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By the men . . . for the 
men in the service 



HUNTING 

SNIPERS 



Original from 






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By Sgt. JOE MCCARTHY, YANK Staff Correspondent 

W ith the Fifth Army in Italy — Most of us were still waiting for 
our first notice from the draft board on the day that Pfc. Milbum 
H. Henke of Hutchinson, Minn., walked down the gangplank at 
Belfast, Northern Ireland, in a 1918 helmet, blouse, necktie, full field 
pack. Ml, gas mask and canvas leggings, and posed on the dock, smiling, 
for pictures that later appeared in practically every newspaper in the 
States. That was Jan. 26, 1942. Henke was the center of all that attention 
because he was the first American soldier in this war to set foot in the 
European theater. 

Henke is back in the States now, reclassified as limited service, with 
an excellent combat record in Tunisia where he served as communica- 
tions sergeant in a rifle company and won the Silver Star. But his old 
outfit, the 1st Battalion of the I33d Infantry in the veteran 34th (Red 
Bull) Division, is still here, finishing its third year overseas and sweating 
out its third straight winter in the front lines. 

Only a few of the original GIs who landed with Henke in Belfast are 
left now — fewer than 60 out of the whole -battalion. In Henke’s old com- 
pany (Baker Company) there are seven. They have more overseas time 
than any other infantrymen in Europe today, because the 1st Battalion 
arrived in Belfast a couple of weeks ahead of the other early Infantry 
units in that first American Expeditionary Force. If you showed them the 
pictures taken on the dock, they would have a hard time recognizing 
themselves. They have almost forgotten what blouses, neckties, gas masks 
and canvas leggings look like. 

Few, if any, infantrymen in any theater of operations have seen more 
combat than they have in the last two years. The battalion fought the 
whole Tunisian campaign, including Hill 609, and it has been in the line 
in Italy since late September 1943, with only one rest period that lasted 
more than a month. 

You can get some idea of the terrific physical and mental strain of the 
Italian campaign by comparing the time this battalion has been able to 
rest in the last 15 months with the time it has spent under fire in the 
same period. 

The' battalion landed at Salerno two weeks after D-Day and took over 
a sector from the 45th Division on Sept. 27, 1943. Its men did not get a 
chance to relax from that day until the day after Thanksgiving, when 
they were relieved by the French and brought back to Castelnuovo for# 



S/Sgt. Max Shephard is the other 
His father, Maj. Lloyd 



so (Iowa) man who has stayed with the 
used to be the battalion commander. 



Unatnal t 




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Pvt. Ralph lay it on* of two Waterloo C*owa) man from the original outfit. 
Ho hat more combat stare on hit ribbort* than anyono olto in tho battalion. 



1/Sfl. Evorall Schonbrich of Caooy, Iowa, hat boon with tho outfit from tho 
boginning, too. Sgt. Schonbrich it a m o m bor of Dog Company'! mortar platoon. 



two weeks' rest During those two months of combat, which included two 
bloody crossings of the Volturno and the taking of Ashcan Hill at San 
Mario de Oliveto, they had only one week out of the line — in an area 
under German artillery fire. 

They moved up front on Dec. 11 and stayed there more than two 
months, during which they made five attempts to cross the Rapido River 
in bitter winter weather. Then, on Feb. 22, they were pulled out of the 
Cassino sector and got 21 days off to prepare for a move to Anzio. The 
battalion landed at Anzio on Mar. 25. It did not get another rest until 
June 8, soon after the battalion had advanced on Tarquinia, 18 miles 
ahead of the rest of the Fifth Army, with no flank protection, and had 
wiped out a German bicycle battalion. 

"We made our first contact with the Germans a little after midnight,” 
says Pfc. John F. Weidler of Wichita Falls, Tex., one of the battalion 
headquarters men. “By 4 o'clock the next afternoon it was all over. That 
next night every man in our battalion had a bicycle of his own.” 

The 1st Battalion was relieved 24 hours later by a battalion of a divi- 
sion fresh from the States. 

"I think that was the only time I ever saw a whole outfit with fixed 
bayonets,” S/Sgt. Ned Levinson of the Bronx, N. Y., says. "There wasn’t 
a German within miles of us. But these guys came up at night in trucks, 
with every one of them carrying his rifle at port arms and the bayonets 
fixed on every gun. And not a German within miles. Damnedest sight I 
ever seen.” 

A little more than two weeks later, June 25, the battalion was back in 
the line again at San Vincenzo. Then came the tough battles at Cecina 
and Mount Maggiore. At the end of July, tfie battalion went on the first 
real vacation’ it has enjoyed in Italy — six weeks at a beach resort on the 
Mediterranean coast below Leghorn. 

On Se£t. 10, the battalion moved north from Florence and plunged 
into hard fighting over the most difficult terrain the men have been up 
against overseas. Slugging their way up the steep ridges of the Gothic 
Line, they found an enemy who was resisting as strongly as he did at 
Cassino and Anzio. They had six days out of the line at the end of the 
month. Then they went back for six more weeks. Early in November, 
when the advance had slowed to a stop in the rain and mud before 
Bologna, the battalion hiked out of the mountains at night, climbed into 
trucks and drove to a rest town west of Florence for 10 days. 

When you figure it out, the battalion has had about 16 weeks of rest 
in the last 15 months. 

Adding this long stretch of Italian combat to the battalion's time on 
the Tunisian front, you get something around 350 days of line service. 
And 76 Bronze Stars, 64 Silver Stars, nine Legions of Merit and 17 Dis- 



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tinguished Service Crosses. (When the Fifth 
Army announced on the iirst anniversary of 
Salerno that it had awarded 201 DSCs, the bat- 
talion had 16 of them.) The battalion also has 
one Medal of Honor, awarded posthumously to 
Pvt. Robert D. Booker of Callaway. Nebr., killed 
Apr 9, 1943, at Fondouk while attacking single- 
handedly two enemy machine guns and a mortar 
position across 200 yards of open ground. 

T he 34th Division was an Iowa-Minnesota-Da- 
kota National Guard outfit when it went into 
active duty at Camp Claiborne, La., in February 
1941. Later that year, while the Army was still 
wearing dark-blue fatigues and old shallow hel- 
mets of the first World War. the 34th was stream- 
lined from a four-regiment square division to a 
three-regiment triangular one. The Dakota regi- 
ment, the 164th Infantry, was lopped off and sent 
first to the West Coast and then to the South Pa- 
cific, where it later became famous at Guadal- 
canal and Bougainville as a part of the Americal 
Division. That left the 34th almost exclusively a 
division of soldiers from Iowa and Minnesota. 
Two of the regiments, the 133d and the 168th In- 
fantries. were Iowa National Guard outfits. The 
other regiment, the 135th Infantry, was from 
Minnesota. Two of the divisional artillery bat- 
talions were from Minnesota, the other from Iowa. 

In the 1st Battalion of the 133d, A Company 
was a National Guard unit from Dubuque and 
most of the boys in Baker and Dog Companies 
were from Waterloo. Charlie Company was com- 
posed of men from Cedar Rapids. After they 
moved away from home to start their training at 
Claiborne, these National Guardsmen began to 
worry about the Selective Service System. They 
were afraid it might send them a lot of draftees 
from the East or South who would make the bat- 
talion lose its Hawkeye flavor. Their fears were 
groundless. More than 75 percent of the draftees 
assigned to the battalion were from Iowa. 

The battalion was still an Iowa outfit in Ire- 
land, in North Africa and in Italy until it moved 
into the Cassino sector. Then it began to change. 
The familiar Iowa faces of the original National 
Guardsmen and the early draftees started to dis- 
appear. A lot of them were killed; others, with 
what the boys enviously called “million-dollar 
wounds," didn’t come back from the hospital. 
When the battalion embarked for Anzio, it was 
almost a new outfit. And later when it pushed 
north from Rome, most of the remaining old men 
went home to Iowa on rotation or TD. 

The few GIs left now who have been with the 
battalion since the beginning are mostly clerks, 
cooks, truck drivers and cannon-company men — 
the . soldiers in the Infantry who get the low 
priority on rotation because, compared with the 
riflemen and machine gunners, they have a some- 
what lower priority on death. But most of the 
cooks, truck drivers and cannon-company men in 
this battalion have Purple Hearts. When it gets 
i ough. they work up forward as litter-bearers. 

Probably because rotation and TD are worked 
on an alphabetical basis, most of the remaining 
"Jan. 26" men in the battalion seem to have last 
names beginning with "S” or letters farther on. 
There is. for instance, S/Sgt. Everall Schonbrich 
of Casey, Iowa, from the Dog Company mortar 
platoon; S/Sgt. Jerry Snoble of Hazleton, Iowa, 
supply sergeant of Charlie Company who served 
in a rifle platoon until he was wounded in 
Tunisia; S/Sgt. Stanley Setka of Riceville, Iowa, 
an antitank squad leader, and T-5 Raymond E. 
Sonksen of Grundy Center, Iowa, acting mess 
sergeant in Baker Company. There were 22 men 
from Grundy Center in Baker Company back at 
Claiborne. Sonksen is the only one left 

And only two of the Waterloo men who formed 
almost two full companies of the original Na- 
tional Guard battalion are still here. They are 
S Sgt. Max Shepherd, whose father, Maj. Lloyd 
H. Shepherd, used to be battalion commander, 
and Pvt. Ralph Loy, a character who has one 
more of those important combat stars on his 
theater ribbon than anybody else in the battalion. 
Loy was transferred to the 3d Division after 
Tunisia, went through the Sicilian campaign and 
then managed to get back into his old Iowa bat- 
talion when it was leaving for Italy. "The ad- 
jutant fixed me up," he says. "He and I were old 
friends. He court-martialed me once in Ireland." 

Although the battalion is now composed of sol- 
diers from practically every state in the Union, 
the old Iowa men still have a great pride in their 
outfit. They will argue for hours to prove that 
their battalion entered a certain town last July 
three hours ahead of one of the other 133d In- 



fantry battalions. They are still sore because the 
recent official Fifth Army account of the advance 
to Rome gives the 1st Special Service Force 
credit for taking Highway 7 and the railroad line 
during the break-through from Anzio. “We 
passed through the Special Service Force there 
on the night of May 24 and attacked the next 
morning,” they say. "Charlie Company did most 
of the job and cleaned it up in two hours." 

Just as they think their battalion is the best 
in the regiment, they also consider the 133d the 
best regiment in the division. They have a deep 
respect for the 3d and the 45th Divisions, which 
shared their hardships in Italy before moving on 
to southern France, but they don't feel that any 
other division can quite measure up to the 34th. 

In a rest town recently, one of their officers 
noticed a GI, loaded with cognac, passing oiit on 
the street in front of his CP. He asked a couple 
of his men to pick up the soldier and put him 
under cover. When they started to lift him from 
the sidewalk, one of them noticed that he was 
wearing the shoulder patch of another division. 
Without a moment's hesitation, they dropped him 
back on the sidewalk and walked away, dusting 
their hands. It took the officer quite a while to 
convince them it was their duty to take care of 
the drunk, even if he wasn’t in the 34th. . 

T his pride in the outfit and the personal pride 
of each man, who knows the silent contempt 
that veteran GIs feel for men who turn into 
stragglers or AWOLs without good reason, keep 
the battalion going at times when the demands 
made upon it seem to be more than a human be- 
ing can take. Those demands are made often here. 

When you talk with the men in the battalion 
about the war in Italy and ask them why it has 
been so slow and tough, they give you straight 
and simple answers that make more sense than 
most of the profound comments that military 
experts have written on the subject. 

"Listen," they say, “the Jerry has got all that 
stuff piled up here. He can't take it with him and 
he doesn't want to leave it for us. So he is staying 
here until he uses it up, just like any smart guy 
would do. You can tell that’s the way he’s thinking 
from the amount of artillery he's throwing at us. 
It’s as bad as Anzio.” 

They feel that GIs in the rear echelon and the 
people at home do not understand the numbers 
of Germans they are facing. "This may be a for- 
gotten front and all that,” they say, "but we had 
10 battalions against our division last month. It 
may be forgotten by us but it’s not forgotten by 
the Germans. We captured a Jerry pay roll that 
showed a division with a strength of 10,300 men.” 
The terrain? “Miles on the map here don’t mean 
anything. You may be told to advance to a point 
three miles away. But by the time you get there, 
up and down ridges and around chasms, zig- 
zagging up the sides of mountains, you’ll have 
covered eight or nine miles. The squad on your 
right may be within talking distance. But there 
is a canyon dropping down between you and them. 
If you want to get to them, you have to walk a 
half mile to the rear and a half mile forward 
again on their side of the canyon. We heard about 
a captain — a company commander in the 168th — 
who covered 72 miles on pay day, paying off his 
men, without going outside his company area.” 
Despite the ample German supplies and men 
and the difficult terrain on the Fifth Army front, 
the GIs in the battalion think the Allies could 
have been more successful here if they had been 
able to attack the Gothic Line in greater depth. 
"That’s been our trouble ever since we've been in 
Italy,” they say. “When we take a position or 
make a break-through, we never seem to have 
enough fresh troops behind us to really make 
something out of the gain. We have to stop, and 
there’s nobody to follow up and keep pushing.” 
The older men in the battalion and the veteran 
officers, like Capt. Richard Wilkinson of Toano, 
Va., who missed only 15 days of Charlie Com- 
pany’s combat until he was transferred recently 
to battalion headquarters, have seen a lot of 
changes in Army methods — mostly for the better, 
they say — in their two years of action. 

All the men in the battalion say they are eating 
much better food now than they had earlier in 
the Italian campaign and in Tunisia. "The 10- 
in-one rations are damned good,” Sonksen says. 
“We’re getting fresh meat and bread more often. 
Back in Tunisia we used to go without bread for 
weeks. The boys had it so seldom that when they 
did get it they used to eat it for dessert, like cake. 
Somebody ought to tell somebody to give us more 



coffee and lay off the bouillon and lemon powddr ') 
.and cocoa. And speaking of coffee, the Coleman - 
stove is one of the great inventions of the war." 

“The Coleman stove, the jeep and the Bailey • 
Bridge," Shepherd says, “are winning the war. J 
Guys with Colemans would rather move up with- | 
out helmets than leave their stoves behind. We 
carry them in Jerry gas-mask containers. They 
don’t make much light, either, once they get 
started. A hot breakfast in the morning makes all 
the difference in the world.” 

When you mention clothing, the GIs in the 
battalion think first of shoes and socks, the most 
important items in the Infantry’s wardrobe. They 
don’t know why the Army didn’t give them com- 
bat boots back in 1941 instead of service shoes 
and leggings. They don't have a high opinion of 
the combat shoe with the rough side of the leath- 
er on the outside. It doesn’t shed water as well as 
the smooth -finished boot and it takes longer to 
dry. They are not satisfied with the shoepac, the 
new type of winter boot with a rubber foot and 
waterproof black-leather top. 

