Letters to Wilma will trace the path of a WWII Army doctor from training on Cape Cod, to landing D-Day plus 6 in Normandy, and concluding 1400 miles later in Leipzig, Germany. Greg's path included the Battle of the Bulge and the liberation of the slave labor camp at Nordhausen, with the 438th Anti-Aircraft Artillery Battalion. Wilma became his wife, and I their fourth child.
Excuse the V-mail dear, but I really haven’t taken advantage of it very often, have I? It’s Saturday noon here – my leave is about half over and I haven’t done a darn thing except wander around from restaurant to restaurant – it seems. This p.m. I’m going down to the theater where the Lunts are playing “There Shall Be No Night” – just on the chance I might be able to pick up a ticket. If not – I’ll go down to Mme. Toussard’s Wax Museum – because as yet I haven’t done that.
Gosh, darling – I’m so lonesome for you and it makes me mad to think that when I was home – the longest I ever had to spend with you was a week-end, and here I’m just killing time. It doesn’t make sense – that’s all.
I’ll stop now, Sweetheart and run along because if you don’t get to an eating place just about at noon – you find yourself at the end of the queue and when you finally get in – they’re out of food. Give me the U.S.A. – darling – and you. So long for now – dear, – my thoughts are with you always and you have
It seems like ages since I wrote you last and yet I’ve only missed the past two days. I tried to write yesterday – but I guess I spent most of the day traveling. I am now sitting in my hotel room – using the same old G.I. stationery which I brought along. Hotels in England don’t supply you with writing paper.
Well, darling – I’m on my leave. How much of it I can tell you about while I’m on it – I really don’t know. There’s so many damn angles to censorship – that I think the censors themselves don’t know. At any rate, dear, I left camp Wednesday a.m. and traveled most of the day to get to my destination. I was disappointed when I arrived. In the first place it was very cold and a steady wind blew in from the Atlantic. The place was nothing more than Revere Beach, Mass. might be at this time of year – minus all the amusements. Desolate and bleak – is the only way to describe it and how I got roped into making that trip is beyond me. However – there was no
way of getting back that night – so I stayed over, in a small private hotel – cold and dreary. About the only thing I can say for that day is that I passed through most of England and hit a few spots I hadn’t been to before – e.g. Stratford-on-Avon, Rugby and a couple of other spots.
Anyway, sweetheart, yesterday I got on a train and hot-footed it back to where I can see a little activity. That again – took almost the whole day. The trains just crawl along in this country and some of them stop almost as often as our street-cars. So here I am – checked in at a hotel – I’ve stayed here before – and I’m just going to take it easy. I’m going to try my best to see a couple of plays and perhaps get into Symphony on Sunday – but so far it’s been almost impossible. Beyond that, dear, I have no plans whatsoever, and I suppose that’s the best way to spend a leave. It’s good to be away from Camp and I can understand, I think, why the Army gives leaves more frequently in this theater than at home.
That’s about all the news there is, darling. I hadn’t heard from you for a couple of days when I left camp – and I’m expecting to find a nice set of letters from you – waiting for me. I can’t help but think how nice it would be if you were here with me, dear, just as once before – But there’ll come a day, sweetheart, and that’s what I’m living for. I love you, dear, and that’s all I think about – whether I’m in camp, on the train – or just wandering around. The thought of you never leaves me – and that’s good, isn’t it?
I’ll close now, dearest, and I’ll write again. For now – so long and
Greg was a Battalion Surgeon. Despite the name, most Battalion Surgeons were primary care physicians who practiced emergency medicine, family medicine, pediatrics, or internal medicine rather than performing invasive surgical operations. The term "surgeon" was a holdover from the U.S. Military's British colonial past. The British military used the term "surgeon" to mean a physician attached to a "front line" unit.
The Battalion Surgeon was a special staff officer who advised the Battalion Commander on matters pertaining to the health of the battalion. Chief duties included the responsibilities of managing a Battalion Aid Station, medically supervising other battalion physicians, performing sick call for members of the battalion, and supervising the medical planning for deployment. Battalion Aid Stations, Forward Support Medical Battalions and Forward Surgical Teams were usually the first point of contact for the medical care of wounded soldiers.
Battalion Aid Station in Italy, 1943
The Battalion Aid Station belonged to, and was an organic component of the unit it supported. As such, it was the forward-most medically-staffed treatment location. The primary mission of the Battalion Aid Station was to collect the sick and wounded from the battalion and stabilize the patients' condition. This work was carried out by the Company Aid Men, also called "Combat Medics."
