silverdale, WA; US Army, Vietnam
Jerry O’Rear Jr. – Anaheim, CA; US Navy, Afghanistan, corpsman
Jerry S. Schafer – Port Townsend, WA; US Navy, Vietnam
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uh, My week went well… Yours?
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Letter IV Still at Sea in a Quandary
Just two days out of San Francisco, CA, the dismal conditions aboard Smitty’s troop ship, heading southwest, took a turn for the worse. The cool weather became stifling hot and humid. The fresh meat and vegetables ran out and Spam sandwich became the lunch cuisine of record.
How to get shut-eye?
The troops learned that dehydrated potatoes, cooked to the consistency of pebbles; powered eggs, unrecognizable except for the color; and hot dogs of no discernible pedigree were to be the standard ‘menu’. Nobody asked for seconds!
powdered eggs
When Smitty and the other troopers passed the equator, as per naval tradition, the ship’s crew donned their apparel of King Neptune and his court in preparation of handing the “Pollywogs” (the soldiers) their certificates of crossing. The Royal Barber tried to cut the hair of the crew-cut troopers and the Royal Executioner paddled a backside with an oar if the receiving line moved too closely to a snail’s pace. (which one can imagine was every G.I. derriere that went by!) Smitty was one to really enjoy this sort of tomfoolery — even if it was with the navy! The water damage you see to Smitty’s certificate (pictured below) is one of the reasons I began to make a facsimile of his scrapbook onto the computer. I have re-typed the contents of the certificate to show the humor involved — despite a war.
equator crossing
IT Read….
To All Sailors, Marines, Whatever Ye Maybe: Greetings: and to all Mermaids, Whales, Sea Serpents, Porpoises, Sharks, Eels, Dolphins, Skates, Suckers, Crabs, Lobsters and all other Living Things of the Sea: Know ye, that on this June 15 ’44 in Latitude 00000 and Longitude Cape Mendacia there appeared within Our Royal Domain the bound Southwestward for the Equator, the South Sea Islands, New Zealand and Australian ports.
BE IT REMEMBERED That the said Vessel and Officers and Crew thereof have been inspected and passed on by Ourselves and Royal Staff: AND BE IT KNOWN By all ye Sailors, Marines, Landlubbers, Soldiers and all others who may be honored by his presence, that Pollywog Everett A. Smith 32816491 Having been found worthy to be numbered as one of our Trusty Shellbacks he has been duly initiated into the SOLEMN MYSTERIES OF THE ANCIENT ORDER OF THE DEEP Be It Further Understood: That by Virtue of the power invested in me I do hereby command all my subjects to show honor and respect to him wherever he may be. Disobey the Order under Penalty of Royal Displeasure. (bottom left) Given under our band and seal this Davey Jones, His Majesty’s Scribe – (bottom right) Neptunus Rex, His Servant – the signature appears to be Gregory Cullen
equator crossing certificate
Smitty’s Letter IV
Letter IV Still at sea in a quandary
Dear Mom, Well, here I am again as promised. Yesterday we had a little something different to sea besides the sea. Notice that I’m getting so that I can only spell the sea when I mean to write see. Early in the morning we had the pleasure of seeing another ship and must say it sure made one feel good. Why it should though I can’t say unless it is the thought that someone else is having it just as tough. Guess there is some truth in the saying, “Misery loves company.” We also had the pleasure of watching some islands in the far off distance. I won’t try to describe them to you, as that would be too much to expect to pass. (Censorship) You will kindly take notice that I used the words “pleasant” and “pleasure,” if I keep that up you might get the idea this is getting to be that kind of voyage. Some amusing things do happen though, such as the boys sleeping out on the deck getting caught in the rain or some clumsy ox slipping and sliding his way along the boat. By the way, I forgot to tell you that we get the regular news everyday in a printed form resembling a newspaper. Also music by record, sounds tinny, but anything out here is good.
You can readily see I haven’t much ambition for writing today, which reminds me Matter of fact, the way I feel right now, I don’t care much whether I do or not.
Well, that is all for today’s report on nothing,
so with all my love, I am your ever obedient son, Everett
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Military (Navy) Humor –
“Well landlubbers, a funny thing happened the first few days aboard our troops ship….”
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Farewell Salutes –
George C. Browning – Englewood, NJ; USMC, WWII, PTO, Pvt. # 472774, KIA (Iwo Jima)
Robert W. Cash – Minneapolis, MN; US Army Air Corps, WWII, PTO, Pvt. # 17025678, 20th Air Base Group, POW, DWC (Cabanatuan Camp # 1, Luzon)
Arthur J. Gregg – Richmond, VA; US Army, Lt. General (Ret. 35 y.)
George H. Grimes – Indianapolis, IN; US Navy, WWII / USMC, Korea, Purple Heart, Vietnam, Lt. Colonel (Ret.)
Bill E. Jacobs – Hiawatha, KS; US Navy, USS Midway
William Jekielek – Niagara Falls, NY; USMC, WWII / US Army, Korea
William D. Mahoney – Templeton, CA; US Army National Guard, Chief Warrant Officer4, Middle East, (Ret.)
Charles McAllister – Seattle, WA; US Army, WWI (this is Not a typo), Pfc., 26/1st Division, KIA (FRA 19 July 1918)
Jerry D. O’Rear Jr. – Anaheim, CA; US Navy, Afghanistan, corpsman
Albert P. Sharpless – Washington D.C.; US Naval Reserve / US Army
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Pacific Paratrooper 