11th Month, 11th Day, 11th Hour

World War I, aka The Great War, began in 1914, between the European powers. American got into the war in 1917 after German U-Boats started attacking our merchant marines. So for the first three years of the War to End All Wars, so-named by Woodrow Wilson, the United States was neutral. By the time we got "Over There" France, England, Germany, Italy, Turkey, etc had already lost millions of soldiers to the war, a brutal affair where the military command was still fighting in the warfare style of the 18th and 19th centuries against 20th century weaponry, a fact that forced armies to seek cover down inside elaborate trenches. It was a bloodbath.

It didn't take long before America began to rack up casualties too, losing in about eighteen months more men than a decade of fighting in Vietnam would years later. Germany had thrown all it had at the war effort, men and materiel. On November 11, 1918, at 11 o'clock in the morning, the antagonists signed an armistice, or a ceasefire. For the next 36 years, we commemorated November 11 as Armistice Day, and in some places, Remembrance Day. Armistice Day was what my parents told me it was called when they were growing up. After World War II came and went, the veterans from that war thought they deserved a day of commemoration too for their great sacrifices, and in 1954, Congress changed the name of the national holiday to Veteran's Day. 

But what does it mean now? Where I live there isn't even a Veteran's Day parade anymore, like the ones I remember as a child living in Corpus Christi. My family is full of veterans, mostly from WWII. Almost all the men I knew growing up, family and family friends, had served in some capacity in that war: my dad, my grandfather, several uncles, close family friends, even some of the women enlisted in various causes, and those that didn't still did SOMETHING, like taking old tin pots to a collection area to have them melted down for ammunition. Everyone gave up things to help the troops. People were issued ration books for groceries and blackout curtains were hung over windows. My mom told me about a U-Boat scare in Corpus Christi Bay when she was a girl, and the air raid sirens that would sound as drills. Her high school yearbook is filled with pictures of men in Navy uniforms, classmates or enlisted seaman from the Naval Air Station nearby. 

It was nothing, even when I was a child, to see men with empty sleeves, or on crutches or in wheelchairs from limbs lost. My dad's closest friend was a double amputee who had been shelled in a foxhole during the Battle of Hürtgen Forest, the precursor of the more famous Battle of the Bulge. Another good friend of Daddy's had been hit by fire during the amphibious landings in the Bay of Salerno during the Invasion of Italy. My grandfather drove landing craft in the South Pacific at Leyte Gulf, and during that battle prayed to God that if He would see him through he would hand over his life. Shortly after he got home, my grandfather went into the ministry and became a Baptist preacher for the rest of his life.

The children of those 16-million veterans, my generation, were steeped in World War II. It was absorbed into us without having to be mentioned. It just lingered, everywhere around us, even in the row-house neighborhoods built for all those veterans and their new families. The kids played World War II in the streets, interspersed with Cowboys and Indians, of course. We knew how to make the sounds of ack-ack gunfire, and machine-guns, and bombs falling. A kid down the street could mimic perfectly a trench mortar letting off a round, so we even had a bit of the First World War thrown into our WWII street battles. I supposed kids are still playing war but doing it on the computer screens now, with realistic gore and trauma. Somehow it doesn't feel the same. 

I sometimes wonder what in the world my dad, and all those long-gone veterans would think about the so-called division in our country now, or the January 6th insurrection. The last time he flew in a plane was to his squadron reunion in 2003. He got pulled out of the security line and wanded, all over his body until they located the problem: a roll of Tums in its foil wrapping inside his shirt pocket. Daddy looked the TSA agent in the face, and with a disappointed smile on his face, said, "I served in World War II. You think I'm a terrorist?" He was so insulted by the episode he never took a plane anywhere again. 

In the 1970s, I married a man who enlisted in the US Air Force. The salary for an E-2, his rank just after Basic Training, was so low, we not only qualified for Section 8 housing, but also for Food Stamps, known now as SNAP. After he got out we found a little house we wanted to buy, and since he qualified for a VA loan, our down-payment was only a single dollar bill. I remember watching the mortgage banker paperclip that dollar bill to our loan application, happy to be so lucky.