“It's a step in the right direction,” Weidler 
says. "It’s an attempt to keep the feet dry, and 
that’s the only way to beat trenchfoot. But the 
shoepac gives the foot no support. If you walk' 
a long distance in them, they kill you.” 

Everybody likes the issue woolen sweater, 
but prefers last winter's combat jacket with the 
zipper front and the high woolen collar and cuffs 
to the new green hip-length jacket. ‘The new 
jacket is not bad," one GI says, “but it acts like 
a shelter half in the rain. If you rub against one 
spot inside too much, the water comes throu^.* 
Nobody wants any part of the new sleepng 
bag with the zipper that pulls up from the feet 
to the chin. “It may be fine for the Air Forces,” 
one of the BAR men says, “but I wouldn’t get 
into one of those things in the line if you paid 
me. Suppose a Kraut found me with my arms and 
legs all zippered up, like I was in a strait jacket?" 

The battalion has not noticed much change for 
the better or worse in their weapons or ammuni- 
tion in the two years they have been in combat. 
Some of the men would like lighter weapons 
with more fire power; others would prefer more 
heavy weapons, like the BAR. They still envy the 
German smokeless powder as they did in Tunisia. 
They like the German light machine gun better 
than ours and they think the German machine 
pistol is a better weapon than our tommy gun. 

T hey won’t always admit it, but you can tel I 
from talking to them that the men in the bat- 
talion get a deep satisfaction from knowing their 
job is the toughest one in the Army. They know 
that, if they come through the war safely, their 
own part in it will be something they will be able 
to look back on with pride for the rest of their 
lives. They know that it will be a good feeling 
to say at a gathering of veterans years from now; 

“I was with the 34th Division in Tunisia and Italy 
— 1st Battalion of the One-Three-Three." 



But that is something in the remote future. 
Right now they are tired, and their attitude 
toward the fate that put them in the Infantry, 
in the snow of the Apennine Mountains, in- 
stead of in some softer branch of the service, is 
one of resignation. They are accepting it, trying 
to make the best of it and trying to tell them- 
selves that it could have been worse. One of the 
men in the battalion, describing the ordeal he 
had been through recently at Cecina, ended up: 
“I think we were the fi'st ones to get into the 
town itself. Anyway, we were pulled out of there 
for a couple of days on July 3. On the Fourth of 
July we had a hot holiday meal." 

Then he thought for a moment and added: 
“You know, that’s one thing about this outfit. 
We’ve had it tough all along but, somehow or 
other, we’ve always managed to hit some place 
on holidays where we can have a hot meal. 
Christmas of 1942 we were on the boat in Liver- 



pool, waiting to push off for North Africa. On the 
Fourth of July in 1943, we were back in a rest 
area after the Tunisian campaign. Thanksgiving 
Day in 1943 we had just finished the fighting at 
Ashcan Hill, but we had a turkey dinner right 
there on the side of the hill. It was raining and 
the Germans were shelling us, but we didn’t give 
a damn — we had the turkey.” 

He smiled and shook his head. “Maybe you 
better not print that," he said. "Somebody at di- 
vision headquarters may read it and say; Those 
guys have had it too good. We’ll see that they 
spend their next five Thanksgivings and Christ- 
mases in the line eating K rations.’ " 



YANK. The Army Weekly, publication issued weekly by Branch Oftct, Information A [duration Division, War Department, 205 East 4 2d Street, New York 17, N. Y. Reproduction rights restricted as indicated in 
masthead on the editorial page. Entered as second class matter July 6, 1942, at the Post Office at New York, N. Y under the Act of March 3, 187 9. Subscription price $3.00 yearly. Printed in the U. I. 



| . | Origins) from 

- ^ UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN 



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By Sgt. JOHN MORAN 
YANK Field Correspondent 

I celand- — When the first soldiers landed here at 
the request of the Icelandic Government in the 
summer of 1941, they were surprised to find a 
country with little more December snowfall than 
New Jersey and only two months of the year 
yielding weather cold enough for ice skating. The 
chilly sound of the name Iceland was proved at 
least partly incorrect; only the permanent glaciers 
of the interior lived up to expectations. 

The first letters from home reflected the same 
popular view of the new base area. Wive.;, moth- 
ers and sweethearts asked for such souvenirs as 
caged live polar bears and walruses. They thought 
the GIs were living among Eskimos in igloos, in 
the kind of Arctic desolation they had seen in 
Adm. Byrd's South Pole movies. 

Since those early days, the soldiers and — 
through their letters home — some U. S. civilians 
have obtained a new and more accurate picture of 
the tiny island republic. They know now that 
Eskimos, igloos, polar bears and walruses are as 
foreign to Icelanders as they are to the residents 
of Dubuque, Iowa, or Schenectady. N. Y. Icelandic - 
civilization is one of the oldest in the western 
world and one of the most highly developed. Ice- 
land has no slums, no poverty, no unemployment, 
no illiteracy, no capital punishment and, with a 
few scraggly exceptions, no trees. 

There aren’t a great many Icelanders — approxi- 
mately 120,000, or about as many people as in 
Little Rock, Ark. — and the sudden influx of Amer- 
ican soldiers caused marked reactions in almost 
every phase of Iceland's economy. The tremen- 
dous GI pay roll put more currency into circula- 
tion than the nation had ever seen, resulting in an 
immediate skyward climb of prices. Two native 
products, milk and butter, today cost more than 
three times what they did in 1940. U. S. cigarettes 
sell for three kronur (about 45 cents) a pack. 

Despite this domestic upheaval. Icelandic-GI 
relations — a bit on the cautious side at first — have 
become decidedly friendly. Many soldiers are reg- 
ular visitors at Icelandic homes and a few have 
even learned the language — no easy feat for 
Americans because of the different alphabet and 
the tricky pronunciation of Icelandic words. The 



tails for all personnel, but the outpost sentinels 
have probably the most difficult assignment of all. 
They are separated from their units for months 
at a time and remain on the alert day and night. 

Social life for soldiers outside camp is limited 
by the small size of nearby Icelandic towns — when 
nearby towns exist at all. A popular activity is 
visiting coffee shops to enjoy the delicious pastry 
and cream cake. Restaurants serve familiar food, 
for Icelandic kitchen tradition is much the same 
as American. Icelandic beer is too weak for most 
GIs and isn’t liked by most Icelanders either. 

Although there are sightseeing trips. GI dances, 
soldier shows, pony riding (Iceland has no full- 
size horses) and fishing, many of the GIs prefer 
riding hobbies. One favorite pastime is collecting 
pin-ups; the men in a single hut boast 600 photos 
on the walls. Other Yanks make lamps from old 
shell casings, study correspondence courses and 
amuse themselves with their own broadcasting 
network. (A Special Service phonograph, a stack 
of records and home-made loudspeakers in each 
Nissen hut provide one camp with music.) 

But the most popular hobby is watching the 
girls go by in town. The blond, blue-eyed Ice- 
landic women are among the most beautiful in 
the world. That’s the GI consensus and the opinion 
of Marlene Dietrich, no dog herself, who recently 
performed for soldier audiences here. 

I celand is a neutral nation, without army or navy 
of its own. but the Germans ignore this. Last 
November a German submarine torpedoed and 
sank the Godafoss, Iceland’s largest passenger 
ship. All but two of its passengers lost their lives. 

If the Germans had occupied Iceland, the Luft- 
waffe would have been based within easy reach 
of Greenland, Newfoundland and eastern Canada. 
In the U. S., New York City and other large indus- 
trial areas along our own northeastern seaboard 
would have been within the radius of possible 
enemy air attack. Allied shipping to Britain and 
northward to Murmansk in Russia might have 
been cut off completely. Our great landings in 
Normandy would almost certainly have been de- 
layed for months — or years. 

Although Iceland is not a member of the United 
Nations, her people give warm support to the Al- 
lied cause because of the closer Icelandic-Ameri- 
can and Icelandic-British relations developed in 
recent years and the kinship between Icelanders 
and the people of the Scandinavian countries now 
overrun by the Germans. (Almost all Icelanders 
are of Scandinavian ancestry.) 

Following the torpedoing of the Godafoss, one 
oif Reykjavik’s daily newspapers declared: ’There 
will be no peace and security -on earth until these 
butchers (the Nazis) and their creed of Fascism 
are completely eliminated and until assurance is 
given that such barbarism may never again rise 
in the world." 



oned 



Icelanders have done better with English than we 
have with Icelandic. Many children 9 and 10 years 
old not only speak English fluently but do pretty 
well with American slang, too. 

GI marriages with the Icelandic women served 
to make friendships between Yanks and Iceland- 
ers even more cordial. There was an Army ban on 
these marriages until last spring, but since its re- 
laxation some 75 GIs have taken local wives. 

At first many soldiers lived in tents for lack of 
Nissen huts. The tents were OK in summer but 
gave little protection against sudden winter gales. 

The Army training program here is thorough 
but limited by the rugged, barren terrain and the 
abnormally long winter nights (which last about 
20 hours of the 24) . There are plenty of work de- 



Grig 



fro 



na 



m 



UffiWEfo T ttjrfctt 



Two young Icelandic girls (stulkas), dressed in native costume, walk beside a lake in downtown Reykjavik 





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YANK The Army Weekly • FEB. 2, 1945 




Yanks at Home Abroad 




Last Laugh 

L eyte, the Philippines — Part of war has always 
■ been the exchange of conversation and dirty 
cracks between soldiers on opposite sides of the 
line, and that goes out here. Too 
Usually the American GIs come off first in the 
snappy-dialogue department, possibly because 
they're dealing with their native tongue. But 
there is one Yank here who was bested in a brief 
verbal exchange, although the Jap died very soon 
afterward. 

The Yank had the Jap cornered in a hole and 
courteously advanced the suggestion that he 
come the hell out and surrender. 

The Jap had apparently met Americans before, 
because just before he died he shouted these im- 
perishable words: “Come and get me. you sou- 
venir-hunting son of a bitch!” _Sgt. Bill alcine 

YANK 5toff Correspondent 




ing into German positions on the Eastern Front." 

The flyers got front-row seats in the packed 
theater and attracted more attention than the 
play. When the curtain rang down on the first 
act. the audience refused to curb its enthusiasm 
any longer and burst out with cheers for the 
Americans. Someone played the spotlights on 
the Yanks, and autograph hunters pushed note- 
books at them for signatures. 

Everybody had questions to ask: What was 
America like? When would the Germans collapse 
on the Western Front? What kind of plane were 
the Americans flying? 

One young blonde nestled close to Sgt. Mark 
M. Harwood of Moorefield. W Va.. and tried out 
her English in what were obviously the only 
words she knew. She said: “My heart belongs to 
you, Daaaddy." 

The crewmen left the scene of their Russian 
welcome when an American airbase deeper in the 
U. S. S. R. sent a C-47 to pick them up. Now they’re 
back in the Army, waiting for further orders. 

-Sgt. SAMUEL CHAVKIN 
YANK field Correrpondent 

On the Fly Front 

E cypt — It’s no news that there are two ways 
of doing things — the right way and’the Army 
way. But when the Army way turns out to be 
right, that's news. It was bound to happen even- 
tually, and the first break in a long succession of 
bumbles occurred over here in the Middle East. 

With the war long since removed to distant 
regions, the most irritating problem at Camp 
Huckstep. Cairo’s big U. S. Army post, turned 
out to be that old desert companion, the common 
fly. Egyptian flies have the adhesive properties 
of Arab rug peddlers and reproductive powers 
that put rabbits to shame. 

Flies covered Camp Huckstep until a post order 
was issued requiring every officer and EM to 
kill 30 flies a day. 

What gives this story its unusual twist is that 
the order worked. There are now few flies at 
Camp Huckstep. Sgi. buryy evans 

YANK Staff Corretpondent 



HAPPY SHIPPER. Deris Perkins, 21. an SK3< of 
Baton Rouge, la., was one of the first bunch of 
Waves to go overseas. Here she is with her bag. 
bound for Pearl Harbor from U. S. West Coast 



Chop It Down 

S omewhere in France — You know these men 
belong to a special outfit when you come 
upon them at work. They wear the first high 




gineer Forestry battalion in the Army. The 
three companies it is supposed to administer, 
however, are scattered between India and the 
South Pacific. The other half of the team is a 
separate forestry company, not part of the origi- 
nal battalion, but trained by it in the U. S. Its 
CO is Lt. Maurice Reeves and his men are the 
real loggers and sawmill operators. 

The men come from every walk of life. There 
are farmers and gandy dancers, salesmen and 
professors. S/Sgt. A1 Rabin, a mill foreman, was 
assistant shoe buyer in a Milwaukee, (Wis.) de- 
partment store. Now he bosses doggers, setters, 
sawyers, off-bearers and cut-off men with as 
much ease as he used to size up a pair of 84-Ds. 

Cpl. Harold J. Liesh is a saw filer now. but 
he used to operate a linotype for a newspaper in 
St. Paul. Minn. His biggest present worry is 
shrapnel — from the last war. Most of the logs 
he uses, taken from a French . depot, contain 
imbedded shrapnel, which plays hell with the 
dogs (or teeth) of his saws. 

S/Sgt. Joseph A. Hager of Los Angeles, Calif.. 
was born in Germany. He sums up the immediate 
goal of the forestry outfit pretty well. 

“That Black Forest in Germany." he says, 
“that’s where I want to go. Most beautiful forest 
in the world. The Germans love that forest more 
than anything in the world. Chop the bastard 
down.’’ -YANK Field Corr eep e ed eW 

Pillbox Penthouse 

G ermany — German pillboxes are so cleverly 
concealed in this area that sometimes it is 



Russian Reception 

S omewhere in the U. S. S. R. — When the crew 
of a B-24 on a routine bomb run from Italy 
brought its flak-damaged plane into a field just 
behind the Russian lines, they got a reception 
equal to a Fifth Avenue victory march in every- 
thing but ticker tape. 

As soon as the Liberator hit the field, an unoffi- 
cial welcoming committee rushed out to greet it. 
And the committee was really international. 

“There was a Czechoslovakian colonel and a 
group of Russian fighter pilots, male and female,” 
says Sgt. E. J. Rostedt, a turret man from Brook- 
lyn. Conn. ‘There were mechanics, too, and 
civilian maintenance men, speaking Russian, 
Hungarian, Czech and a dozen other languages. 
But no English.” 

When the first excitement died down, the 
American crew members used sign language to 
show that they were hungry. Their enthusiastic 
hosts rushed them to a dining room and gave 
them a traditional Russian stuffing. They had 
shchee (cabbage soup), steak, potatoes, tea. bread, 
butter and cake. For most of the GIs it was the 
first steak since- leaving the States. The Russians 
here eat big meals like this four times a day. 

Highlight of the American visit at the front- 
line base was a trip to the theater. The play was 
an American farce produced in Polish, titled “A 
Day Without a Lie.” Bob Hope once made a movie 
of it under the original title, “Nothing but the 
Truth.” It concerns a stockbroker who tries to stay 
honest for 24 hours. 