Each Company in a heavy weapons division was assigned three Combat Medics. These men lived with the company and moved with them on every move. They were exposed to enemy fire just the same as an artillery soldier. On many occasions they were exposed to a higher degree than the artillery soldier. The responsibility of the Combat Medic was to locate wounded men, quickly assess the severity of the wound and immediately start the action necessary to relieve the wounded man of pain and suffering. In many instances the Medic had to comfort those soldiers who were more mentally wounded than physical. He and the other soldiers in the company had to work very closely together in retrieving wounded men from precarious situations and subsequent evacuation.
Once a man's wounds had been treated to the extent of the Medic's capabilities, he was removed to the Battalion Aid Station. There, the Battalion Aid Station Doctors could assess the severity of the wound and make a decision as to further evacuation. If the wound was of minor nature, many times it would be cleaned, dressed and the soldier returned to duty. The Medic would normally be aware of that, and, depending upon the tactical situation at hand, follow up with any subsequent care needed.
If the wound warranted more extensive care than that which could be administered at the Battalion Aid Station, the wounded man was tagged, a record made of the time, day, date and extent of the wound and he was evacuated by ambulance to the next echelon in the evacuation process. His company was notified of the evacuation so they could quickly get a replacement for the casualty.
Each Battalion Aid Station worked very closely with the Medical Battalion of the Division, which was responsible for evacuations to the rear of the Battalion Aid Station. Each Regimental Battalion Aid Station had a liaison man from the Medical Battalion of the Division. He kept his unit informed about tactical moves of the Battalion Aid Station and also coordinated the use of ambulances, depending upon the casualty rate the infantry Battalion was experiencing.
The Medical Battalion evacuated the more seriously wounded from a Battalion Aid Station to a Collecting Station, usually safely removed from an exposed front line position. There, further evaluation was made of the wounded man. If further treatment was called for, he was taken farther back to a Clearing Station. Within the Division area of responsibility, the Clearing Station was as far as a casualty would be evacuated. Any further evacuation then became the responsibility of an Army Hospital.
Clearing Station, Utah Beach, 6-7 June 1944 Triage of Casualties
Again, this entire process was started by frontline soldiers receiving a wound by enemy fire. A process of healing and comfort was started immediately by a well trained, unarmed and possibly exposed Combat Medic wearing a Red Cross, carrying some bandages, a syringe of morphine, some sulfanilamide powder and the desire to help a fellow human being in his time of great need.
The chart below shows the movement of wounded through the various Echelons of Evacuation as described above. As can be seen, Battalion Aid Stations provided First Echelon support. Below that is a diagram of the layout of a typical Battalion Aid Station.
CLICK ON CHARTS TO ENLARGE Evacuation Procedure Chart
No letter on 1 March 1944... Just this from 29 February:
[Note from FOURTHCHILD: 1944 was a Leap Year, unlike 2011.]
438th AAA AW BN
APO 527 % Postmaster, N.Y.
England
29 February, 1944 1400
Dearest Sweetheart,
Today is payday so I had to run around a bit this morning. As a result the boys are happy again. It’s funny to see them after they’ve been paid. They start to settle up their accounts with each other; one pays up ₤2, six shillings and collects 18 shillings from someone else and that’s the way it goes. More money changes hands than is passed across the counter of Barclay’s Ltd in a week.
Some of the boys have already taken off for their furlough trips. The enlisted men are getting 7 days also – and the great majority are heading for the western part of England or Scotland – since most everyone has already been to London – and London, some of these nights, isn’t too healthy a spot to be in, anyway. My own leave starts tomorrow, dear, and I’m kind of blue about it. If only I could be with you instead of tramping around the countryside. Well, I always wanted to see England – and I’m getting the chance to. I’ve missed you particularly the past few days, sweetheart – no special reason – just a spell – as you no doubt have had too. Maybe it’s the thought of our being engaged – and my impatience at the time involved. I’m so anxious to hear a reply to my letters of several days ago.