So let's celebrate and honor our veterans, but let's also continue to fund and support the GI Bill, which we have not always done readily. Let's give them the highest quality health care available instead of always skimping on that, even closing down military hospitals so veterans who are unable to travel long distances end up shut-out of the system. Let's provide mental health rehabilitation so they don't feel compelled to seek anti-government militia groups for camaraderie. It's too easy these days to forget about our veterans who may have been traumatized by the realities of modern-day guerrilla warfare. Let's provide enlisted service men and women with skills they can use once they're out of the military so they can continue to contribute their patriotism and their sense of duty and fairplay to American society. And for God's sake, let's stop using them as pawns in the game of political gotcha, or slapping magnetic signs on our cars that say "I support the military," a brag that has just become another meaningless slogan. 

Happy Veteran's Day, America. Fly your flag!

Onward...

Found My Dad's WWII Diary, Oct 1943 - Jan. 1945

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I have been wanting to put this up for relatives and friends to read if they so desire. This was written by hand in a tiny leather-bound tablet. GI's in WWII were really not supposed to keep a diary, but Daddy did anyway. I have typed it here just as it was written in the tablet. It is kind of long, but hope someone will find it interesting.

_________________

Sidi Ahamed, Africa

Bari, Italy

Gioia del Colle, Italy

            Having joined the Army Air Forces, October 28, 1942, and after training in San Antonio and Albuquerque, New Mexico, leaving the United States August 21, 1943, and now beginning this record October 1, 1943, I arrived in North Africa Sept. 4, 1943, and now beginning this record October 1, 1943, my nineteenth birthday:

Bizerte:

Fri. Oct. 1, 1943

           

The boys in the tent gave me 3 pks cigarettes, my only present. I played chuck buck & poker. Both games combined, I won about 7 bucks. I sent a postal money order to Mama, this 200 francs ($40). My day off is next Mon. Got a V-mail from Mama dated Sept. 16, ‘43.

Sat. Oct., 2, 1943

            Got up at 6 AM. Felt kind of sick all day. Got a V-mail from Mama dated 18th Sept. 43. Also a cable gram dated 24th Sept. Lost a buck & a half in a chuck-o-buck game and poker. Have guard tonite from 2 till 6 AM. Typed up Mama a V-mail and sent it.

Sun. Oct. 3, 1943

Stood guard this AM, sleepy as hell this morning. Wrote a letter to Willie this afternoon. Rumor has it that we will move soon. I have tomorrow off. I am going to Tunis soon. The name of this place is Sidi Ahamed. It’s 5 miles from Bizerte.

Mon. Oct. 4, 1943

Didn’t go to Tunis, felt bad. Had to get up early this morn to go to the latrine. Got a V-mail today date Sept. 20, 43. Got my first Caller-Times dated Sept. 22nd 43. Wrote Mama a V-mail tonite. Saw a show tonite but I had seen it before.

Tues. Oct. 5, 1943

Didn’t get any mail today. Looks as if we’ll be pulling out soon. HQ Sq. pulled out by plane this afternoon, don’t know where to, but I guess we’ll go to the same place.

Wed. Oct. 6, 1943

Wrote Mama a letter tonight but dated it the 7th. Got 2 V-mails, 1 written 21st & the other 22 Sept. 43. Saw a B-26 run off the runway today about 2 PM. Kind of mashed up. That made 2 B-26s in less than a hour that cracked up. Changed jobs today, took Tennessee’s place. PX day. Ate my 1st Baby Ruth in over 6 weeks. Had 2 shots today, small pox & typhoid. Thought I lost 100 Francs in PX line.

Fri. Oct. 29, 1943

Supply & HQ are in Italy. True love. Zillmer & I went to Tunis. Sure is nasty. We went off the alert. We got quite a stay here. We have a floor in our tent now. Built it last May. Still working for Clark. Got 3 V-mails today. All from Mama, dated 14, 16, & 17th Oct. 43. Yesterday had 2nds at PX. Wrote & mailed Jessie’s letter for the 2nd time this afternoon. Wrote Mama a letter this PM and will mail tomorrow. Hope we get paid Sunday. Rained like hell during chow. Thundering & lightning now. Muddy as hell outside.