Sgt. C. Mayo of Vineland, N. J., the tail gunner, 
says: “It made it more than ever a cockeyed 
world. You go halfway around it and see a play 
you might find in your own home town, and all 
within hearing distance of Red Army cannon fir- 



black boots you've seen in the U. S. Army and 
they don’t talk your language. They speak of 
swamping and limbing, of chokers and jammers, 
of timber cruisers and slab piles and of a myste- 
rious Biltmore stick. They are members of an 
Engineer Forestry outfit. 

It’s a GI outfit though — but with axes and 
peavies and saws instead of rifles and mortars 
and grenades. It’s one of 



almost impossible to find them in the heat of 
battle. During the push toward the high ground 
over the Roer River, one company Of the 405th 
Infantry radioed back to the CP that some of its 
men were apparently dug in on top of the same 
pillbox that the company on the right was trying 
to eliminate. -Sgt. t ARl ANDERSON 

YANK Staff Correspond*** 



the few Engineer For- 
estry outfits in France 
and part of one of the 
most widely scattered 
battalions in the Army. 

Hidden away in the 
deepest forest preserves 
of France, these black - 
booted muscle men are 
almost unknown to their 
fellow soldiers, but they 
produce stuff that is es- 
sential to keeping tanks 
and doughfeet moving 
forward. Lumber, timber, 
pilings and railway ties 
— all are needed to build 
bridges, roads, docks and 
railways for a mobile 
army. The portable saw- 
mills that turn out this 
high - priority merchan- 
dise are equipped to work 
24 hours a day. 

The outfit Is really two 
companies, working as a 
team. One. commanded 
by Capt. Winton Ber- 
nardin, is headquarters 
company for the only En- 




Memberi of an Engineer Forestry outfit in France keep lumber on the move 



PACE 6 



Original from 

UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN . 






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PT' r { V 



Don't Split Up 



M y choice is the VFW. To join this organiza- 
tion you must have had service outside the 
continental limits of the U.S. The boys who go 
across know what it is to leave a great country 
and to come back to it. The VFW has been lobby- 
ing in Congress for the GIs of this war. It has 
helped such bills as the GI Bill of Rights and 
many others. Men are being trained by VFW 
posts to help GIs when they are discharged. If 
you want a farm loan or plan to go to school, this 
VFW counselor will help cut red tape and put 
you on the right track. 

If the GIs of this war split up into two or three 
veterans’ organizations, we wouldn’t be strong. 
United we stand, divided we fall. 

USS Pa ICO -DANIIL J SCARRY SKIc 

Enlisted Men Only 

I am very much in favor of having another 
organization, but it should be restricted to en- 
listed men only. 

Every club or place we see over here is posted. 
Clubs, bars and dance halls are off limits to en- 
listed men. They have signs posted which read: 
"officers only.” So, when we come back home, 
why not continue in the same way? It has proven 
very successful over here. . 

I and my friends feel that we enlisted men can 
set up our own organization, hold our national 
and district conventions, and have a sufficient 
number of members to make it one of the best 
organizations the world has known. 

Sonsopor, Niw Guinea — CpI. I. I. MORRELL* 

’Signed by six other EM. 



fY ’ 






A United Bulwark 

I ike many GIs, there are things about existing 
■ veterans’ organizations that I don’t like. But 
that does not mean that I think we should form 
veterans’ organizations of our own. 

Forming separate veterans’ organizations means 
division among us Americans. I am against divi- 
sion. I am for unity. After this war we will need 
unity for continued peace more than we now 
need unity for victory. The 12 million veterans of 
this war, those of us who actually experienced 
war, together with the millions of the last war, 
our fathers and brothers who also tasted war, 
united can form the strongest bulwark against 
war for generations. 

Dalhort AAR, !•«. -S*l. CARL DORIO 

Change of Mind 

S ome time ago I thought we should form our 
own GI organization, but since then it has 
been my good fortune to meet members of the 
American Legion. I enjoyed their company and 
met many of their Legion friends at dances and 
parties at the Legion clubhouse in a large city in 
the U. S. I met many whose sons were in the ser- 
vice and also many other servicemen, guests at 
this Legion post. 

It started me thinking that all through the 
country Legion posts are organized. There are 
Legion men in this war. Legion men watch legis- 
lation pertaining to veterans in Washington and 
on down through state legislatures. 

I know we want to be independent and run our 
own organization, but why not benefit by the 
greatest teacher, experience, and use the resources 
and facilities of the American Legion? There will 
be some way by which we may have representa- 
tion in our own posts, state Legion affairs and 
national Legion policy. Dads of many servicemen 
will be glad their sons will inherit the Legion. 
For these reasons, I am in favor of joining this 
organized and experienced group. 

Luxembourg -S/Sfll. T. J. O'CONNELL 



Have One Already 

T he GIs of this, war already have a veterans’ 
organization of their own. namely, the Ameri- 
can Veterans’ Committee. According to the tem- 
porary chairman of this group, Charles Bolte, an 
ex-serviceman who lost a leg in the North. Afri- 
can campaign, one thousand servicemen and wo- 
men are buying his magazine. 

GIs of this war are going through common ex- 
periences as soldiers quite different from former 
soldiers of other wars. This is a war of greater 
intensity and ferocity. Out of common experiences 
emerge common desires. 

The soldier of this war knows that in any event 
he will be organized in some way, whether he 
likes it or not. He knows that military victory 
does not bring peace with it. nor does peace bring 
jobs or freedom necessarily. It is for these rea- 
sons that the AVC or something similar will be 
established for the ex-servicemen and women of 
World War II. 



Leyte, Philippines 



-i/Sgi. DANIEL RICH 



Post-War Program 

T he GIs ot this war should have an organization 
of their own. 

If the millions who have united to win the war 
unite to win the peace, they can reduce the 
chances of the little people of the world ever 
having to kill each other again. They can lead 
the way to a better world and salvage from the 
liabilities of this war the assets of peace. 

A post-war program must include increased 
trade among nations; a better understanding of 
each other’s problems, with fair discussion and 
consideration of them whether the natjons in- 
volved be large or small; free, uncensored ex- 
change of news between nations; liquidation of 
the fascist mind and philosophy wherever it 
arises, at home or abroad; strict policing to keep 
the- peace. What servicemen's organization has 
that program? 

Belgium — T/S9I IVAN SMITH 



A Different War 

Y es. The problems, attitudes, ideas and needs 
of World War II soldiers are different from 
those of World War I veterans. We fight a global 
war. They fought only in France. We have many 
times their numbers. We have been longer over- 
seas under conditions which they never faced. 

Our veterans’ organization should encompass 
all grades, branches, services — botli men and wo- 
men — which have participated in this World War 
II. Our organization should look out for and pro- 
tect the interest of veterans of this war, but it 
should be equally concerned with the welfare of 
all the people of America, and it should work 
constantly to prevent our children from becoming 
members of a veterans’ organization of World 
War III. 

Netherlands East Indies — S Sgt. GABE SANDERS 

Great Potentials 

T his war will have over 10 million veterans. It 
is inconceivable that existing organizations 
like the VFW or the American Legion can absorb 
the bulk of these new veterans and still serve the 
interests of the men for whom they were origi- 
nally formed. 

Veterans of this war will have little in common 
with men 20 or more years older who fought in 
vastly different conflicts. 

We will have a new organization. It will be 
potentially the most powerful pressure group in 
history. It can be the biggest convention-holding, 
whisky-drinking, time-wasting society ever 
formed. 

Or it can be a tool for winning the peace our 
buddies died fighting for. 

Indio - -CpI. R. W. ORERG 



T HIS page of GI opinion on important 
issues of the day is a regular feature 
of YANK. A question for future discussion 
will be “What Causes War Between Na- 
tions and What Can Be Done To Prevent 
It?" If you have any ideas on this subject 
send them to The Soldier Speaks Depart- 
ment, YANK, The Army Weekly, 205 East 
42d Street, New Y.erk 17, N. Y. We will 
allow you time to get answers here 
from overseas by mail. The best letters 
received will be printed in a future issue. 














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what town she was in. 

Most of the time the 
company made out all 
right with hotel accom- 
modations. In Minneapo- 
lis their hotel caught fire, 
but nobody got hurt. They 
spent some of their nights 
on sleepers and once, go- 
ing from Fresno to Sac- 
ramento, Calif., they had 
to stand all night in the 
aisles of a coach. Some- 
times they would get up 
in the morning after a 
night in a Pullman, play 
a matinee and night per- 
formance, then crawl back 
into the same Pullman 
bunks and ride all night 
again. 

The company, includ- 
ing cast, understudies, 
stage hands and property 
people, totaled 27 persons 
and a dog. It wasn't al- 
ways the same dog. Be- 
fore curtain time every 
night the question would 
go around: “Have we got 
a dog yet?” Usually the Joan McCracken— from 
assistant stage manager 

would borrow a pup from a local kid. The role of 
Marchbanks was played by dachshunds, poodles, 
terriers and airedales, always unrehearsed. 

In St. Paul, Minn., the actors competed for^ 
laughs with a sparrow that flew around over the 
stage and audience. In Milwaukee, Wis., the foot- 
lights awakened a resident bat that swooped down 
from the backstage rafters and stole the show. 

The company missed only one scheduled per- 
formance; after riding through a flood all day 
on the way to Oklahoma City, they missed their 
matinee. Another time they arrived late at the 
Corn Palace in Mitchell, S. Dak. To keep the 
audience amused, they left the curtain up while 
the stage was being set. It took 90 minutes, and the 
audience made the stage hands take a curtain call 
before the first act started. 

Dressing rooms ranged from a cubicle where 
your head was in the steam pipes to luxurious 
suites in the Kansas City Music Hall. At one the- 
ater the only way you could get from one side 
of the set to the other backstage was to go down 
in the basement to an outside door, run around 
the building and come in another door. 

Although the “road” played to socko business, 
the “straw-hat” or summer-theater groups that 
blossom annually in the countrysides, especially 
in New England, were hard hit. Gas rationing 
and overcrowded trains and busses were respon- 
sible. About the only 1944 summer theaters that 
broke even were those that were close to big 
cities or that moved into the cities. The Bucks 
County Playhouse, for instance, nailed up its 
doors and moved into the Bellevue-Stratford 
Hotel ballroom in Philadelphia. 

Nonprofessional “little theaters” from coast to 
coast have felt the pinch of war. Before the war, 
many towns depended on college or community 
little theaters for their only taste of flesh-and- 
blood drama. Well-established noncommercial 
groups like the Pasadena Community Playhouse 
in Pasadena, Calif., the University of Washing- 
ton’s Showboat and Penthouse Theaters in 
Seattle, and the College of the Pacific Little 



smash hit "Oklahomal" to smash hit "Bloomer Girl." 

Theatre in Stockton, Calif., have held on in spite 
of the shortage of males for casting and the com- 
petition from commercial road companies. 

T he manpower bugaboo put some crimps in the 
professional theater, too. The armed forces 
had more than 1,150 members from the New 
York roster of Actors’ Equity alone. “We lived 
in a cross-fire between the draft board and Hol- 
lywood,” says Broadway producer Brock Pem- 
berton, speaking of his road company of “Janie,” 
a play calling for several young men of military 
age. “Every time we’d get some man who was 
doing well in a part, the Army would grab him 
or Hollywood .would like his looks and steal 
him.” Hollywood has a manpower problem, too. 

pne young man “stolen” from Pemberton's 
“Janie,” which is no longer touring, is a perfect 
example of a str uggling player reaching stardom 
because of the manpower shortage. His name is 
Alfred Alderdice, but you may have seen him in 
the movies under the name of Tom Drake. There 
are many others getting breaks they might not 
have gotten otherwise because they’re below 
physical induction standards. 

On the other hand, the war-stimulated theater 
has been a boon to some old-timers who clung to 
show business through its lean years. The best 
example is Frank Fay, whose long career is al- 
most a personification of the stage’s history since 
the last war — more down than up. Fay is now at 
the peak of popularity in “Harvey,” a comedy 
about a timid fellow who pals around with a rab- 
bit that isn’t there. (Harvey is the rabbit's name.) 
Fay’s performance is ranked with those of Leo 
G. Carroll in “The Late George Apley” and 
Frddric March in “A Bell for Adano” as the best 
acting of the year. 

Finding material worth producing has been as 
neat a trick as finding somebody to play in it, 
with men like WO Irwin Shaw and Pvt. Wil- 
liam Saroyan overseas and - several other top- 
drawer writers in the service. The lack of mate- 
rial was reflected during the 1943-44 season by 



YANK Staff Writer 

S how people will never forget the year 1944. 
Thousands of men and women from the 
legitimate theater were overseas in uniform 
— actors and actresses, writers, scene designers, 
stage hands — and all looked back in wonderment 
at what war had done to their business. And well 
they might, because those remaining at work 
behind the footlights have hoisted stage plays to 
their greatest height of popularity since the 
movies started talking. 

Letters and newspapers from home told the 
story. On Broadway even bad shows were pack- 
ing ’em in. And on Main Streets from Butte, 
Mont., to Baton Rouge, La., war workers and 
farmers — the families of servicemen everywhere 
—were seeing their first stage shows in the old 
home town since the opry house was boarded up 
and bequeathed to the barn swallows. 

Bob Francis, legit editor of the Billboard, got 
down to cases with a comparative study of two 
wartime years, 1918 and 1944, and discovered 
that times do not ch'ange. During the 1943-44 
season on Broadway there were 41 comedies, 30 
straight dramas, 25 musicals, four melodramas, 
one farce, three spectacles and two variety shows. 
Seventeen of the straight dramas and five of the 
musical shows had a war slant. Now check this 
line-up against that of 1918-19 when there were 
41 comedies, 31 straight dramas, 26 musicals, 12 
melodramas, five farces and four spectacles. Fif- 
teen dramas and nine musicals had war plots. 

Everybody expected the New York theater to 
piclT up during the war, on the basis of what hap- 
pened in 1917-18, but probably even the most 
optimistic producers didn’t dare hope that in one 
year 90 road companies would be playing to 
standees in reconverted movie houses, Odd Fel- 
lows Halls, civic centers and high-school audi- 
toriums from one end of the country to the other. 
During 1944 there was an average of 35 com- 
panies on the road every week, with everything 
from “Abie’s Irish Rose” and “Tobacco Road” to 
"The Merry Widow” and Katherine Dunham’s 
“Tropical Revue." The show that probably more 
towns saw than any other was the cqmedy “Kiss 
and Tell." At one time there were three “Kiss” 
companies on the road besides the one that has 
been in New York nearly two years. 

Many shows played split weeks and one-night 
stands in such houses as the Coliseum in Sioux 
Falls, S. Dak.; the Convention Hall in Enid, Okla.; 
the Lyceum in Minneapolis, Minn.; the Orpheum 
in Sioux City, Iowa; the State in Winston-Salem. 
N. C.; the Union High School Auditorium in 
Salinas, Calif.; the Capitol in Yakima, Wash.; the 
Fargo in Fargo, N. Dak.; the Chief in Colorado 
Springs, Colo.; and the University of Wyoming 
Auditorium in Laramie, Wyo. 