Sunday night and last night I went to the movies. Due to the splendid effort of the Special Service Division – which has a very important job in overseas stations – we have our own projector and can show films in our battalion area. Most of the shows are quite old – but no one seems to mind. Sunday we saw “Petrified Forest” – with Leslie Howard, B. Davis and H. Bogart – the latter in his first “bad-man” role – remember, dear? Last nite we saw “Mr. Smith goes to Wash.” – another oldie, but good – and really although I had seem them both, I actually enjoyed them. Anyway – in each case – they had killed 2 hours – and I didn’t have to travel more than 75 yards to get to see them.
Tomorrow, darling, I won’t be able to write – but if it’s at all feasible, I’ll try to write you from wherever I am. I wouldn’t want you to find a big gap in your mail. However – if there are some spaces, dear, you’ll understand – won’t you?
In the past 3 days I’ve received only one letter from you, dear, and that was a V-mail written Valentine’s Day from Bea’s house. Darling I’m so glad you got the roses and I do hope they were nice. You buy a cat-in-a-bag when you order by mail – and that was the only way. I was curious as to how it would wash out. I sent Penn a check, as I did with Fannie Farmer and wondered what they’d do about it. I explained what I wanted. I was half tempted to send Stan the check and let him handle it for me. As things developed, I’m rather glad I didn’t. Anyway – if it made you the least bit happier, Sweetheart – I’m glad. I just didn’t want you to be forgotten just because I happen to be away.
Well, darling, I’ll say ‘so long’ for now. I’ll probably not write long letters for the next several days but I’ll make up for it, I know. I wish only that you could be with me the next few days – then things would really be all right. I have so many nice things to tell you, darling, – but it will have to wait until I can tell you I person – alone. Until later, dear, you have –
All my love,
Greg
* TIDBIT *
about The Petrified Forest
The Petrified Forest (1936) was directed by Archie Mayo. Here is a summary of the story, as it appears in Wikipedia.
Alan Squier (Howard), once a British intellectual and writer, now a penniless alcoholic drifter, wanders into a roadside diner in the Petrified Forest area in northern Arizona. The diner is run by Jason Maple (Porter Hall), his daughter Gabrielle (Davis), and her grandfather (Charley Grapewin), "an old man who was missed by Billy the Kid."
Alan recounts his European adventures and Gabrielle is instantly smitten with him. Gabrielle's mother, a French war bride who fell in love with Jason when he was a young, handsome American serviceman, left her "dull defeated man" and moved back to France when Gabrielle was a baby. She now sends poetry to Gabrielle, who dreams of moving to Bourges to become an artist. She shows Alan her paintings - the first time she has shown them to anyone - and reads him a favorite Villon poem. Boze Hertzlinger (Dick Foran), Gabrielle's blue-collar boyfriend, grows jealous of Alan, who assures him that he intends to leave forthwith. Alan mooches a ride from wealthy tourists Mr. and Mrs. Chisholm (Paul Harvey and Genevieve Tobin), but before they can depart, Duke Mantee (Bogart), a famous gangster fleeing a massive police pursuit, invades the diner with his gang and takes the entire group hostage.
Everyone is of course terrified, except Alan, who has little to live for. Indifferent to the danger, he engages Duke in lively conversation and toasts him as "the last great apostle of rugged individualism." As the police converge on the restaurant, Duke prepares to flee, announcing that he will bring Mr. and Mrs. Chisholm with him as human shields. Alan has an inspiration: With Gabrielle in another room, he produces a life insurance policy he is carrying with him, and amends it, making Gabrielle the beneficiary. Then he asks Duke to kill him, so that Gabrielle can use the insurance money to make her dream of studying art in France a reality. "It couldn't make any difference to you, Duke. After all, if they catch you, they can hang you only once...Living, I'm worth nothing to her; dead, I can buy her the tallest cathedrals, and golden vineyards, and dancing in the streets."
The police close in; Duke obliges Alan by shooting him. "So long, pal," growls Duke, "I'll be seein' ya soon." He exits, only to be gunned down himself by the waiting posse. Alan dies in Gabrielle's arms, secure in the knowledge that she, alone among the film's principals, will escape her dead-end existence to pursue her dreams.
Today is a nice fresh day for the start of another week. No matter how you look at it – it’s that much closer to my seeing you again. Yesterday was a typically quiet Sunday, with chicken for dinner and reading and napping afterward. More than that – I was even able to listen to an old Jack Benny program at 1900 – but that made me feel quite lonesome so I didn’t enjoy it too much. Later in the evening I read February 7th edition of Time Magazine which came in the mail yesterday.