Mon. Nov. 8, 1943

This is the worst day we have had since being in North Africa. Rains off and on & the winds blowing like hell. I got a letter from Mom dated the 14th Sept. & one from Dorothy Hoskins dated the 21st of Oct. In Mama’s letter there was a silver bracelet, I am very happy.

Thurs. Nov. 11, 1943

Send home 20 bucks this morning. 2 V-mails from Mama. I Air Mail from Sis. Mailed a letter to Ruby Lee Pair. Sea Hawk showed in the Mess Hall tonite.

Sun. Nov. 14, 1943

Everybody has today off. Had fried chicken for dinner today. My first in a hell of a long time. Washed up my socks and white stuff. No mail in several days. The Fighting 69th was on Fri. nite and Perry of the Planes was on last nite. Today was a dam nice day. Guess I have to read the Stars & Stripes, it just came in. Took in 3 pictures today. Saw “I Dood It” at the Mess Tent.

Tues. Nov. 16, 1943

I am guard tonite. 1st relief. 6 till 10. Still no mail since the 11th. Took a shot last nite. Also signed the payroll. Some more of the boys left today in the 17.

Wed. Nov. 17, 1943

Clark made Tech today. I guess he’ll be hard to get along with. It doesn’t look I’ll even made anything. Saw a show in the Mess Tent. No mail today. Said it has been going to Italy. PX Day today. My first Baby Ruth in weeks. Got 4 pks of good cigs for a change. Zillner on guard, 2nd relief.

Thurs. Nov. 18, 1943

Still no mail. Made office bigger. Got 2 more pks cigs & another pk of gum from PX today. Saw Virginia City in the Mess Tent.

Wed. Nov. 24, 1943

Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. 21 turkeys. Got 3 letters yesterday and 3 tonite. Changed jobs yesterday, am back with ??? place. Went to the show last and tonite in the Mess Tent. It’s rumored President Roosevelt was in Tunis & Oran with some high German official. Some of the boys say they saw him in both places. This has been going around for a week now.

Tues. Nov. 25, 1943

Today is Thanksgiving. For dinner we had turkey, dressing, cranberries, gravy, peas, corn, beans, butter (real), candy, cake, pie, coffee, and an orange. They gave us a pk of cigs, box of candy, cigar. No mail at noon.

Tues. Nov. 30, 1943

I got some mail in the eve of the 25th. We quit work in the shop Fri. We moved out of our grounds where we had been camped since Sept. 9. Last Sun, at about 1 PM, went on board a LCT at the naval base in Bizerte lake. Stayed on the Ship in dock from Sun. eve till Tues. morn (today). We are going to Italy. Somewhere in the step of the boot, I think. This kind of craft is quite rough. I may get seasick. I hope I saw N Africa today for the last time. I believe we will end up in Bari Italy.

Wed. Dec. 7, 1943

The sea was kind of rough all day. The Island of Malta was on the starboard side all day. Felt kind of bad late this eve, but didn’t heave.

Thurs. Dec. 2, 1943

When we awoke this morn both Sicily & the Toe of Italy were on the port side a long way off. 10 o’clock now and the Toe is visible. There is a rather high mountain to be seen, looks pretty. The sea is OK this morning.

Sun Dec. 5, 1943

We are now at Bari, Italy. We got to Taranto, Italy on the 3rd, but we didn’t get off the boat till yesterday, the 4th, 3 months to the day that we got to N Africa. We came from Taranto to  Bari by truck. We got here yesterday eve. They had a big raid on the 2nd. Glass was in piles all over town. We had an alert yesterday eve late, but nothing came of it. We could get one tonite, the moon is right.

Bari, Dec 13, 1943 (Mon.)

Had an air raid tonite about 6:30. A lot of flares were dropped. A few fell in our area. We also had a raid on the 10th. We have had several alerts since getting to Bari on the 5th of Dec. They had a big raid Fri. the 3rd before we got here. 15 ships were sunk. An ammunition ship blew up. ???? says he feels as if the planes will be back tonite. (To hell with the bombs, I am going to bed.)