There are easier ways to make a living in these 
times than by going on tour. But travel troubles 
notwithstanding, Chicago had 32 shows in nine 
theaters in the 1943-44 season. Their combined 
runs totaled 280 weeks, a 10-year record for Chi- 
cago. Philadelphia had three houses running most 
of the year; they didn’t even take a break during 
Lent. In Minneapolis, Lee Murray booked 11 
touring shows into the Lyceum Theater in an 
eight-month season. 

A typical touring troupe was the “Coast” com- 
pany of “Kiss and Tell.” The cast traveled 14,768 
miles in 35 weeks and played an average of more 
than one performance per day. The trip covered 
20 states. Often- the performers lost track of 
where they were. Actress Mary Jackson said she 
would wake up in the morning and pick up the 




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- — - — — 



\ 






the decision of the New York Drama Critics 
Circle that no play of American authorship was 
worthy of its annual award. For the same reason 
the Pulitzer Prize committee omitted its drama 
award and instead gave a special prize to Rich- 
ard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein 2d for their 
musical show, “Oklahoma!” 

‘Oklahoma!” which has been a smash hit since 
it opened nearly two years ago, popularized the 
introduction of ballet in otherwise standard mu- 
sical shows. Other musicals with ballet sequences 
playing on Broadway by the end of 1944 were 
“One Touch of Venus," “Carmen Jones,” “Follow 
the Girls,” “Bloomer Girl,” “Sadie Thompson,” 
“Seven Lively Arts” and “On the Town.” 

Only two serious war plays really caught the 
public’s fancy — “Tjie Eve of St. Mark,” Max- 
wel] Anderson’s drama of two seasons ago about 
a doomed platoon in the Pacific, and Paul Os- 
born’s recent dramatization of “A Bell for 
Adano,” the novel by war correspondent John 
.Hersey about the American Military Government 
in a Sicilian village. Other war plays came and 
faltered, partly because they were full of guff 
about the Army and Navy which audiences knew 
was phony. Notable exceptions were Moss Hart’s 
“Winged Victory" and Irving Berlin’s world- 
touring “This Is the Army,” both with soldier 
casts for Army Emergency Relief. 

The best comedy about a soldier is not really 
a war play. It is “The Voice of the Turtle," whose 
cast has just three persons — Betty Field (who re- 
placed Margaret Sullavan), Elliott Nugent and 
Audrey Christie. It covers the adventures of a 
GI stood up by his date on a week-end pass. 

In Boston,' where the novels “Strange Fruit” 
and “Forever Amber” were banned, the censor 
previewed “Men to the Sea," a play about Navy 
wives in a Brooklyn rooming house. He called the 
story “unedifying and apart from the truth” and 
ordered 80 cuts in the dialogue or no show. The 
play then did sell-out business in Boston. But 
when it came to New York, even with all of its 
lines restored, it lasted only 24 performances. 

Show people usually figure that if a play or 
musical sticks out 100 performances on Broad- 
way, it is enough of a hit to make money. From 
May 1, 1943, to Apr. 30, 1944, New York had 64 
new shows. Only 19 of these survived the 100- 
performance mark. They made money; 45 did not. 

In spite of all the hazards, Broadway’s .biggest 
problem — finding an “angel” to back a play — has 
almost evaporated. It seemed as if everybody 
wanted to put some money into a Broadway 
show, and no wonder. 

“Life With Father,” now in its sixth year on 
Broadway, has grossed almost $8 million from its 
New York and road companies. More than two 
million people have seen it in New York and .an- 
other three million have seen the touring casts. 
When “Arsenic and Old Lace” closed last June 



after 1,440 Broadway performances, the books 
showed a take of about $4 million from New York 
and road companies. 

The musical “Bloomer Girl” played a three- 
week break-in run in Philadelphia and created 
such a ticket scramble that there was a $100,000 
sale before opening night in New York, for which 
seats were priced at $9. But this record did not 
last long. Billy Rose, who reclaimed the Ziegfeld 
Theater from the movies and used it to house his 
“Seven Lively Arts,” reported an advance sale 
of $500,000. Opening-night top price for this ex- 
travagant revue was $24, which also entitled the 
customers to sip free champagne between the acts. 

Rose also set some precedents with “Carmen 
Jones,” his lavish modernized version of the 
opera “Carmen.” This production long ago passed 
the Metropolitan’s record of 219 performances of 
the original opera, and in 13 months in the largest 
legitimate house on Broadway it grossed more 
than $1 million on a $230,000 investment. 

Sudden mass enthusiasm for 
the theater has brought big 
changes in the character of the 
audience. It’s not the “carriage 
trade” any more. Women come 
in slacks, and men sometimes 
show up in shirt-sleeves or wind- 
breakers, right from their shift 
at some war plant. Many people 
are now seeing stage plays who 
never wanted to before or could 
not afford to. Some, who had 
never been to anything but movie 
houses, haven’t liked the re- 
served-seat idea. They figure first 
come, first served, and if the 
SRO sign is out they want to 
know when the next show begins. 

T oday’s audiences also include 
thousands of servicemen. 

Every day the American Thea- 
ter Wing gives away from 750 
to 1,000 seats to New York’s 
stage shows. This is the same 
organization that has set up 
seven Stage Door Canteens in 
the States and one in London. 

The ATW has also sponsored 
overseas productions like Kath- 
arine Cornell’s “Barrets of Wim- 
pole Street,” 

Other theatrical entertainment 
committees have sent profes- 
sional players, usually girls, to 
overseas bases where they form 
the nucleus of casts for shows 
staged by soldiers. Italy and 
North Africa have had such a 
troupe, and GIs in the Aleutians 



have seen “The Doughgirls” and “Kiss and Tell.” 
Some actors in the service have been able to 
continue in the entertainment field on behalf of 
the troops. Maj. Maurice Evans, the outstanding 
Shakespearean actor in America, has trouped 
through Hawaiian bases with a Shakespearean 
repertoire. Once, after a performance of “Ham- 
let,” a colonel who wanted to say something nice 
about the show, told Evans; “I certainly enjoyed 
your acting. What did you do in civilian life?” 
Show people in the armed forces are ‘hoping 
just as hard as those now working that the mo- 
mentum built up by the legitimate theater dur- 
ing wartime will keep the industry rolling in 
high gear for a long time after the war. This is a 
tall order, because cut-backs in war industries 
have already begun to slow theater activities in a 
few isolated cases. Optimistic producers, how- 
ever, believe the stage will continue to draw heav- 
ily for at least five to seven years after the war, 
but they say the shows will have to be topnotch. 

Veteran Frank Fay wows Broadway in "Harvey," a 
play about an invisible rabbit. 






the lead role of Major Joppo'c >n "A Belt 
AMO in Sicily adapted rom the navel. 



Every musical seems to have a Pallet numbw In “.Sadie Thompson," song-and-dance 
version of "Rain," Milada Mlaacvu (e nils/; iovo -jJ y/ith ballet in a South Seas setting. 





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reak -Through Tales 




'ARMY OF OCCUPATION' 

By Sgt. ED CUNNINGHAM 
YANK Staff Correspondent 

W ith the 84th Division — Back at the stag- 
ing area PX last September, a couple of 
station-complement noncoms gave some 
GIs from the 84th Division a tip. The noncoms, 
growing expansive after several free beers set up 
by their listeners, assured the 84th men they 
didn’t have to wonder any more about what was 
in store for them in Europe. 

"You guys don’t have to worry about noUwng,” 
a tech sergeant told them. “No bullets or bayonets 
or any of that stuff. You’re gonna be part of the 
Army of Occupation. We got it straight from 
headquarters.” 

Faces dropped several feet at Ihe casual men- 
tion of Army of Occupation. “Hell,” the tech ser- 
geant continued reassuringly, “you got a good 
deal. Germany’s got plenty of good beer, and the 
Army’s gonna put on a big sports and education 



several motorcycles and jeeps, and 80 infantry- 
men tried to break through into the little village 
of Menil, defended by Company I of the 333d 
Regiment. With tanks clearing the~way, the Ger- 
mans swept up the road toward the village, con- 
fident they had the American Army on the run. 

But the crew of the lead tank hadn’t figured on 
the (jaisy chain of antitank mines which the Yanks 
had stretched across the road. When the lead tank 
exploded and careened into a ditch, the tanks and 
half-tracks following it tried frantically to re- 
verse their field. That caused just enough delay 
for bazookamen, hidden in foxholes along the 
road, to take care of the second and third tanks. 

Pfc. Clarence E. Love of Cherry Valley, Ark., 
and Pfc. Alex V. Tiler of Paris, Tenn., set one 
afire, while Pfc. Carl R. Tisdale of Pataskala, 
Ohio, and Pfc. Robert C. Halloway of Inglewood, 
Calif., blew the tracks off another Jerry armored 
vehicle. Firing his bazooka without assistance, 
Sgt. James M. Scanlan of Danville, Ky., hit a 
fourth tank, which staggered into another Yank 
mine field and blew itself to hell. 

Meanwhile a second wave of enemy tanks 
started surging ahead toward Company I’s lines. 



An American second lieutenant saw two German 
infantrymen standing over a foxhole ready to 
shoot one of his men. He called S/Sgt. Joseph S 
Wagner of West Conshoh'ocken, Pa., and they 
jumped the Jerries with carbines, killing both. 

Then the lieutenant spotted a tank in the sec- 
ond wave stopping to pick up three Krauts from 
a disabled tank. He jumped out of his foxhole 
and threw three bull’s-eyes with hand grenades, 
wounding all three Jerries. But, before he could 
get back to his hole, he was killed by machine- 
gun fire from an enemy half-track. 

The second wave of tanks was now running 
through Company I’s positions. One hit another 
daisy chain and exploded. The next one bypassed 
the mines, only to veer off square into the line 
of fire of a bazooka manned by Sgt. Jesse Ten- 
penny of Morrison, Tenn.. and Pvt. Stephen Theil 
of Beaver. Pa. That made an even half dozen. 

Two enemy half-tracks then tried to run the 
gantlet, but Sgt. Scanlan. the one-man bazooka 
crew, took care of the first one: it careened into 
another mine field where it exploded. His- second 
hit caused the other half-track to burst into 
flames. Two German motorcyclists then started 



program to keep you occupied. You guys hit just 
the right time, when all the fighting’s finished.” 

Riflemen of the 84th, slogging through the 
ankle-deep snow and slush on the steep slopes 
of the Ardennes to flush out pockets of Jerries 
left behind by advancing American tanks, take a 
dim view of such stories these days. Back on the 
offensive again after helping stem the German 
mid-December drive toward the Meuse River, 
they have a few stories of their own to tell. 

To begin with, there’s the running account of 
the division’s first month of action. Attacking for 
the first time on Nov. 18, 1944, the 84th hit the 
pillbox-defended town of Prummern. Germany, 
in one of the strongest sectors of the Siegfried 
Line. They took the town in six hours. Next day, 
the Railsplitters captured the German stronghold 
of Ircher and .the adjoining town of Suggerath. 
Moving on, they took Lindfern, Beeck, Leiffarth, 
Wurm and completed their month’s work on 
Dec. 18 by capturing Mullendorf. 

The day before the fall of Mullendorf, Field 
Marshal Karl von Rundstedt started his counter- 
offensive against the weak side of the Allied line 
in the fir-treed hills of the Ardennes region. The 
84th was one of the first American divisions 
shifted southward to meet the German thrust to- 
ward Liege and the Meuse River. Brig. Gen. A. 
R. Bolling of Washington, D. C., commanding gen- 
eral of the 84th, was ordered to occupy and hold 
the town of Marche, hub point of the road net 
which controlled the highways leading west to 
the vital Meuse cities of Dinant and Namur. 

A German force of eight tanks, 10 half-tracks, 

PAG c 10 




Ordnance GIs work an a naw Tiger lank captured in Germany. This new type is known as the King Tiger. 




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YANK The Army Weekly • FEB. 2, 1945 




The first impact of the Kraut counteroffensive 
gave the infantrymen of the 84th Division and 
some Cub pilots plenty to do and to talk about . 



A. Wheremore of Windham, N. Y.; Cpl. Alfred E. 
Sothern of Boise, Idaho, ancf Pvt. John Biernachi 
of Worcester, Mass. 

There are other stories 84th men could tell 
about their Army of Occupation duties, like the 
three medics who stayed behind with 18 wounded 
men when curtains of enemy artillery and smalls 
arms fire prevented the removal of the casualties 
from a town given up by a battalion of the 84th. 
Or like the two 81-mm mortar squads who beat 
off an attack by 150 German infantrymen near 
Hampteau. For an Army of Occupation, the 84th 
figures it’s keeping pretty well occupied. 



By Sgt. BILL DAVIDSON 
YANK Staff Correspondent 

iege, Belgium — It was the night of our first big 
retreat in Western Europe, when the Ger- 
■ mans pushed their counteroffensive wedge 



popping off at Scanlan with machine pistols, so 
he ducked, grabbed a couple of grenades and let 
them fly. Both Krauts were blown to shreds. 

By now, after 30 minutes of furious fighting, 
the Jerries had had enough of I Company. They 
took off toward a patch of woods up on a nearby 
hill. But I Company hadn’t had enough of the 
Jerries. They radioed back for a little artillery 
assistance. When the barrage was finished, I Com- 
pany went up to clean out what was left. There 
wasn’t much. They found 17. more enemy vehicles 
which had been knocked out by artillery as well 
as some badly frightened Germans. 

Company I’s casualty list for the action was one 
killed — a lieutenant — and several wounded. 



between Stavelot and St. Vith. 

Nobody in the little cafe was talking very 
much; the sense of defeat was heavy on every- 
one, and we felt the shame of taking refuge here 
so far behind the lines. We remembered the 
faces of the civilians we’d passed as we headed 
westward, and the Luftwaffe strafing, and the 
woman with the laughing little boy and girl who 
said quietly: “Please take these children with you; 
they’re Jewish.” 

There were hushed civilians in the cafe, and 
Piper Cub pilots wearing wings and the insignia 
of the Artillery. The pilots came from different 
divisions. Tomorrow those who still had planes 
would fly back and try to locate their outfits. 

“It’s funny,” said a little captain with a South- 



so they piled down into the cellar. A German 
came up to the front door and blew it open with 
a blast of his machine pistol, and then more Ger- 
mans broke into the house. They ransacked the 
Americans' personal belongings and helped them- 
selves to souvenirs, especially helmets, flight 
jackets and 45s. 

Then the Germans decided to go down into the 
cellar to look around for cognac. The cellar door 
stuck. A German kicked it open and started down 
the steps. At this point there was a crash out- 
side, followed rapidly by three others. The Ger- 
man ran back up the steps, and he and the others 
piled out of the house. American artillery was 
firing on the nearby field, destroying the Cubs 
so they wouldn't fall into enemy hands. The Ger- 
mans took off, and the Americans beat it out of 
the cellar and somehow found their way to safety. 