Oh – one thing I did hear on this radio that interested me – was that new song you mentioned. Saturday afternoon, B.B.C. had a direct hook-up with NBC in New York – and I’ll be darned if they didn’t play and sing that ditty about “Mares eat oats, does eat oats” etc. and then when Time had a write-up on the song, I really felt up to date.
In the next couple of days, darling, I may be going on leave. The orders aren’t out yet – but I asked for March 2nd – 8th, which actually allows me to take off sometime on March 1st. I’ll tell you where I intend going; I believe that’s allowed. I don’t believe once I get there that I can tell you. That’s a funny thing about censorship in the Army, dear. From various fellows I’ve spoken with – there are 2 or 3 popular places that Americans have been visiting on their leaves – one is Edinburgh, another a place called Blackpool – north of Liverpool – and on the coast – but West coast; another is Bournemouth – on the South coast. I’m not considering the latter, for obvious reasons. What I believe I’ll do is pack my bag and head for Blackpool and see what it’s like. If I like it, I’ll stay; if not I’ll head for Edinburgh. But at any rate, I’ll be under no obligations to anyone – so I’ll just wander along and see the sights. It will probably be expensive – but what the heck, darling, during some part of this war I’m sure I won’t be able to spend any money, so I might as well now. The point is – that I’m not particularly in need of a Leave – but if I don’t take it, I merely lose it. That’s why everyone is taking his in turn.
Anyway – I’ll keep in touch with you from wherever I go – probably by V-mail – and assuming there’s an Army post office around. After I return – I’ll be able to tell you exactly where I was.
Darling – the new moon was beautiful and clear last night. It made me think of other moonlit nights – when we were together. There were no bright stars near it – as there were the night you wrote about recently. And no stars near it – either – that could be potential planets. Darling – all you had to say was that a planet named so and so was near the moon – and I wouldn’t have even known the difference – but would have thought “How clever!” You really missed the boat. On the other hand – I’d rather have you honest –
I haven’t heard from Stan in several weeks now – which is unusual for him. I wonder why? He always used to keep me posted on what he was doing – in his work, and in his social life. Somehow, dear, when he does write, I don’t think I’ll be able to believe him – anyway.
Well – Sweetheart – you noticed perhaps that I started writing rather early today. It was because the opportunity presented itself. The boys are starting to come in now for sick call – so I’m going to stop. I hope to hear from you today, darling. I didn’t hear yesterday, and for me too – it makes it a very empty day when I don’t. I’d love so much to be able to talk with you for just a few moments, or to hold your hand. It would help the next months be more tolerable. But I’m depending on your letters dearest, to do that for me – and so far they have. I love you, dear and I love to hear from you. I’m waiting anxiously to hear of recent developments. Maybe we’ll actually be engaged before long. Boy – won’t that be something! Hold on, Sister! So long for now darling and
All my love
Greg
Best regards home
Love
G.
* TIDBIT *
about The Hollywood Canteen and The Jack Benny Show aired 27 February, 1944
The Hollywood Canteen, created by film actors Bette Davis and John Garfield, along with MCA president Jules Stein, was a place where the Hollywood stars fed and entertained United States servicemen, as well as servicemen from allied countries, during World War II. From 1942 until Thanksgiving 1945, servicemen who ventured into Hollywood for a night out could gain access to the Canteen if they were in uniform. Everything was free of charge.
The Andrew Sisters, Jimmy Durante, James Cagney, Betty Hutton, Danny Kaye, Shirley Temple, Ruby Keeler, Ronald Reagan, Dorothy Lamour, Dana Andrews, you name it - if you were a big Hollywood star you volunteered at the Hollywood Canteen. Some served food, others sang and danced, the comedians cracked jokes - the actresses even danced with the servicemen. The one millionth guest to visit the Hollywood Canteen was lucky enough to receive a kiss from Betty Grable! On one night, at the nearby corner of Sunset and Wilcox, a tent was set up where Orson Welles performed magic tricks. One of the tricks was sawing his wife Rita Hayworth in half!
CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE
Marlene Dietrich and Rita Hayworth Serve Coffee
But it wasn't just the stars that volunteered at the Hollywood Canteen. Producers, writers, technicians, costumers, agents, assistants, publicists and many others who worked in Hollywood volunteered as well. Even the murals painted inside the Canteen were the volunteered work of some of Hollywood's cartoonists.
Some of my men have just left for church and it’s reasonably quiet right now. Again there’s just the faintest touch of Spring already in the air – and I’m willing to wager, dear, that Spring here in England will really be hard to take – if everything the poets have said about it comes true.