Gioia, Jan 2, 1944

We moved here from Bari, Dec 19, 1943. We have been living in barracks ever since we got here. We moved to a new set last week. We have had no air raids or alerts since moving here. The town is about a half mile walk north of the air drome.

Gioia del Colle, Mon. Jan 24, 1944

Today was my first day off. Went to town. Remember the 2nd 11th of Jan. They say I am going in Cpl the 1st of Feb. Hope I make it for Mama’s sake. The bomb group moved in last week. There’s a chance of a raid again now. The weather sure has been nice here for the past 2 weeks.

Wed. Feb. 9, 1944

2 days ago we had a nice snow. Last  nite I got a fountain pen from Sis & Ray. A Parker.

Wed. Feb. 17, 1944

It snowed pretty heavy this morning. It was all gone by this afternoon. Got a V-mail from Willie Schumacher last nite. Somewhere in England. I was counting on him coming here.

Sun Feb. 20, 1944

Went on guard last nite at 10 PM and got off at 2 AM this morning. Caught a cold during this shift. Had guard from 8 till 10 AM and from 2 till 4 PM. Feeling kind of bad this eve. Went to church tonite in the Mess Hall. Heard somebody from the office was up for a rating. Rumor has it we’re going home soon.

Feb. 21, 1944

Went back to work today. Still have my cold. 6 months ago today we left New York City and the States. The ground is kind of muddy yet. Wrote Sis and Ray a letter. Tomorrow is off from work for me. Bought a pistol last night, 16 bucks. Let a guy take it over to the 88th.

Gioia del Colle, Feb. 23, 1944

I was off today. Slept late. Got my fountain pen back from Mama. Think we will be leaving here soon.

Mon. Feb. 28, 1944

We have been restricted to the camp since last Fri. Fleas. Got a shave today, also a hair cut. I feel sick dam it. I bumped into the same wall twice last week, one nite after the other. I had a headache this afternoon.

Sun, 5 Mar 44

On guard today.

Tues. 21 Mar 44

On guard.

Fri. 24 Mar 44

The ground was white this morning. It also snowed yesterday morning.

Tues. 28 Mar 44

It snowed just a nice bit this morning. High wind for the last 2 days and cold as hell. It rained mud last week from Mount Vesuvius. The ash is still falling but it’s not so bad now. The ground is a hell of a lot blacker. Went to the show in Gioia tonite. Bob Hope in “They Got Me Covered.” Got a new DSN today 405. Typist Clerk.

Sun Apr 2, 1944

Took a roll of film today.

Sun Apr 9, 1944

Was on guard yesterday. Had my first cake since being overseas. Got our Bronze Star today.

Wed April 12, 1944

Early this morning 12:15 am, we had an air alert. I guess what I hear is true. The Jerries are trying to get this field. They have moved in AA guns, installed air raid sirens, and you now have to wear your steel helmets on guard. They even spread out the ships tonite. Yep, looks as if we might have a little trouble around here.

Thurs. April 13, 1944

A big list of ratings came out this morn. No use lying. I thought sure as hell I’d be on it. I know I was up for Cpl. My buddy Tus made Sg tho.

Sun Apr 23, 1944

Just got off guard this afternoon, tired & sleepy as hell. I understand we won’t have Sundays off anymore. From now on we go to the rest camp 3 days every 6 weeks. I guess the bomb group being here has something to do with that.

Sun April 30, 1944

This morning about 5:00 o’clock, the 464th Bomb Group left this field for their first mission, somewhere in Europe. On the way to the target, they encountered no opposition what so ever. When they returned in the afternoon, not a bomb had been dropped. What happened is not so clear to me, but the account I got was something like this: As the formation began the bomb run, the leader developed a leak in his oxygen system and failed to release his bombs. The rest, as they saw no bombs fall, did not drop theirs either. As they swung out on the run, and over the harbor, there were two ships below, yet still no eggs were laid. They then came home and didn’t run into any flak on the whole trip. Someone sure got an eating out, I heard. I have seen two Bomb Groups come and go at this field and both got took down a notch or two.

Tues. May 2, 1944

This morning about eight, 39 bombers went out. There seemed to have been another ball up somewhere. Only half the planes dropped their bombs. One forgot to open his bomb bay. From this raid, two aircraft are missing.