O ver in a corner, a captain named Stevenson 
was talking quietly to a Belgian girl. That 
afternoon he'd been flying a general out of the 
danger zone when he spotted a column of enemy 
tanks. He flew to a Ninth Air Force base and 
gave the group-operations officer the location of 
the Germans. A squadron of Thunderbolts caught 
the Panzers on an open road and clobbered them 
with 500-pound bombs 

Over at another table, surrounded by Cub pi- 
lots, sat two crew chiefs. One was T-3 John Watts, 
an oilfield worker from Shreveport, La. At home 
years ago Watts had fooled around with a Cub on 
Sundays. The afternoon of the break-through 
Watts’ outfit was in danger. Some planes had 
been flown out, but there Were not enough pilots, 
and it looked as if two Cubs would have to be 
left behind. Watts went up to his CO, Capt. How- 
ard Cunningham of St. Petersburg, Fla. 

“I’ll fly one of the planes out, sir,” he said. 
“I can’t give you permission to do that.” 

Watts looked at the captain. ‘Turn your back, 
sir, and you won’t know anything about it.” . 

“I just remembered,” the captain said, walking 
away, “I’ve got to make a telephone call.” 

Watts barely missed a tree on the take-off and 
he flew stiff and nervous, but he got there. 

Ten minutes after Watts left, T-3 Marvin Pier- 
ick of Highland, Wis., who had flown an old Cub 
exactly 35 hours while he was stationed near 
Paris, Tex., took off in another ship. It was almost 
dark when he hit the other field. The first time 
he tried to land he had to take off again. Coming 
back for another pass, he made it. “I was just 
trying tq get a second landing in," he said. 



A s^for the noncom's story about the 84th being 
i 'part of the Army of Occupation, it was a 
trifle premature, according to five members of a 
recon patrol who wandered around behind enemy 
lines after the German break-through. Taking off 
■in a jeep to patrol the area south of Marche, they 
made a swing of 50 miles, 20 of them behind the 
Jerry lines. That night at dusk, the patrol headed 
back. Less than a mile from their outfit, they ran 
into a German roadblock which forced them to 
go back toward enemy positions. 

They were driving along the main highway 
when they spotted a Jerry convoy coming toward 
them. Pulling off into the underbrush at the side 
of the road, the five 84th men watched in amaze- 
ment as the convoy passed them, for in it were 
U. S. jeeps, half-tracks, weapons carriers, com- 
mand cars, six-by-sixes — every type of U. S. 
Army vehicle but scout cars and tank destroyers. 

When it was dark enough, the five GIs headed 
toward the front and their own lines. After sev- 
eral hours, they decided to pull off the road again 
and hide out. They sat there for hours without 
daring to sleep, as enemy convoys continued roll- 
ing toward the front. 

After much discussion, the recon patrolmen de- 
cided it was best to try to get back on foot. So, 
booby-trapping their jeep and burying their other 
equipment, they took off. Right off the bat they 
almost ran into the arms of a German patrol 
That narrow escape convinced them that they 
should lie low. While German units moved within 
a few yards of them, they slept in the snow, with- 
out blankets. When fighting broke out in the 
nearby woods, they crawled into the shelter of 
a barn. There they rested, eating rotten potatoes 
they had found there when their rations were 
exhausted. When the battle ended with an Ameri- 
can tank force capturing the woods, five cold, 
hungry, tired recon men walked into a U. S. out- 
post and got transportation to their outfit. 

Sgt. O. A. Tripken of Bakersfield, Calif., was 
the NCO in charge of the patrol, which included 
Sgt. Charles Peoples of Partridge, Kans. ; Cpl. O. 



ern accent. “We were all in the sack in those two 
nice little houses we’d fixed up near the front 
line when Riffle [S/Sgt. Francis Riffle] came run- 
ning in. And do you know what he said?” 
Nobody knew what Riffle had said, so the little 
captain went on. “He said. There are engineers 
digging in the front yard.’ I looked out and, sure 
enough, engineers were out there digging fox- 
holes. Then I got on the phone to the 



In the cafe the two sergeants sat drinking beer 
with the pilots. There wasn’t much conversation 
any more, but when Pierick said he wished he 
had a cigar, one of the lieutenants got up and 
bought a stringy black one from the proprietor 
for 1,200 francs. “Thank you, sir,” Pierick said. 

Then everyone sat there and didn’t say any- 
thing for a long time. 




Battalion S-2 and he says he's been 
trying to get me and there are enemy 
tanks in the town on our right flank. 
Then he tells me there are enemy 
tanks in the town on our left flank. 
After that, 'there’s a pause on the 
phone and the S-2 sounds right tired. 
There are also,’ he says, ‘enemy para- 
troopers reported operating in the 
town where you are.' " 

The pilots-and the ground-crew GIs 
ran out into the cow-pasture field, the 
captain said, and piled everything 
that was movable into the little spot- 
ter planes. One by one the planes 
started to take off. 

As the Cubs headed down the stfip, 
a Tiger tank pulled into sight across a 
road. The tank halted uncertainly, as 
if it didn’t know what to make of the 
swarm of tiny aircraft, then opened 
fire with machine guns. At the same 
time mortar shells began to fall at the 
far end of the field. The planes headed 
right into the fire. There was nothing 
else they could do. Most' of them got 
off and made it to Liege. 

The pilots talked about another Cub 
outfit that hadn’t fared so well. “First 
thing we knew,” said a tall, thin-faced 
lieutenant from that outfit, “we heard 
someone yelling in German on the 
road outside our house.” 

The lieutenant’s men didn't even 
have a chance to get out of the house, 



The Germans helped themselves to helmets, flight jackets and ,45s. 




idiic uomain, uoogie-aigmzea / nnp://www.nainn;rusi.org/access_use^pa-googie 







4=yii* 



Ya ? k Fran « one of »he dummy wooden tanks erected by the Germans 

near Metz. It s a wooden frame wtth a dn.m-p.pe gun mounted on a cart. From a distance it looks realistic 



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, u - ' ’ ■■ ■ 

realistic a Doberman pinscher in 

Ul v FRSITY OF . HI ,ii 



Irving Chornus holds a hoop for H 
**•/ ,»9 the K-9 Corps, New Caledo 



ROCKET LANDING. An LCI in the first assault wave on Min- 
doro, the Philippines, lays down a rocket barrage on the shore. 



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: WOULD-BE WACS. In Puerto Rico, smiling Wac Sgt. Mary Lou Hayes passes out test papers to 
these four attractive young senoritas who have just volunteered to enlist in the" Women's Army Corps. 



VETERAN CHEF. Paul Vallee, 70, working in the Meti mess 
of S/Sgt. Louis Bruno, cooked for Gen. Pershing in last war 






TOKYO MILESTONE. This is the volcano Fujiyama as seen through the nose of a B-29 Supsrfi 
on its way to bomb Tokyo. Superfort crews make use of the volcano as a guide to the Jap capijjfl 



M g _ . BP S, ^ 

bit, he snapped the shutter of the camera until 
he had the entire secret on film. There was a 
rumbling outside. 

“We’re trapped!" screamed the blonde. 

Harry tore open the camera and slipped the 
exposed film into his pocket. He threw the Min- 
nesota female over his shoulder, grasped the bell 
ropes and began to climb. A siren shrieked, bells 
rang, the rat-tat-tat of a machine gun roared in 
the hollow chamber. He struggled through the 
ceiling toward a light above. As they were about 
to reach the surface, two evil faces with long 
mustaches appeared at the opening. The two 
mandarins! One of them held the ropes together 
and the other began to cut with his knife. He was 
still sawing away when Harry reached the top 
and climbed out into daylight. 

“What’s the matter. Bub?” said Harry. “Knife 
dull?” He spoke in the tone of voice used by MPs. 
There was another explosion. 

T hat was all Harry could stand. He awoke to 
the humdrum world of reality. The barracks 
was quiet and a gentle breeze blew through the 
window. In the distance could be heard the 
steady, faint thunder of airplane motors. The two 
strings on the mosquito net swayed aimlessly. 

Ten minutes passed and Bud Fendenkowitz 
stomped through the door, sweating and panting, 
his clothes covered with mud. In his hand was a 
helmet. He looked at Harry suspiciously. 

“How did you make it back so fast?” he asked. 
“Back from where, stupid? I’ve been sleeping.” 
Bud sat down on the next bunk in a daze, hel- 
met in hand, staring at Harry reverently. 

“Do you mean to tell me you slept through 
the alarm — the whole raid — all three passes the 
Jap bombers made over the field?” 

Bud stopped. There was no answer, so he con- 
tinued: “Well, they blew up an irrigation ditch 
and two empty revetments. Someone said your 
new pfc assistant from India bagged a Zero from 
the gun pit down by the armament shack.” 

Harry Bizzle lay on his back and said nothing. 
He took a knife from his pants pocket, flipped 
open the blade and with a quick stroke cut the 
two dangling strings from the center of the net. 






FIELD PROMOTIONS. Fifth Army noncomi are awarded commissions in Italy. In 
the re or are Lt. Donald R. Sprow, Lt. DeWitt H. French and It. Peter DeAugustine. 



male over his shoulder||'[ |"| 
and began to climb 

UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN 



PAGE 15 




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YANK Thm Army W—kly • FIB. 2, 1945 



RCAF Wings 

Dear Yank: 

Before I joined the Army I served in the Royal 
Canadian Air Force. Am I permitted to wear my 
Canadian wings on my Army uniform? If I am, 
where do I wear them in relation to my Air 
Corps wings? 

Hawaii — S/Sft. WILLIAM MORGAN 

• You may wear your RCAF wings on your Army uniform. 
Thoy should bo worn ovor tho right pocfcot of your blouso. If 
you woor both sots of wings art onco, tho AAF wings should 
be worn ovor tho loft pockot. 

Travel Pay 

Dear- Yank: 

In your report on the Demobilization Plan, you 
stated that Pfc. Fake received $100 mu*tering-out 
pay and $39.55 for travel pay. Just how was this 
travel pay figured and what is the basis for re- 
ceiving this extra pay? 

At our last administrative inspection we were 
told to line out all entries concerning travel pay 
when an enlisted man is discharged. The inspector 
claimed that travel pay is now unauthorized and 
all entries pertaining to travel pay were lined 
out and marked void. If this entry is marked void 
how can an enlisted man claim travel pay? This 
is very confusing to our service-record clerks and 
the rest of the squadron also. 

Holy " -lit Sgt. H. SCHFIN- 

*Al»o >ig m d by 5 Sgt. J. A. O odaw, SfH. M. N. Bridget, P. J. 
I enter , P. E. Raich*, and Cph. R. A. McGviftnmt, l. J. Parelfi. 

1 YANKS itatamenf was and is corract. Enlisted men who 
are discharged or released from active service stHI receive 
travel pay of 5 cents per mile as provided in AR 35-2560. 



Overseas Allotment 

Dear Yank: 

I am engaged to a French girl, and we plan 
on being married soon after hostilities with Ger- 
many have ceased. Will she, after marriage, be 
entitled to a dependency allotment? If so, will 
this allotment make any change in the depen- 
dency allotment which my mother has been get- 
ting up to now? 

Belgium -Pvt. M. A. WATTS 

1 Your bridn will receive a Clou A allowance of $50 a 
month. Tha fact that sha is not an American citizen and that 
she h living in a foreign country will have no bearing on her 
right to the allowance. There may be some delay in the pay- 
ment of the allowance because of currency restrictions, but 
in any case she will receive the full allowance from the date 
that you first apply. Your mother's allowance will continue 
after your marriage, and the two allowances will cost you a 
total of $27 per eionth. 

Loss of Pay- 

Dear Yank: 

Due to a series of unfortunate circumstances 
I was hospitalized for a venereal disease. In all, 
I was in the hospital for just 10 days. When I got 
my pay I found that my pay for the 10 days was 
forfeited because they claim that this time in 
the hospital is bad time. I do not understand that, 
because I was told that we would no longer lose 
any pay for this reason. Yet my orderly room in- 
sists that I am not entitled to pay for the time 1 
spent in the hospital. Are they right? 

Italy -{Nam. Withheld) 

B No, they aren't. Under prm.nl regulations [AR 35 1 440. 
17 Nov. 1944] "absence from ragulor dutim on occount of 
a venornal disease, whether or not dun to misconduct, will 
not cause loss of pay." So. your CO about getting th« deduc- 
tion refunded. 



Blue Discharge 

Dear Yank: 

I have been in trouble on a number of occa- 
sions and have served about four months in the 
guardhouse. I have heard all sorts of rumors 
which would indicate that I’ll probably get a 
blue discharge (without honor). Does this mean 
I can’t get in on the benefits of the GI Bill of 
Rights after I am discharged, as my buddies tell 
me? Just where do I stand? I had been planning 
on going back to school, and the free tuition 
would make a heck of a lot of difference. 

C.nfrol Pacific -1-5 HAROLD I. LESTER 

B If you got a blue discharge you will not forfait your right 
to tho benefits of th. GI Bill of Rights. Only veterans who 
receive dishonorable discharges are out of luck under that 
low. All other types of discharge entitle the holder to the 
benefits of the GI Bill of Rights. 

Mustering-Out Pay 

Dear Yank: 

In civilian life I was a tool maker in a plant 
making highly critical war goods. Recently the 
firm wrote the War Department requesting my 
discharge as an essential man. Apparently the 
discharge is going to come through, because I 
was shipped here from Alaska and I am mark- 
ing time waiting for all the papers to be put 
through. If I am discharged to take a job in an 
essential industry, will 1 get mustering-out pay. 
or am I out of luck? 

Comp Boole, CalH. -Pfc. JOSEPH LOWE 

B When a man is discharged to go into essentiol industry, 
he gefs no mustoring-oot pay if he has so toe d only ht the 
U. S. He does gel it if he has had overseas service [>?D Bul- 
letin 3 (1944)]. So you'll gut a poyment of $300. 



What’s Your 
Problem? 

Letters to this department should bear writer's 
full name, serial number and military address. 





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Casualties 



_k -C* 1 t* v ( rs " V fy/ ___ 

y — ->»■ 1 T 1 and wounded battle 
rN’f cases were sent back to 

M vj -i mm the States for treatment 

during December. The 
number of returned sick 
and wounded is npw so large that the Medical De- 
partment can no longer make it a policy to send 
patients to hospitals nearest their home towns. 

From now on. the Medical Department’s first 
concern will be to send the patient to the hos- 
pital best equipped to take care of his particular 
injury or sickness. If there is a choice of such 
hospitals, the patient will be sent to the one near- 
est his home town. 

Up to Dec. 21, U. S. combat casualties totaled 
638,139. This was an increase of 9,698 over the 
last announced total, covering the war through 
Dec. 14. Army casualties totaled 556,352 through 
Dec. 21, an increase of 8,529, and the Navy’s total 
was 81,787, an increase of 1,169 over the Dec. 14 
total. The Dec. 21 total breaks down as follows: 
Army — 103,991 killed, 326,127 wounded, 66,567 
missing, 59,667 prisoners. Navy — 31,332 killed, 
36,697 wounded, 9,277 missing, 4,481 prisoners. 