Yesterday, darling, I got some bad news – not from home or you – but from right here in England. We have, or the Red Cross has a system of traveling Clubmobiles, so-called which travel over the countryside stopping at certain spots to give the soldiers some hot coffee and American type doughnuts. Well one of them hit us yesterday for the first time. I was getting my share – out on the road where they stopped and was talking with another officer. One of the Red Cross workers yelled out from the truck and asked if I were from Boston; she thought I sounded as if I were. I said ‘yes’ and ‘why’. She asked me if I knew a fellow from Boston named Zetlan. Well, dear, that’s a rather odd name and I knew she must be referring to Maurice Zetlan – Al’s younger brother – who I knew – was a Bombardier here – in a Fort. So I told her the fellow I knew was actually from Salem and she said that I was right and added that he had a brother named Al. I was then sure we were talking about the same fellow. The crux of the story, darling, is that he was killed about 3 weeks ago when his plane crashed during a take off for a bombing raid. I can tell you this because the death has been published. Well I was stunned. It seemed that she met him a few months ago and got to know him really well. He was a swell fellow, very nice looking and from what I heard – a helluva good bombardier. It must have been a terrific blow to Al and Lil because they were very fond and proud of him. Their mother and father died within the past 3-4 years and the boys were very close to each other. I felt rotten all day and realized I had to write. I had written Lil only a few days before in answer to her letter that all was well at home. Honestly, dear, it was one of the most difficult letters I’ve ever had to write. The only solace I was able to give them was the fact that I knew where he’s buried and if possible I promised to go to his grave and say a prayer or something.
Well, Sweetheart, I didn’t want to write you about it – but I promised to tell you everything that goes on – and I thought you ought to know about this – having met Lil and Al.
Darling I well remember that night at the Copley when you acted so “forward”. Are you squirming, dear? I will never let you think you proposed to me, though, because actually, you didn’t. What you did do – was to hint that something like that from me wouldn’t entirely find a deaf ear. And I was thrilled at the thought. When I actually told you I loved you – I honestly don’t know myself. I know I felt like telling you very early – but I was unaccustomed to talking or sounding like that – and it was difficult for me to say the words. Darling – you sure did change me a lot – in that respect.
Concerning Leap year and your authority – Miss Rogers – all I can say is Phooey!! Anyway – our status is settled and you don’t have to ask me. I won’t have it anyway! If I want to marry someone – I want to do the asking, for if anything – I wouldn’t want my wife throwing the fact that she proposed – up to me. Now – let’s get it straight right now, sweetheart: I am asking you to marry me – the very first chance we get. I hope, darling, that I’m making it very very clear.
In closing, darling – I will criticize a recent artistic attempt on your part, to wit, an angel? with a harp. I’ll excuse the shape of the harp, but Sweetheart – the angel looks at least 2-3 months pregnant! Nuff Sed!!
So long – dearest, I love you very very hard and make no mistake about it. Will you marry me?
All my deepest love –
Greg
Regards to everyone
Love
G.
* TIDBIT *
about the Loss of Maurice G. Zetlan
2nd Lieutenant Maurice G. Zetlan
Maurice Zetlan usually flew with the crew of "HANG THE EXPENSE", below:
CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE
"HANG THE EXPENSE" with both her Flight and Ground Crews (left to right) Standing: John (NMI) Mytko, John R. (Dick) Johnson, Frank E. Valesh, Maurice G. Zetlan, John E. Booth, Paul J. Carbone, Sherman M. Nelson Kneeling: Nels O. Davidson, Lloyd M. Holland, Louis (NMI) Black, Jr., Roy (NMI) Urich, Herschel H. Broyles, J. Sambrailo, Ernest M. Jordan, Harold C. Wildrick (The Crew Chief)
But on Monday, 24 January, 1944, according to John R. (Dick) Johnson, Zetlan had asked off the crew for personal reasons and this day was flying with A.O. "Four Mile" Drummond on an aircraft named "SKIPPER".
That day, at 7 am, both "HANG THE EXPENSE" and "SKIPPER", B-17s of the 100th Bomb Group, (known as the bloody hundredth, for the losses they suffered during the war) took off from their base at Thorpe Abbotts, near Dickleburgh, Norfolk. They set out to bomb a metal works at Frankfurt. They were part of a large formation of aircraft from many USAAF bases in the area. Due to bad weather the planes were recalled while over France.