Mon. May 8, 1944

Had an alert at noon today and also tonite at 10:30. Must have been some Jerry planes over Bari.

Wed, May 10, 1944

On guard today, 2nd relief.

Thurs. May 11, 1944

This eve, during chow, we had an alert & had to get our helmet, gas mask, and gun. The planes were said to be 30 miles away. However, they didn’t come over. I guess they got stopped.

Mon. May 15, 1944

They shot down 2 planes -- last Thursday. I just heard today.

Thurs. May 18, 1944

PX tonite. Serviced planes last nite till midnite. They went on another raid this morning. None missing.

Tues. May 30, 1944

A little fireworks over Bari last nite. Had an alert here.

Sun. June 4, 1944

Went on a little trip this morning, a sort of sightseeing. Went to Naci, Putignans, Castellana, Monopoli, Polignans, and Bari, and home to Gioia.

Tues. June 6, 1944

Early this morning about 8, heard the long awaited day had come. We are doing well in Italy. One of our officers sighted the largest convoy he’d ever seen while flying from Africa to Italy. They will invade from Italy to France someplace.

10:50 PM Sat June 17, 1944

There are a lot of lights, spot lights over Bari right now and some flashes. Maybe they are having a raid.

Tues. June 27, 1944

Dam if I don’t think I am going crazy. Time sure is getting heavy on me. Just the same old thing day in and day out. Maybe I can make it. I just wonder when they are going to invade in Northern Italy behind the Germans.

Sat. 22 July 1944

Two days ago, 3 Germans escaped from the stockade and they were caught in the 88th area. That was last Wed. I had to stand guard from 12 till 3 AM Thurs. morning. Yesterday, Fri. about 1:15 PM the Mess Hall caught fire. While the fire was being put out, an air raid alert sounded. About 15 minutes later the all clear sounded and the fire was put out. This afternoon at 4:30 a plane just returning from a combat mission with one engine feathered, crash landed. No one was hurt too bad but the ship is a job for the salvage crew. Yesterday, 11 months ago, we left New York.

Sun 24 Sept. 44

Went to Bari yesterday to see the stage play, “The Barretts of Wimpole Street.” Didn’t see all of it because we had a seat in the back of the theater and couldn’t hear what was being said; that was yesterday. This morning Siebs and I went to the “Green House.” This afternoon General Beverly gave Col Seid the Bronze Star. He said we had received 800 planes, transit planes, and serviced them. The Col said we would be here at Gioia for the next nine months. We should leave this spot by June of 1945.

Tues. Sept. 26, 1944

Winter and the rainy season have already set in. Coldest this morning than it’s been all year.  Had big rain yesterday at noon. Looks like rain now. It did rain.

Fri. Sept. 29, 1944

Rain....

Sat. Sept. 20, 1944

Rain.

Sun. Oct. 1, 1944

Rain. Today is my birthday just like any other day. It rained all day. Changed to ODs today.

Wed. Oct. 18, 1944

On Sun Oct. 15 went on pass down to the Toe of Italy to Cosenza. Arrived there 5:30 PM Sun evening. Stayed Mon., Tues., and left Wed 18 Oct. at 9:30 AM for Gioia. Arrived at Gioia at 2:15 PM Oct. 18, 44. Cosenza is 150 miles away. Had a very nice time.

Fri. Oct. 20, 1944

Rained all last nite and today at noon it is a little cooler than yesterday. To feel good outside, one must wear a coat.

Fri. Oct. 27, 1944

Seibs and I rented the room in town tonite. Two rooms, 20 bucks a month. The no. is 90 on the Taranto Hiway.

Tues. Oct. 31, 1944

Paid up rent of month of Nov. tonite.

Thurs. Dec 21, 1946

Returned from San Spirito Rest Camp this afternoon about 3:30 PM. Seibs, Halbert, and I left for Rest Camp last Sat morn 16 Dec at 9:00 in the morning. While we were there we rented bicycles. Halbert fell and cut his nose, had to have two stitches taken in his nose. Also went up to Molfetta third day we were there. Got the best I’ve had in Italy Tues. at Biniti right across the hiway from the Rest Camp.