At the end of the first week of January the War 
Department had not received a complete state- 
ment of personnel and materiel losses resulting 
from the German drive which started Dec. 16. 

Cold-Weather Mask 

A new face mask for use of troops exposed to 
extremely cold weather will be issued soon by 
the Quartermaster Corps. It is made of water- 
repellent cotton sateen, lined with wool pile and 
felt, and has a movable flap to permit eating, 
drinking and smoking. 

The new mask takes the place of one that did 
not offer sufficient protection. At 40 below zero a 
10-mph wind will freeze an unprotected face with- 
in one minute. The new masks, tested for 40 min- 
utes at 40 below against a 20-mph wind, proved 
satisfactory. 

AAF Training Aid 

A full-sized bomber nose, complete with Norden 
bombsight, bombrack controls, switches and 
instruments, is one of the AAF’s training aids 
for student bombardiers. A movie film, recorded 



M ore than 30,000 sick 
and wounded battle 



on a screen and reflected in a mirror beneath the 
nose, gives the student rolling terrain on which 
to set the bombsight and release the bombs. The 
training device may be regulated as to speed and 
altitude, and bomb hits are recorded by points of 
light on the reflection. 

The trainer was made primarily to prepare 
bombardiers to use the Norden sight, but it is also 
used overseas to give bomber crews a preview of 
target runs before a mission. 

Correction 

It was stated in a recent issue of Yank that the 
38th Division was in Western Europe. The where- 
abouts of the 38th Division have not been offi- 
cially disclosed. 

New Speed Record 

A new transcontinental speed record was set by 
an Army Boeing strato-cruiser when it flew from 
Seattle, Wash., to Washington, D. C., a distance 
of 2,340 miles, in six hours and nine minutes. 
Average speed was about 380 mph. 

The plane is a transport counterpart of the 
B-29 Superfortress. The previous record was held 
by a Lockheed Constellation, which covered the 
distance in six hours and 57 minutes last April. 

Chinese Junk 

A QM salvage yard in China is making as 
much as $750,000 CN (Chinese currency) a 
month selling Army junk to the Chinese. An 
empty tin can brings more than can and con- 
tents would cost in the U. S. A No. 10 can now 
brings $180 CN. The Chinese make the cans 
into kitchen utensils, office supplies and lamps. 
A blown-out tire will bring $18,000 CN, or about 
$60 U. S., at open market exchange. From the 
tires Chinese make rickshaw tires, shoe soles 
or tires for horse carts. 

WAC Training 

The Women's Army Corps Training Center at 
Fort Des Moines, Iowa, is now the only one still 
operating in the U. S., following discontinuance of 
the center at Fort Oglethorpe, Ga. At one time 
there were five WAC centers in the country. 

Closing of the centers was brought about by 
WAC acceptance into Regular Army training 
channels as well as by reduction of enlistment 



quotas. Rather than build up mass WAC strength, 
the Army is now recruiting for specialists. 

More than 90,000 Wacs are on active duty, 
15,000 of them overseas. 

Mail Delayed in Europe 

Heavy movement of personnel and materiel in 
Western Europe, necessitated by the German 
drive, has caused a delay in the delivery of mail 
to soldiers in that theater. Delivery of Christmas 
packages was also delayed to some extent, but 
the Army Postal Service reports that of 62 mil- 
lion Christmas packages sent to men overseas, 
90 percent had been delivered before Dec. 25. 

Gl Shop Talk 

T-5 Eric Gunnar Gibson, Swedish immigrant 
boy of Chicago, 111., who was posthumously 
awarded the Medal of Honor for gallantry in 
Italy, has been given the Legion of Merit .... 
Antiaircraft gunners of the U. S. First Army 
have knocked down more than 500 enemy planes 
since D-Day .... Analysis of captured German 
flour shows that Nazi soldiers are getting bread 
bulked up with soybeans, corn and sawdust .... 
Quartermaster bakers in France now date their 
bread as a guide to mess officers .... This year 
Australia furnished more than $10(L million 
worth of food to American forces in the South- 
west Pacific .... Portable ice plants run under 
fire by quartermaster troops on the Anzio beach- 
head furnished hospitals with ice and cold- 
storage facilities .... Belgian and French con- 
cerns are manufacturing 60- and 81-mm mortars 
for U. S. forces on the Western Front .... The 
Army recently bought more than four million 
containers of cosmetics — for camouflaging fight- 
ing men's faces .... First U. S. service-club 
hostesses to serve in an active theater of war 
have arrived in Paris and Brussels. The women 
are hired by Special Services Division .... 
Pacific U. S. bombers are using captured Jap 
bomb's to attack enemy islands .... Three Ger- 
man prisoners convicted of rioting at Camp 
Chaffee, Ark., have been given 10-year prison 
terms .... Switzerland and Sweden will par- 
ticipate in an air-shuttle system to speed up 
letter mail to and from U. S. prisoners in Ger- 
many and Japan .... Incidence of tuberculosis 
in the Army has been cut to one-tenth of its 
rate in the first World War. 



YANK Is published weekly by Mm •■list *4 men ef the U. 8. Army * m 4 Is 
lee sals only to those In the snood services. Stsrios. features, • let ore* and 
ether material from YANK may be re grad ne e d If they are net restricted 
by law ar military regal at lens, provided proper credit Is given. release dates 
are observed and specific prior perm I ss lee has been •ranted for each Item 
te be reproduced. Entire contents copyrighted. IMS. by Cel. Franklin 8. 
For* berg and reviewed by II. 8. military censers. 

MAIN EDITORIAL OFFICE 
MS E. 42d STREET. NEW YORK 17, N. V.. U. 8. A. 

EDITORIAL STAFF 

Managing Editor, Sgt. Joe McCarthy. FA; Art director, Sgt. Arthur 
Weithas. DEML ; Assistant Manaalng Editor. 8«t. Justus Schletihauer. Inf.; 
Assistant Art Director. S«t. Ralph Stela, Med.: Pictures. Set. Lee Hotelier. 
Armd. ; Feature*. 8ft. Marlon Her •rove. FA: Sports. 8«t. Oan Poller. AAF; 
Overseas News. Set. Allan Ecker. #AF. 

Washington ; Sgt. Richard Paul. DEML. 

France-Britaia: Sgt. Mertc Miller, AAF; Sgt. Ourbia Horner. QMC: 
Sgt. Earl Ander s e n . AAF; Opl. Edmund Antrehus. Inf.; Sgt. Charles Brand. 



Australia-Phlllppines: Sgt. La Fayette Leekc. AAF; Sgt. Bill Alcine. 
Sip. Corps; CpI. George Sick. Inf.; Sgt. Douglas Bergstedt. OEML ; 
Sgt. Ralph Seyeo. AAF; Sgt. Marvin Fasig. Esgr.; Sgt. Oiek Hanley. AAF: 



YAil K 

THE ARMY WEEKLY 



AAF; Sgt. Howard Bredie Slg. Corps; Set. Francis Burke. AAF: Pfc. Pat 
Coffey. AAF; CpI. Jack Coggins. CA; Sgt. Ed. Cunningham. Inf.: Sgt. 
Bill Davidten. Inf.: Pvt. Howard Katzaader. CA; Sgt. Reginald Kenny. 



Stefanelli, Eng> . 

Central. South Pacific: Sgt. Larry McManus. CA; Pfe. George Burns. 
Slg. Corps; CpI. James Goble. Armd.: Pfc. Justin Gray. Ranger; Sgt. H 
N. Ollphaat, Engr.. Mason E. Pawlak CPhoM. USNR; Sgt. Bill Reed. 



Inf.; Sgt. Jack Rage. DEML: Sgt. Lon Wilson. Slg Corps. 

Wea l era Pacific: CpI. Tem O'Brien. Inf.; Sgt. Olltea Ferris. AAF. 
Italy: Sgt. Harry Slens. AAF; CpI. George Barrett. AAF: Sgt. Steve 
Oerry. DEML: Sgt. August Lech. AAF: Pfc. Carl Schwind. AAF: Sgt. J. 



Burma-lndla: Sgt. Paul Jchastei. AAF: Sgt. George J. Cerbeltiai. Slg. 
Corps: CpI. Jud Cook. OEML; Sgt. Dave Richardson. CA: Sgt. Leu Steu- 
men. DEML; Sgt. Walter Peters. DM. 

Alaska: Sgt. Ray Ouncaa. AAF: CpI. John Haverstiefc. CA. 

Iran- Iran: Sgt. Burtt Evan*. Inf. 



Middle East: Sgt. Robert McBrlnn. Slg. Corps. 
Brazil; Pfc. Nat Bodian, AAF. 

Bormuda: CpI. William Peae du Beis. 

Central Africa: Sgt. Kcaneth Abbott. AAF. 
Iceland : Sgt. John Moran, Inf. 

Newfou n dland : Sgt. Frank Bode. Slg. Corps. 
Navy: Donald Nugent 81c. 



Commanding OMcer: Cel. Franklin S. Fersberg. 

Eiecutive OMcer: Maj. Jack W. Weeks. 

Business Manager: Capt. North Bigbee. 

Supply OMeer: Cant. Gerald J. Reck. 

Overseas Bureau Officer* i France. MaJ. Charles L. Holt: Britain, Lt. H. 
Stshley Thompson ; Australia- Philippines. Maj. Harold B. Hawley; Central 
Pacific. Maj. Jesua Eppinger: Western Paclffe. Maj. Justus J. Creamer: Italy. 
Maj. Robert Strother : Burma -India. Capt. Harold A. Burroughs; Alaska. 
Capt. Harry R. Robert*: Iran. Lt. David Gaflll: Pea am a. Capt. Howard 
Carswell: Puerto Rice. Capt. Frank Gladsteae; Middle East. Capt. Knewtten 



I k i i* i z g : : by C, i O OQ I C 



Original from 







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Artist Becomes an Army Cook 
But Keeps on Painting 



Pvt Graham eyes paratroop sign longingly 






Paratroop Veteran , 18 
Wants Another Try 



DEVIL'S FIDDLE. That's the name Pfc Ernest Gc 
ner of Maxwell Field, Ala., gives to the musical 
strument he made from pie pans, cowbells and i • 



Digitized by 



K »lly Field, Tex.— Sgt. Tony Ciampa of Brook- 
lyn, who was a civilian artist and is now an 
Army cook, pursues both his callings here. He 
works his regular shift in the kitchen and spends 
his off-duty hours working on a mural, “Sermon 
on the Mount," which will be placed in the ves- 
tibule of the Catholic Chapel here. 

Ciampa, who studied art at the National Acad- 
emy of Design and the New York School of In- 
dustrial Art, was a package designer in the art 
department of the National Can Company before 
he entered the service. In his spare time he drew 
portraits and studied fine arts, because his ambi- 
tion was to paint religious subjects. 

On entering the Army, he was classified for 
general duty, shipped to a Puerto Rican base 
with his squadron and qualified as a cook while 
there. He painted a Biblical mural for a chapel at 
his base and had begun murals for several day 
rooms, but had to leave before any of the latter 
were finished. 

Germany Was a Cinch 

Fort Monmouth, N. J. — S/Sgt. Warren Mitchell 
of Morristown, N. J., completed 73 missions over 
Germany without a scratch and was convinced 
that he led a charmed life until he came home 
to Morristown on furlough from Sheppard Field, 
Tex. A car he was riding in skidded on a wet 
pavement, went into a spin and crashed into a 
tree. Mitchell, who suffered a split kneecap and 
other injuries, is now recuperating at the Fort 
Monmouth regional hospital. 



me I had to go home." Graham says. “But it was 
no go. They shipped me back to the States and I 
was discharged." After he had been sitting 
around home in his tweeds for three months, his 
18th birthday came around and, with it, a letter 
beginning: “Having submitted yourself to a local 
board composed of your neighbors . . .” Two 
weeks later he was at Camp Fannin, hut-hutting 
it as an Infantry rookie. 

His application for readmission into the Para- 
troops was held up because of his added height, 
but his battalion commander, Maj. Linn D. Gari- 
baldi, has endorsed the application and requested 
a waiver on his height. The letter is currently 
going “through channels,” and Graham feels he 
has at least an even chance of wearing again the 
paratrooper’s silver wings he always carries in his 
pocket. 

In addition to the wings, which he cannot wear, 
and the Purple Heart, which he will not wear 
(because “it was my own damned fault and I'm 
not proud of it"), the ex-sergeant holds the 
Asiatic-Pacific, American Defense and European- 
African-Middle Eastern Ribbons. The three 
bronze stars he wears are for the Aleutian, North 
African and Italian campaigns. In the latter he 
fought at Naples. Mt. Trochia, San Vittorio, the 
Rapido River and the Anzio beachhead. 

-Sgt. JAMES C. ANDERSON 



C amp Fannin, Tex. — Pvt. Foster J. Graham, 18, 
now taking infantry basic in Company A of 
(he 59th Battalion, would like to get into the 
Paratroops, but he’s 1% inches too tall. He was at 
least two inches shorter when he was 16, he says, 
but the two years he spent in the Paratroops 
stretched him a little. 

This, incidentally, is Graham’s third course of 
basic training. Between his second and third ba- 
sics he got three campaign ribbons, three bronze 
stars, the Purple Heart, a sergeancy, a discharge 
and a 1-A classification from his local draft 
board in Chicago, 111. 

In September 1942, a month after his 16th 
birthday, Graham managed to enlist in the Army 
and was assigned to the Field Artillery. He fin- 
ished basic in that branch and transferred to the 
Paratroops, where he took basic and participated 
in maneuvers. 

Graham's mother accepted her son’s being in 
the Army, despite his youth, so long as he was 
‘safe. When he stopped a German shell at Anzio, 
howbver, she decided that enough was enough, 
so she wrote to the War Department and asked 
for his discharge. 

"I saw everyone in our division, from the Old 
Man down to the latrine orderly, when they told 




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YANK The Army Weekly • FEB. 1. 1945 



Guidebook With Stripes 

Fort Sumnor AAF, N. Max. — A G-I talking to Cpl. 
Sam Levinson of Brooklyn, N. Y., happened to 
mention that his own home town was Salem, 
Oreg. 

"Nice place, Salem," ^aid Sam. "Population 
around 30,900; state capital; in Marion County; 
two railroad stations and an airport; manufac- 
tures airplane linen material, wood boxes, paper, 
paper products and woolen goods.” 

“When were you in Salem?” asked the other 
soldier. 

“Never been within a thousand miles of the 
place,” said Sam. 

Levinson has been confusing people in this 
fashion for some time. As an economics and ac- 
counting student at St. John’s University in 
Brooklyn, he used to read encyclopedias, atlases 
and textbooks the way the average guy reads a 
newspaper. Today Levinson can reel off the pop- 
ulation, area, location and main industries of al- 
most every fair-sized city in America as casually 
as if he were telling you his name, rank and 
serial number. Despite all this, he maintains that 
he is no bookworm and he is proud of his inter- 
est in sports. 