"SKIPPER" (42-3307), of 351 Squadron, did not get as far as France. The pilot, Arch Drummond, was one of the group's more experienced pilots. As the B-17F withdrew its undercarriage in the semi-darkness, the crew kept a wary eye out for other bombers, as aircraft level with them and above were difficult to see. "SKIPPER" continued climbing straight ahead. At 700 feet, Arch, and his co-pilot Claude E. Schindler were horrified to see the lights of another aircraft, a B-24, coming across their path. The captain flashed his powerful landing lights to warn the approaching aircraft to keep out of their airspace. The plane did not alter its course. To avoid a collision, the bomber dived steeply and banked right. The pilot then tried to level out, but hit the left wing on a barn, at High London Farm Shelfanger, Norfolk, about 7 miles from Thorpe Abbotts.
"Skipper" before a flight and after crash and loss of Zetlan
The impact ruptured a fuel tank and the B-17 caught fire. The aircraft then crashed through a group of trees, and came to halt in a meadow, approximately 300 yards from the farm, with debris strewn everywhere. During the initial impact, Maurice Zetlan was thrown through the front nose, apparently breaking his neck. He died instantly. When the plane came to a standstill the rest of the crew quickly left the burning aircraft, aware "SKIPPER" was loaded with highly inflammable incendiaries. First at the scene was Farmer David Drummond of Old Boyland Hall Farm, Bressingham. He found the other 9 airmen suffering from shock, sheltering by a haystack .
The Crew of the B-17 Flying Fortress "SKIPPER" were:
Lt. Arch J. Drummond (pilot) - slightly injured
Lt. Claude E. Sdchindler (co-pilot) - slightly injured
Lt. Frank J. McGuire (navigator) - injured with burns
Lt. Maurice G. Zetlan (bombardier) - killed
Tech. Sgt. Sidney A. Cary (top turett gunner) - injured
Tech. Sgt Talbert E. Spenoff (radio operator) - injured
S/Sgt. John R. Pendleton (gunner) - injured
Sgt. Steven M. Szekely (gunner) - injured
S/Sgt. Guthrie H. Head (right waist gunner) - injured
S/Sgt. Nicholas Perovich (tail gunner) - injured
Maurice's usual aircraft and crew also met with difficulty that day. On their January 24, 1944 Frankfurt mission, Roy Urich was blown out of the tail section of "HANG THE EXPENSE". Urich, to everyone's surprise survived and became a POW. Legend has it the 100th crews saw Roy hurling through the formation still in his seat with his guns still firing. Dick Johnson recalled it this way:
We were recalled shortly before reaching the target and bombed a power plant as a target of opportunity. It was supposedly near Zukunft but I cannot verify this as my log for this mission was not returned to me.
It was a slow go home as we were bucking a very strong head wind. For reasons I will never understand the lead aircraft took us directly over an airfield near Ostend. I called Frank and he called the leader. All he got for his pains was a call to shut up by Magee Fuller. We were sitting ducks at 12,000 feet and a ground speed of about 95 knots courtesy of that head wind. I actually saw the guns go off on the ground (There were four distinct flashes) and a few seconds later there was one hellava jolt. I can still hear Paul Carbone calling on the interphone to say "Roy's gone!" The aircraft nosed up sharply and Frank, fearing a stall and a spin, gave the order to standby to bail out. However, he snapped on the AFCE (automatic pilot) and found he had elevator control by these means. This enabled him to bring the bird back under control and he told us to stick around.
There was no rudder control at all and the elevators answered only to the AFCE. Only the ailerons answered to the stick. Once things were under control Frank called "Mayday" on the emergency channel and two P-47's were right there. I plotted the shortest route to the English coast and Eastchurch was the first airfield we saw. The air sea rescue pilots kept urging us to jump but once they saw we were committed to land they buzzed the field to keep it clear for us. Frank offered us the chance to jump but all hands elected to stay with the aircraft. We did, however, take the precaution of assuming ditching stations during the actual landing. It proved to be an unnecessary precaution as Frank and John combined to grease that thing in.