Thurs. 28 Dec 44

Ice this morning.

Fri. 29 Dec 44

Ice this morning, too.

Mon. January 1, 1945

Stayed  up until midnite last nite to see the New Year in. Got just a little tight. There was a little fight in the club at about 12:30 AM. When I went to bed it was snowing. When I awoke the ground was white. The snow was almost gone by dark tonite. It is snowing outside now, 8:30 PM.

Tues., Jan 2, 1945

About 2 inches of snow on the ground this morning. It took turns, snowing, hailing, and raining all morning. It’s raining now. God what a country!

Thurs. Jan 11, 1945

Started snowing last nite. Was three inches deep this morning. It stayed with us all day -- Tonite at about 5 PM they threw a line all the way around the field. Cy and I were on the north side. Had to fall out in full field equipment. They are expecting trouble from the Eyties. Intelligence reports they are going to burn the town hall in Gioia tomorrow. We are subject to call at any time and must fall in at our assigned spot in the line. In case of an alert, Cy and I have about 400 yds to run. -- I think 90% of the men hope trouble comes. They have a pent up feeling against these sons of bitches. So have I.

Jan 18, 1945

Went on sick call this morning. Was sent to the 41st ADG Hospital in Gioia. Will stay here all nite and go to 26 General Hospital tomorrow morning.

Jan. 19, 1945

Arrived 26 General Hospital this morning. Checked in at 2 AM.

Jan. 22, 1945

Was snowing this morning when I awoke. Am going back to the squadron today or tomorrow.

Jan 25, 1945

Got back from 26 General Hospital this afternoon.

Daddy's War

It is almost a year now since Daddy died. The time has gone by really fast, and yet so much has happened in that year. I still miss him daily. The time at the end was frustrating. I really believed that he was going to get better. It wasn't until a couple of days before he died that it actually hit me how much trouble he was in. I never thought in my wildest imaginings that it would end the way it did.

Once he was gone, so many stark and surreal decisions had to be made. His house was a wreck. I had known that much was coming, having to wade through all that mess. His office was cluttered with years and years of papers. He never threw anything away. And it was often difficult to determine what was garbage and what was something that needed to be saved. But there were also so many surprises, like the daily journals he kept for decades upon decades. There were more formal memoirs he had typed and gone over. There was a World War II diary, a tiny little booklet inside a Ziploc. There were tokens treasured throughout the years, some of which I still don't understand. He had a rock collection, but he never labeled any of the rocks, so I didn't know their significance. There were cartoon figurines, dozens and dozens of loose photographs, and albums so carefully assembled by Mother after she retired. There were letters from relatives and friends, some of whom I did not know. And it went on and on, the detritus of a lifetime. And what does a survivor do with all this ocean of stuff!

I adored my daddy. He was always my fall-back, my go-to, my guide through the minefield. We had a special friendship, a mutual admiration and respect for each other. All my life I was simply a big-time Daddy's girl. It wasn't easy to wade through all the remnants of his days on this earth, especially not right then, when his death was still such an open wound. With the help of my SO we hauled off bags and bags of throw-away. Some of the things that ended up in the fire pit at my SO's place, were sentimentally valuable. Some of those things wound up there unintentionally. I didn't know what they were -- trip logs from the many many cruises and car trips my parents went on, photos of long-forgotten places. I foolishly thought I could get it all down to one box. One small storage bin, something more manageable than this whole house full of nostalgia. Those weeks of cleaning house were a huge struggle. I was looking for important things, but how to tell exactly what that was or might be. I was looking for legacy. I ended up with several boxes, and more than one bin. I ended up with priceless photographs, pages of memoirs, and treasures that have found special places in my life now. But I know I also know that I inadvertently threw some of those treasures away.