His job at Sumner is exactly what you might 
expect it to be. He’s a clerk in finance. 

Supreme Court to Army 

Comp Standing, Fla.— -Pvt. John A. Kenning of 
the Infantry Replacement Center has a yen for 
the days when he was an important figure in the 
U. S. Supreme Court. 

Though still a young man, Kenning has had 
long experience in the proceedings of the Su- 
preme Court. A native of Germantown, Pa., Ken- 
ning went to Washington some years ago as an 
office boy in the Administrative Office of U. S. 
Courts and worked his way up through a line of 
clerkships to the position of deputy marshal and 
crier. It was his function to open the court with 
a ringing cry. "Oyez, oyez!” 

Kenning expects to go back to his old job after 
the war, “But,” he says, “I wouldn’t be much 
good at crying 'Oyez' now. I'm rusty. Too much 
Hup, two, three, foah.’ ” 



ROLL OUT THE BARREL 

Hq. Co. Southeastern Sector, Raleigh, N. C. - 

When some "X" clothing was issued here, T-3 Ray- 
mond Cassinelll spent on hour ond a half trying on 
trousers without finding a pair to fit. When Cassi- 
nelli, discouraged, went looking for the trousers he 
hod worn in, they were gone. They’d been snapped 
up by one of the other bargain hunters. 

-Sgt. IRVING ROCKMORE 



WITH MEN WHO KNOW- 

McGuire General Hospital, Va.— The cigarette 
shortage doesn't bother Pfc. Angelo Tobacco of 
Yonkers, N. Y. "Let 'em keep their cigarettes," says 
Tobacco, "I smoke stogies." 



Big-Mouth Champion 

Langley Field, Va. — Cpl. Leonard Hanstein’s 
friends say that he has the biggest mouth of 
any guy in the Army. He earned enough with it 
at banquets and on the stage to enter Southern 
Methodist University for a course in communica- 
tions engineering. 

Put four GI flashlight batteries in Cpl. Han- 
stein’s mouth and it measures inches across. 
It will also hold six ping-pong balls or 100 rounds 
of carbine ammunition at one time, and a full- 
size harmonica will fit snugly inside. Hanstein 
can place a lighted pipe back against his tonsils, 
and when gum wasn’t so scarce he thought noth- 
ing of chewing 102 pieces in one wad. 

Back home in Oklahoma City, Leonard went 
into training at the age of 6 by putting his thumb 
in his mouth and following it with the rest of his 
fist. He’s been featured on the radio in “Hobby 
Lobby” and in the movie short, “Strange as It 
Seems." Before coming to the AAFTC base at 
Langley, he performed in military installations 
at Dallas, Tex.; Palm Beach, Miami and Bora 
Baton, Fla., and Fort Sill, Okla. 

Right now he’s worrying because GI dentists 
have removed two of his teeth. Now when he 
puts four large hen’s eggs in his mouth his 
changed dentures sometimes crack the shells. 
“J’m not keen for that kind of scrambled eggs,” 
says Hanstein. , -pf c bob ensworth 

Training Convalescents 

Sioux Falls AAF, S. Dak.— The soldier in pajamas 
and red corduroy bathrobe spots his target, spins 
in his turret to line it up in the ring sight, pulls 
the trigger and “sends the enemy smoking out of 
the blue.” 

This is a daily routine in the convalescent- 
training room of the AAF Regional Station Hos- 
pital here, where a panoramic-gunnery trainer 
that originally belonged to the Navy is proving 
its worth both from a military and a therapeutic 
point of view. 

The device is mounted in a basic-training tur- 
ret that rotates, elevates and depresses*at the 
control of the operator. Earphones provide the 
simulated sound of plane engines for the student 
as he peers at a small screen on which is pro- 
jected planes flashing from all angles without 
warning. On the side of the film, hit-indicating 
marks register the shots fired and whether the 
target is correctly lined Up in the ring sight. 




Flora ASFTC Ordnance Plant, Miss. — When the 
librarian here sent opt a card for an overdue 
book, it came back marked “Soldier AWOL." 
Title of the book: “Farewell to Arms.” 

DoRidder AAB, La. — Pvt. James Conte of the 
Signal Section finished peeling potatoes and the 
cook told him to lug the pot containing them to 
the icebox. An hour later the cook saw the same 
pot in the same spot and roared belligerently at 
Conte: “Didn’t I tell you to put this in the ice- 
box?” “I was going to,” said Conte, "but the sign 
on the icebox door stopped me." The sign read, 
“KPS KEEP OUT.” 

Texarkana *OUTC, Tex. — In three months of 
shop training, the 625th Ordnance Base Automo- 
tive Unit here has reclaimed about $500,000 worth 
of materiel, according to Maj. Donald W. Curtis, 
shop chief. 

Camp Crowder, Mo. — There is no more mopping 
of floors in one barracks of Company I, 800th 
Signal Training Regiment. When Friday-night GI 
parties are held, the boys “swab the deck/’ The 
Navy lingo comes from 14 seamen who. as stu- 
dents of the Central Signal Corps School, share 
the barracks with the soldiers. Twelve Marine 
veterans are in another company of the same 
regiment. 

Scott Field, III. — Sgt. Harold L. Asen, who writes 
the “Behind the Hangar" column in the Broad- 
caster, reports this one: When S/Sgt. William 
Mansur of Section A had a money order to cash, 
the postal clerk told him he’d have to have some 
form of identification. “Have you a friend in 
camp?” asked the clerk. “I don’t know,” replied 
Mansur. “I’m a PT instructor." 

Sioux Falls AAF, S. Dak. — Five new magnetic-tape 
recorders have been installed at the AAF Train- 
ing Command Radio School so that students can 
hear their own hand-sending played back im- 
mediately after being recorded. The new instru- 
ments are expected to help men correct their er- 
rors better than the instructors can: the students 
have to transcribe their own sending. 

Eagle Pass AAF, Tex. — The new noncom assigned 
to promote ground safety on the field is Cpl. 
William F. Daniels of Kansas City, Kans. In 
civilian life he was a mortician. 

Camp Shanks, N. Y. — Cpl. Stan Bookstein of 
Barracks 76-21 bounded gaily into the station 
hospital to visit his buddy, Sgt. Harold Gold, and 
bolster his spirits. As Harry swung out of the 
bed to take the outstretched hand of his visitor, 
Stan’s trick knee buckled. When the doctor en- 
tered the ward a few minutes later, he found 
the visitor stretched out in bed and Gold stand- 
ing solicitously over him. The doctor then taped 
the knee so Bookstein could hobble on his way. 






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MAIL CALL 

This is something worth writing a poem about. 
This is something big with a capital B. 

This is laughter and death. 

Sorrow and joy, misery and ecstasy. 

This is everything that life is. 

Plus something like a miracle. 

This is all the poetry in the world — 

Yes, and all the music too — 

Carefully folded up> in odd-sized envelopes 
And handed but with a heart-jumping yell: 
“Atkinson! Balubowitz! Kelly!- 
Jones! Johnson! Schwartz!” — 

Every name called. 

And every name conspicuously not called. 

A poem. 

Yes, by God, a real poem. 

Try this: 

Melt all the poetry that ever was 
In one 'great sum of metric beauty 
Go ahead. 

It won’t hold a candle to this. 

This bright thing, 

This magic paper, 

Unbelievably touched by known hands. 

India -Me. JOHN I COOK 

THE BALLAD OF POOR JACK SALT 
This is a tale that was told me 
One night in a strange English town 
While I stood in queue for a bus that 
was due, 

And the wet English rain drizzled down: 

Jack Salt was his name. Arizona he hailed from. 
The Infantry claimed him. A mortar man, he 
Enlisted at 18. The towns he had mailed from 
Encircled the globe, were diverse as could be. 
For nearly three years Jack Salt followed the 
mortar 

To many far ports, over many a sea. 

But it troubled him little. Jack ne’er wanted 
quarter, 

Twas always the same thing he’d tell us: “You 
see. 

This place is no worse than the next place they’ll 
send us. 

No better’n the last, so I say, what the hell? 

Next station we ship to ain’t going to befriend us. 
It won’t be Arizona. It won’t suit me well!” 

That’s the way that he was. Jack took the Aleu- 
tians 

,In fdll stride. The South Seas could not put a sag 
In his grin, for wherever Jack did his ablutions 
Would do till the day he could pack up his bag 
And make for the States, where he’d lead to the 
altar 

His love, Arizona, and make her his wife. 



Last Christmas, still moving. Jack shipped past 
Gibraltar 

On a tub bound for Britain, and still full of life. 

When she docked it was raining and right from 
that minute 

Jack changed. He was never the same man again. 
“England!" he’d snarl, “I hate everything in it! 
For pete’s sake I can’t live much longer in rain!” 
And he didn’t. One night it cleared up for an 
hour 

After six days of rain — then it started to pour 
Harder than ever. Jack, looking more sour 
Than we’d ever seen him, stood there in the door. 

Staring out at it, he stood there for hours. 

We sat playing poker; at length we turned in. 
None of us sleeping, discussing the powers 
Of rain and the weeks we all had been churned in 
English mud. It was sdmetime past midnight we 
missed him. 

I flashlit the doorway and there Jack revolved 
On his heels, just outside, while the drenching 
rain kissed him 
On his wild, upturned face! 

And then 

Jack Salt 
dissolved! 

No Jack Salt sung out the next morning at roll 
call, 

(The rain was still falling) and none of us tried 
To tell the 'weird story (they marked him down 
AWOL; 

They carry him thus yet). They’d have said that 
we lied. 

But I found his dog tags on the spot where he’d 
melted, 

Twelve shillings in change and Jack’s battered 



green pen. 
Full of w 



water, no doubt from the rain that had 
pelted 

Its owner. We’ll never see Jack Salt again! 

And that was the tale that was told me 
One night in a strange English town 
While I stood in a queue for a bus that 
was due. 

And the wet English rain drizzled down. 

Irkain -Pvt DAN W. HARRINGTON 

ONLY THE BRAVE 

With bayonets they tortured him, 

They tied him to a tree, 

Hot coals they placed beneath his feet. 

And pulled his fingernails free. , 

They hung him up, just by his thumbs. 

His brow was damp with sweat, 

But he refused to tell them where 
He’d hidden his cigarettes. 

tritaia -eft ALBERT DEUINGER 



THESE ARE THE YEARS 

If you pause on the threshold of a year 
And wonder, had you not better wait 
Before you cross, the drag of doubt and fear 
Will slyly check your step and let the date 
Pass by. These are the changing years when faith 
Means most, and blessed are the strong in heart. 
These are the years when the hand of fate 
Is locked with yours across a board to start. 

And then the struggle till a hand goes down. 
Forever then, a slave. These are the years 
When surety's the ace and bluffs are thrown 
And conquerors oblivious to tears. 

Steel then your stride and meet it like a king — 
Step forward, you can master anything! 

SISU. lata Hoad. N. Y. -S*». HAROLD APPLEBAUM 

PORT OF EMBARKATION 

One would never think. 

Hearing the scratchy victrola 
And the laughter, 

That these men are soon to go. 

(The bent cigarette butt tufted with black ash 
At the bottom of the can. 

The pattern of the plywood wall 

Around the torn poster 

And the sensitive face across the table. 

Lips moving as he writes. 

Eyes pausing to follow the fly on the magazine, 
Eyes suddenly showing unfinished griefs.) 

One would never think 

They are to go so far from this room. 

(The row of light bulbs, 

The coke bottles. 

The sound of an American city nearby 
And, beyond the darkness, the ocean.) 

One would never think 

That some of them may not return. 

(The handprint on the window, 

The waterproof wristwatch, , 

The boy with the small, pale hands 
Tapping his fingers on the chair.) 

One would never think 

Of such things 

Or feel the ugly shudder 

If one were alone with only the beating of one's 
heart. 

If one did not hear them laughing. 

— T-4 STAN FUNK 












THE DEAD 

Pray do not weep for those who lie so still 
In shallow trenches; pity’s not for such. 

This valley where they fell is that much 
Greener, those flowers on that crest of hill 
Are tinted deep and lovelier where they bled. 
Yes, pity those who make the coward’s choice. 
Who heed the hob-nailed boot and guttural voice. 
Who calculate the odds, and live in dread. 

But when you think of valiant men who chose 
To fight, take courage, high resolve and pride 
That they were your kind; march with firm 
bold stride. 

With tearless eyes look up, as one who knows 
That mankind must, to gain Helds rich and bright. 
First take, at any cost, the rugged height 
Italy -Pvt. ISADORE RUBIN 



s 


Y 


A 


o 


D 


1 


N 


L 


1 


L 


R 


A 


N 


F 


M 


0 


J 


E 


K 


A 


D 


C 


1 


£ 


Y 



G et out that old ad- 
dress book — if 
you’ve still got it 
around— and check your 
total with this diagram. 
Here you can find the 
first names of at least 20 
girls. No telephone num- 
bers. See how many you 
can find. 

Start with any letter 
and spell out a name by 
moving in any direction 
—horizontally, vertically 
or diagonally — to an ad- 
joining square. Don't use the same square twice for 
any one name: you can repeat a letter if it occurs in 
different squares. 

Example: jalna — Start with J. move up to A. then 
diagonally up and right to L. then left to N. then 
diagonally up and right to A. 



T HE hair is blond, the eyes are blue and 
the name is Lizabeth Scott. Her other 
qualifications for pin-up immortalty are too 
obvious to mention in detail. She was a 
Walter Thornton model in New York for a 
while, but it didn't take long for Hollywood 
to spot her. Now she's on the West Coast, 
shaking her lovely head at movie cameras. 



. CROW-EATING DEPT. 

I F all the guys who tried futilely to make seme out 
of a recent Beer Bet problem involving three 
glasses (the middle one being upside down) will just 
try to forget the whole damn thing, they will win the 
eternal gratitude of a Sad Sack who is also trying 
to forget the thing but can't because of the letters 
that keep pouring in. — Funle Ed. 



ANAGRAMS 

T o play this, all you have to do is reshuffle the let- 
ters to form a new word. For instance, thing + K, 
rearranged, forms knight. 

Here are 20 tough ones. Can you solve them within 
two hours? Don’t peek at the answers. 

1. NAILS + G 6. LOADING -I- A 

2. SINEWS + T 7. POTATOES + M 

3. FERRY + A (. CHAINED + A 

4. SCYTHE + K 9. HARMONICA + S 

5. DOPESTER + O 10. SECTION + A 

HOW OLD IS MARY? 

T his brain teaser, by Sam Loyd, the puzzle king of 
the early 1900s. still manages to stump even the 
experts. 

Mary and Anne's ages combined total 44 years. 
Mary is twice as old as Anne was when Mary was 
half as old as Anne will be when Anne is three times 
as old as Mary was when Mary was three times as old 
as Anne. How- old is Mary? 