I cannot remember how we got back to Thorpe Abbotts but we probably had to take the train. We also probably had hangovers as the RAF at Eastchurch were generous with their whisky. By the time we did get back the lead crew had been sent on a 7 day flak leave and we were kept twiddling our thumbs. Just before they were due back we were sent on a similar leave. This kept us apart for almost two weeks which was probably good thinking on the part of the brass as it just may have prevented bloodshed. I guess I have never fully forgiven them in my heart and I'm still sore that Valesh and Booth did not get a medal for bringing that airplane home.
Here is a picture of the tail after "HAND THE EXPENSE" returned to England and landed at East Church fighter base.
It’s kind of damp and raw here today – but maybe it’s nice in Newton now. Anyway it’s another Saturday morning and they sure are rolling by.
Yesterday, darling, I wrote you about inspecting officers, etc. There’s only one thing more irritating than getting ready for inspections – and that is getting ready and not having the inspectors show up. That’s what happened yesterday and my boys were pretty angry about it because they really work hard getting ready for one. Yesterday, too, I didn’t get any mail from you dear, but that was the first day in some while that I’ve missed.
I’ve just re-read a letter of yours from early February in which you mention some dizzy song about horses eating oats – or something. No dear – we haven’t heard it here at all. As a matter of fact the current rage, for some reason or other, is still “If I Had my Way etc.”. Some orchestras have started playing “They’re Either Too Young etc.” recently but no one here has even heard of “People Will Say We’re in Love” which I imagine must be well on its way out at home. They really don’t have a decent band here at all – from those I hear on the radio, anyway. They never seem to loosen up at all. It was a pleasure the other morning to hear a re-broadcast half-hour program with T. Dorsey and company. He really gave out with “The One O’Clock etc.” and an oldie “And the Angels Sing”. It was in the morning and during sick call at the Dispensary where we have a radio. I had to stop what I was doing just long enough to prance about a little.
Oh incidentally – I don’t think you’ll have trouble with my women patients. They were nice to me, Sweetheart, but don’t forget, I was single and some of them must have had their motherly instinct aroused in them. (heh! heh!) When I’m married, dear, I think it will make a great deal of difference – and besides, you summed it up when you said you could trust me. I love you, darling, and how could I be interested in other women, let alone my patients?
Darling I found amusing your statement that you played cribbage with yourself. That must have been something to watch. Did you cheat very much? I accept any challenge regardless of how many tricks you have learned, dear.
I’m picking up some of the loose threads from a few of your letters of the past 10 days or so. You mention having seen “Berkeley Square.” I can’t really remember whether I read it or saw it – or what. I can say this though, darling – I’ve been to Berkeley Square and can’t see why they’ve written plays about it or written songs, either. That one about the ‘Nightingale Sings in Berkeley Sq’ is really silly – after you’ve seen the place. I suppose though that in each case there’s some hidden significance.
I’m glad, sweetheart, that you’re doing a little reading. It’s awfully easy to get out of the habit and also very easy to start reading worthless books. I know that in past years I was guilty of the former. I’ve caught up a little since I’ve been in the Army – whenever I can get a hold of a book. The last one – I mentioned – “Oliver Wiswell’ – by Kenneth Roberts. Darling I wish you’d get hold of that book and read it. It was wonderfully done, it’s about New England, mentions Milton, Boston, Dorchester, Salem often, has a lovely love theme running throughout it – and scattered discussions about war and what it does to people – that is really excellent. Read it – because it involves a fellow away at war – from the girl he loves. She lives in Milton, by the way – and that isn’t too far from Newton Every time the author mentioned her – I could think only of you. I’m certain you’ll enjoy the book.
Well – today’s letter, sweetheart, brought in a lot of disconnected thoughts – but no matter how you look at it, darling, they all add up to the fact that I love you very much and miss you more than I can possibly let you know. We’re going to have so many things to discuss when I get back and marry you – that I’m positive we can never have a dull moment. So long for now – dearest. I’ll write again tomorrow. Until then – you have
All my love
Greg.
Regards to the folks
Love
G.
* TIDBIT *
about Some Songs Mentioned in this Letter
"Dizzy song about horses eating oats - or something" Mares eat Oats (1944)
By Milton Drake, Al Hoffman and Jerry Livingston in 1943
Performed by Pied Pipers
"No one has ever heard of..." People Will Say We're in Love(1944)
By Rodgers and Hammerstein for the musical "Oklahoma!" in 1943
Performed by: Frank Sinatra
"Had to stop what I was doing... to prance around a little bit" One O'Clock Jump (1942)
By Count Basie 1937
Performed by: Count Basie and His Orchestra