And then there was his World War uniform. Hanging inside a heavy garment bag in the office closet. I knew it was there. It wasn't a huge surprise. I had come upon it many times in my girlhood, when it didn't mean much to me. Everybody's dad had fought in the War. It was still pretty fresh in the 50s and 60s. Daddy's best friend had lost both his legs in the War, in the Battle of the Hurtgen Forest. Another friend had a deformed hand, a wound received when his unit invaded Italy at Salerno. When asked what he did in the War, Daddy always said he was "footman." I didn't know what that meant, but it satisfied me and I repeated it many times. But the truth is, he was in a unit of the Army Air Corp that repaired B-24 bombers damaged in combat. He never fired his weapon in battle, but his squadron was frequently under bombardment. Statistics I have read say that it took 25 men in support units to enable a single fighting man to do the actual business of dispatching the enemy. Daddy was one of those 25.

At first he worked in the sheet metal factory, repairing flak holes in bomber skins. Then he was in the propeller unit, repairing bent up props that had crash-landed or been otherwise shot up. He packed parachutes for a time, a job that probably seemed small and inconsequential but that saved so many lives. Then one day, about halfway through the war, the CO of Daddy's unit asked in desperation "Does anybody around here know how to type?" Before the War Daddy had worked for Western Union. He had typed, in kind of hunt and peck fashion, a few telegraph communiques. He raised his hand in answer to his CO's query, and became the squadron typist. He got pretty good at it, and was promoted to corporal, the youngest man in his squadron. They called him "Baby," which was the same thing he was called at home, so it felt normal to him. In fact, the whole experience of war was pretty good, his coming of age years, and his memories of those days attested to that. Which was why he kept his uniform so neat and clean in that garment bag for 67 years. He had gotten married in that uniform, because it was the only suit of clothing he had that fit him after the war, and lots of servicemen got married in theirs, too, in that year of a hundred million weddings -- 1946.

There it was, still hanging in his closet, same as it had been when I was a kid. But what to do with it now?

A dozen years before I had met and befriended a man who had been a fighter pilot in the War. He had helped me with research I was doing on a novel. We had met several times for lunch, and I had visited him and his wife at their home. He had shown me a foot locker filled with his War memorabilia. There were invaluable things in that foot locker, 50-caliber shell casings fired from the guns of his plane, a fighter pilot's oxygen map, a survival kit, a Nazi flag he had captured, and on and on and on. I had said to him, "Jack, this stuff should be in a museum." And he had answered that was a decision that would have to be made by his heirs.

Heirs indeed. Now, I was having to make that decision. Daddy's uniform, the big leftover keepsake of my father's war, should also be in a museum. It was pristine, looked the same as it had when he last took it off and hung it in the closet. No moth holes. No ragged places. No rusty spots. It was still olive drab, with all the appliques neatly sewn on where they should be. It was museum-quality. I started calling around. I really had no idea where to even begin. I spent several days on it, and finally, lo and behold, someone returned my call. A man who ran the local museum in the town where Daddy had spent the last 18 years of his life. They were collecting things for a military exhibit. He did not have an Army Air Corp uniform. He was excited by the uniform and wondered if I had other things that could be added, any letters, diary entries, could I write a little something about his service in the War. Of course, I could. That's what I am, a writer, and I had listened to Daddy's War Stories all my life. I had escorted him, and even hosted, one of his Squadron Reunions. I started going through his memorabilia with an eye towards what might make a more interesting exhibit in a museum.

This past Monday, January 27, 2014, almost exactly one year after he died, Daddy's museum exhibit opened. He isn't the only soldier honored there, but he is one of them, and his is the first thing you see when you enter the front doors. I almost could feel him smiling at me when I looked at it there, on opening day.

Dodge City, Kansas

When Daddy was a young man, coming home from World War II, his troop train stopped at Dodge City, Kansas to take on fuel. The returning troops were made to stay on the train. Daddy had pulled KP duty the day before, and his sergeant said to him, “Hey Corporal, jump down from this train and run over there to the station to get me a newspaper.” He gave Daddy a nickel and Daddy jumped down from the train. Inside the station, he had to wait in line to buy the paper. As he was walking back to the box car being used as the kitchen, the train started away from the station. Daddy tucked the paper under his arm, and holding onto this cap, began to run. All the other guys in the KP car, hollered at him, and held out their hands, and Daddy made it to the train in time for them to pull him aboard as the train was leaving. Thus, he made it back to Texas and home. A few more seconds, and he could have been AWOL, all because of the sergeant and his newspaper. Daddy told me this story last night when I called him from the road.