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V , 

'Bui the bulletin beard laid Hiii inspection was to be formal." 

—1»l Sgl. Dici Erictofl, Foci Tort#n, N. Y. 



THE RUBAIYAT OF MARGARET JANE TAGGS 

Awake! The hosts of Dawn have put to rout 
Night's misty legions; Brightness spreads about. 

The strident Whistle sounding urgently 
Conveys its Message “wake, arise, fall out!" 

The Moving Finger writes, and we may read 
The Future, so abidingly decreed; 

For the Duration and for Six Months more 
Our Piety and Wit is what we'll need. 

Though some may moan and in Dejection sit. 
While others, more rebellious, long to quit. 
Inexorably comes the Answer back: 

“This is the Army; you Girls asked for it.” 

Into the Corps we came, and why not knowing — . 
Except that we must serve, our Fervor showing; 

And in it we shall serve, beyond a Doubt, 
Although our Qualms are willy-nilly growing. 

Some on a Past of rare Refinement dwell. 

While others of a rosy Future tell; 

Yet many a Maiden, were the truth revealed. 
Believes one Man, at hand, would do as well. 

There’s little Comfort in the thought that Thou 
Art far away beneath some Foreign Bough, 

And if Thou hast a Jug of Wine besides, 

Thou art more fortunate than I am, now. 

Then let us to the nearest Tavern fly, 

Seek swift Forgetfulness in Gin and Rye; 

Alas, for us no Solace from the Grape — 

It is forbidden that a Wac get high. 

Though Roses bloom where buried Caesars bled 
And I shall nourish Daisies when I'm dead, 

The Dust I'll be concerns me not so much 
As Dust the CO found beneath my bed. 

The Past is dilft, the Future far from clear, 

But all we need to know is that we’re here. 

Our Part is to obey, to Forward March! 

Then, turning, march as briskly to the Rear. 

When Time brings to a Close this hectic Span. 
When Destiny unfolds another Plan, 

May One who goes this way, remembering. 
Turn down for me an empty GI Can. 

Wotbington. D. C. -V MAftCAMT JANE TAOOS 



Three Clerks 



T he coffee, slugged with cream, took on a defi- 
nite tinge of green. 

“Bring some of this back to the barracks,” 
said Cpl. Slurp, “and we'll write some letters.” 
“Ain't got paper.” said Pvt. Johnson, the ma- 
terialist. 

"Also," said Pvt. Gillespie, “there’s no use 
writing to anybody anyway. Everybody’s ship- 
ping out and who knows when we might be next 
and who can think of anything else to write 
and who wants to read in a letter about every- 
body shipping out?” 

"Nobody,” said Pvt. Johnson. 

The three clerks sipped their coffee with the 
customary hissing effects. 

"Gillespie’s barracks bags have been packed 
since 1943,” said Slurp. 

“A good soldier is always ready.” murmured 
Gillespie. 

“You ain't got coat hangers.” said Johnson. 
“Everybody knows you ain’t got coat hangers." 
“In the Infantry I won't need coat hangers,” 



PX 



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said Gillespie. “In the Infantry you carry all 
your clothes in a pack." 

“What makes you so sure it’s the Infantry?" 
asked Cpl. Slurp irritably. “Lots of fellows get 
shipped out without going into the Infantry.” 

“My feet have been aching every night so 1 
can't sleep,” said Gillespie. “1 got a hunch.’’ 

Cpl. Slurp spilled his coffee. ‘Take your 
damned hunches and ram them," he said, raising 
his voice. ‘They're not taking me in the . In- 
fantry.” 

"How do you know?" asked Johnson, who 
never spilled a cup of coffee in his life. “Nobody 
else knows." 

“He’s right," said Gilespie. “They won't take 
him. I saw his form in the orderly room, and 
it’s got disqualifications all the way down.” 

“I saw it in the shower," said Johnson, “and 
outside of that spread-out fanny he's in as good 
shape as anybody.” 

“You can’t tell by looking." grated Slurp. "I 
get headaches.” 

“You will,” agreed Johnson. “Bigger and better 
as time goes by.” ' 

“Let’s get out of here.” said Gillespie. 

In headquarters, a chubby Wac with spectacles 
was running off mimeograph forms. 

‘That the order with the Infantry shipment?” 
asked Slurp. 

She nodded disinterestedly and he picked a 
sheet off the machine. 

They were all there. 

“I told you, didn't I?” said Gillespie. “Didn't 




I tell you? Didn’t I warn you about the hunches? 
What a deal! All I’ve done for the Air Corps, 
they pasture me out You’re through; out you 
go — like that" He snapped his finger. 

“Lots of other guys," said Johnson. "What the 
hell." 

"Stupid. A mistake,” said Slurp. “What about 
my headaches. It'll kill me.” 

“And your big fanny,” said Johnson. “They’ll 
whittle it down to skin and bone. We’ll be able 
to 9ee around it What the hell, plenty guys get- 
ting it." 

The sergeant at Camp Howze looked at the 
latest shipment from the AAF with cold 
“Fine body of men," he muttered. "Give me 
civilians any time. And I could of been in 
Give me strength." 

He looked at a typical member of the 
tion. “Hey. glamor boy,” he said softly, 
back your shoulders and tuck in your wini 

“Never mind the cracks about my ear 
shot," growled the typical member. "You'i 
the only noncom around here." 

The sergeant opened his eyes to half-1 
"Give a look," he said with a groan. "Stf 
That’s all that flies around here, glamor boy.| 
fly all the time." 

Everybody drilled for two solid days. 

On the third day the sergeant called 
Slurp. “You like to keep that rating, corp 
he asked. 

“Sure, but not by killing myself with 
net," said Slurp. 

“You’re in luck,” said the sergeant, 
making you a clerk, so get out of here." 

‘‘My experience, I guess," said Slurp 
tively. 

“No," said the sergeant. 

“My headaches, maybe.” 

“Your fat butt," said the sergeant. “Drag 
out of here." 

Gillespie and Johnson watched Slurp 
away. Then they looked at each other and 
as one man. 

CrMiwood AAF. M.u. -1*1. IOKIT W CAHOON 

RETURN FROM FURLOUGH 

I have been gone 

These three weeks. 

Yet all is the same. 

All unchanged. 

The barracks hut is cold. 

The fires are dim. 

Only a slight flicker 

Reminds that men sleep here. 



Soon in the quiet land. 

Before the dawn. 

In th® shivering light; 

They will arise, dress. 

And yawning slowly 
Trudge off to the line. 

Hello, Nap. Back? 

How was it? 

But I am creeping too. 

In the darkness. 

And brightly lit streets 
Are only a shadow. 

Dancing women. 

Only a memory. 

Lincoln AAF, Nob, -Me. SAMUEL NAPAtSTBt 



"Oh, some cadet escaped from OCS." 

—Col Jom«» W. BatMin* Comp Lee, 



Je. Qri C 

VERT 



inal from 
Y OF MICHIGAN 







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YANK 

SPORTS 



YANK The Army Weekly • FEB. 2, 1945 



Al’s fighters swear by him, and with good 
reason. When the boxing champs went to Cairo 
last year, La Combe spent more than $1,000 of 
his dice winnings so they’d do all right in that 
inflation-hit city. If there are no trophies avail- 
able for his champs, A1 usually buys them with 
his own money. 

To fighters who get slugged in the eye and 
come around for sympathy, A1 says: “Youse 
migljta felt that blow in youah eye, but Ah 
felt it where it hoits most, right chere in mah 
haht.” And he places a reverent hand over his 
heart. The PGC's smoothest operator actually 
talks like that, in a rich mixture of Brooklynese 
and Irish Channel-New Orleans accents. Real 
Brooklyn boys won’t believe him when he says 
he’s never seen the place. He probably picked 
up the Brooklynese from fighters and managers 
who hung around promoter Lew Raymond’s 
New Orleans office, where A1 first went to work 
when he was 14., 

La Combe is a dapper fellow with sleek blue- 
black hair, a round face and innocent brown 
eyes. In an earlier day, he might have been a 
faro dealer on a Mississippi steamboat or a 
croupier in a New Orleans casino. As it is, he 
does all right with the slippery cubes; he's 
banked some $4,000 in winnings at the second- 
most popular GI pastime. He attributes his luck, 
both at dice and the fights, to a four-leaf clover 
he always carries in a cellophane case. His girl 
sent it to him. 

, The only pin-ups in Al’s headquarters, a 
smoke-filled Service Club office at Khorram- 
shahr, are of boxers, old and new, champs and 
never-weres. The place reeks of rubbing alco- 
hol; three GI trainers work over the boys every 
night. Just outside the Service Club is a well- 
lit, fenced-off training arena, with all kinds of 
boxing equipment. 

A few hundred yards away is the “Punch 
Bowl,” Khorramshahr’s new boxing stadium, 
which seats some 5,000 spectators. The former 
CG here, Maj. Gen. Donald Connolly, never 
missed the boxing tournament. Other distin- 
guished visitors to GI fights in this part of the 
world have included Foreign Secretary Eden 
and ex-Secretary of State Hull. 



By Sgt. BURTT EVANS 
YANK Staff Correspondent 

G ulf District, Iran — When T-4 Allen 
La Combe, the Tex Rickard of the Persian 
Gulf Command, got his greetings in New 
Orleans several years ago, his reaction was 
probably different from any selectee’s in the 
U. S. He threw a party for his draft board. 

The blow-out was held in a local night club 
where A1 had connections. There was a floor 
show, kegs of beer and inexhaustible supplies 
of liquor. A1 invited all the other sad civilians 
in his quota, too. Some brought their wives. So 
did some of the Selective Service officials. But 
this didn’t spoil the fun. Everybody imbibed 
freely and had a hell of a good time. In the 
small hours of the morning, selectees and draft- 
board members, sheep and butchers, went roar- 
ing home arm in arm, pledging beautiful 
friendships. It was an occasion New Orleans 
would long remember, as the papers pointed 
out next day. For La Combe, never a man to 
miss a trick, had not neglected to invite the 
news photographers. 

Even the Army hasn’t crimped La Combe's 
'style much. As manager of the “Flying Long- 
shoremen,” a group of GI boxers at the dusty 
Army port of Khorramshahr on the Persian 
Gulf, he made international news not long ago 
when he challenged S/Sgt. Joe Louis to fight 
one of the PGC champs. He’s still hearing from 
that one, still getting angry letters from GIs all 
over the world: “If Joe Louis ever goes to Iran, 
he’ll knock you and that bum of yours right 
into the middle of the post-war period.” 

A1 took nine PGC champions to Cairo last 
winter and won seven titles in the Middle East 
Championships. In the second annual PGC Box- 
ing Tournament, Al’s fighters from Khorram- 
shahr won eight out of nine titles. Now Al’s 
ready for Cairo again, or, better, the post- 
war bouts in Berlin. 

Promoting boxing in the PGC has its occupa- 
tional hazards. The tough GI stevedores at 
Khorramshahr hold La Combe personally re- 
sponsible for everything that happens at the 
bouts. Though he was promoter, manager of one 
of the teams and announcer, A1 had no respon- 
sibility for the judging or refereeing. But after 
one decision in the preliminaries the other 
night, A1 didn’t have a friend in camp. For 
three days he had to slip into the mess-hall 
kitchen unobserved to get something to eat. It 
seems the judges had awarded a close one to a 
fighter who also happened to be an MP. 



T-4 La Combe 



A ll of 23 years old today, A1 was known to 
New Orleans as the “Boy Promoter.” He 
made something of a name for himself running 
the New Orleans Turkey Bowl football game. 
He conceived the idea, promoted it for charity, 
setured flowers for the Queen of the Bowl, sold 
programs during the halves, announced most 
of the game and played left end during the 
fourth quarter. -r 

But La Combe’s promotional goose was almost 
cooked very early in his career when he staged 
a beauty contest to find “Miss Irish Channel” in 
New Orleans. The girls got talking together 
before the contest, and they found out A1 had 
promised each one that she would win. There' 
was a little trouble at first, but La Combe man- 
aged to pull through and the contest went off 
as scheduled. A1 was heaving a sigh of relief 
when the grandmother of a losing contestant 
bore down on him with an umbrella. His left 
ear still bears the scar. 



T he Merchant Marine has shifted En*. Charlie 
Keller from convoy duty in the Atlantic to 
Pacific waters. He’s a ship’s purser. . . . CpI. Roy 
(Beau) Bell, former Indians’, Browns’, Tigers’ and 
everybody’s outfielder, now has a Germany APO. 
. . Neither S/Sgt. Joe Louis nor S/Sgt. Joe DiMag- 

gio wears his overseas ribbons at public appear- 
ances, if that means anything. . . . Old-timers at 
West Point recall that Lt. Gen. George S. Potton 
Jr. broke his arm three times while playing foot- 
ball and busted his studies once. . . . Maj. Billy 
Southworth Jr., who completed 50 missions over 
Germany in B-17s, is now flying a B-29 and 
headed for you-know-where. . . . Frenchman 
Marcel Thil, the ex-middleweight champion, was 
twice decorated for his work with the FF1. He is 
now in the coal and wood business and serves 
as a part-time athletic instructor for the French 
Army. ... If his eyes are strong enough, "Par- 
son" Gil Dodds, the U. S. mile champ, will go to 
sea as Navy chaplain instead of doing missionary 
work in China. . . . Lt. Cornelius Warmerdajn will 
be shipping out soon as an athletic officer aboard 
an aircraft carrier. Also shipping: CPO Don Dur- 
dan, Oregon State’s Rose Bowl hero against 
Duke, who starred with Bainbridge in 1944. 
Killed in action: Pvt. Ed Stecz, former Temple 



football ace, in Germany; Lt. Tom Wilson, son of 
baseball’s Jimmy Wilson, in the Pacific after 
previously being reported missing from a B-29 
mission; Lt. Richard Schmon, former Princeton 
football captain, in France. . . . Wounded in ac- 
tion: Sgt. Hector Kilrea, who starred with Detroit 
and Toronto in the National Hockey League, in 
France when machine-gun fire hit him in the 
leg and hand. . . . Commissioned: CPO Bob Olin, 
one-time light heavyweight boxing champion, 
as an ensign in the Merchant Marine. . . . Pro- 
moted: Lt. Cmdr. Matty Bell, SMU’s former coach, 
as a full commander at the Georgia Navy Pre- 
Flight School. . . . Discharged : Lt. Col. Tuss Mc- 
Laughry, Dartmouth football coach in 1941-42, 
from the Marines because he is over age. . . . 
Ordered for induction: Mel Queen, 26-year-old 
Yankee pitcher, and Clyde (Bulldog) Turner, Chi- 
cago Bears’ center, both by the Army. . . . Ap- 
pointed: Earl (Jug) Girard, Wisconsin’s running 
and passing star, to West Point. 



BOXING LESSON. This bit of business with an open 
alovs was one of the few tricks CpI. Fritiie Zivic 
silk- teed i-'.i sol boy Billy Arnold during their eight- 
rocv' beef d Mw v crh. Frifxie won the decision. 





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