It was 111 degrees in Dodge City yesterday. There are 27,000 people living here now. I imagine it was a much smaller place in 1945. We stopped at the Boot Hill Museum before we got a motel room. The museum is a tourist trap. We bought some souvenirs and left. They don’t allow dogs, not even leashed ones, on Boot Hill. We couldn’t leave her in the car. The temperature inside the car said 121 when we got back, and we were only gone about ten minutes. She was, as she always is, ecstatic to see us.

Today we will strike out for Missouri. Hopefully there will be better internet there. The weather everywhere is too hot for traveling. But I am pouring out my bucket list. I can now check off Kansas. That leaves about 15 more states I need to visit before I die. And another item on my list -- seeing the fireworks on the National Mall on the Fourth of July -- I will be checking that one off next Wednesday. In the process, I also get to see my son and his partner. I miss my “connections” to the world and to myself. My sweet son is one of those connections. A most precious one.

Onward ....

The Real Deal

I have not written anything for the last few days but I have been writing in my head. I consider this to be valid, because any writer has to do a lot of thinking about writing in addition to the actual act of writing, or putting words to the page, virtual or otherwise. I stopped working on the screenplay, because I basically got stuck. Couldn't think of what part needed to be amended, or left out altogether, or focused on, so I just set the screenplay aside for the time being. I picked up one of my old, oft-rejected short stories. I have never put all those stories onto this computer, and frankly, the idea of putting them out there for Kindle has been sort of seductive, so I thought I would at least get them onto this computer, and in the process give them a freshening. That is exactly what I thought I was doing with this short story, except.... I got stuck with it, too.

This is a story that has had many very "nice" rejections. In other words, editors have made lots of comments along with their rejections. This story has also been workshopped, critiqued, whatever else a thing like this can go through. I have always sort of liked this story. It has elements in it that I have wished to see in print. Oh well.....

It has also been set aside for the time being.

And so... I am back to thinking about the "endless novel." We have watched a few war movies lately. That has me thinking about it. And I started reading 33 MONTHS AS A POW IN STALAG LUFT III by Albert P. Clark, which has me thinking again about it, as well. I have not gone so far as to actually get it out and dust it off, re-read it or whatever, but I am definitely headed in that direction. The thing is, I have put so much work into this novel. It is 90% done. I re-read it about a year ago, made some minor changes, and found it to have a lot of merit, surprisingly so. A really good writer friend of mine has read it and also found it to have merit -- she gave me some excellent feedback. I really would like to finish it. In fact, it's one of my biggest desires, to finish this novel.

Thing is, I don't know if it will find a publisher. I think fear is inching it's way into this project, insidiously. I am not certain about that at all. But I have been in contact with my "old" editor recently, and so I'm thinking maybe I should just go ahead, on faith, and finish this damned novel. It probably wouldn't take but a couple of months, if I really put my nose to the proverbial grindstone and got after it. I have the backing of my sweetheart -- he says he supports me 100 percent. I have the research material right here, a few feet from my desk. I have new insights into the plot, or character motivations anyway. Why not? It's one of the things I have set my sights on actually doing, completing it. Before I die. My bucket list. Whatever.... I've been talking about it for ten years now at least. Why not go for it? Finish the goddammed thing!!!

I truly think this is the REAL deal. The thing I SHOULD be working on. It's the place all this other superficial writing has been leading me. I truly think that I am a novelist above and beyond anything else. I truly think it's time to put myself on the line with this. Why not? What is the holdup? What new and profound excuse can I come up with now for not going ahead with this almost-finished novel? What better place to work than where I am now, in the peace and quiet of these lovely mountains? What else can I say or do to keep me FROM doing this, completing this? What?

I even think it might be the best thing I've ever written. It has certainly been the most challenging. And the interruptions. The set-backs. Losing a marriage, losing a life, losing a son, changing my whole entire lifestyle, my path. God, what hasn't happened to keep me from doing THIS? But it is time now. Excuses are becoming tired and oh so lame. Not even I believe them anymore.

(In a whisper...) Onward ..... (Yes, I CAN do this, by God!)

Onward (with conviction) ......