In the last bulletin we asked for contributions of one dollar monthly for editing the bulletin, and are glad to report that a response is encouraging. We have purchased a multigraph machine and your generous support will enable us in time to write off our debt to the Field Service.
We apologize for not having informed you in the last minute notice in bulletin No. 2 as to the proper procedure in making out the subscription checks. All such donations should be made out "Lillian A. Gordon, Special".
We give you first some letters from Headquarters in Cairo; a letter from General A. Sice, head of the Free French Forces in Africa; from Alan Stuyvesant, who is doing such a splendid job in Libya with the Free French Unit, and whose brother Lewis, recently serving there with him, is now in our office (recuperating from past wounds) doing an equally good job. He interviews the young men who daily flood our office with inquiries about joining as drivers.
From Col. Ralph Richmond to Mr. Galatti:
"AFS. ST. GHQ. MEF.
29th March, 1942."The sections are organized on paper into sub sections of five cars each. In actual operation, cars are assigned to CCS stations according to the needs of each. One CCS may require only a single ambulance, whereas another takes nine or ten. Some of the stations are very far apart; in one case over four hundred miles from its own company headquarters. It has been a good experience for the men, they have enjoyed it and both the British and the natives are enthusiastic about them and the way they are doing their work. One British unit has asked to have the A.F.S. permanently attached to it.
"Alan Stuyvesant is in town to collect his ten men who arrived today; they are: Stratton, Esten, Krusi, Kulak, Wood, Tichenor, Semple, Greenough, Hammond, Hirchberg. He seems pleased with them. They are all good men".
From a member of the staff at Headquarters:
"AFS. ST. GHQ. MEF.
24th March, 1942."Lots is happening these past few days. As I write in our offices at HQ., A.S. is sitting a few feet away talking with Col. Richmond. Last night we had dinner with H.W., now a major in the U.S. Army. He flew out early this morning. Sometime today D. and B. will arrive from 84 Base Sec. Area (we don't mention centers in correspondence). In a few days Col. Richmond will leave for an inspection of a place on the desert where the first section will be stationed. Then next week --- or two weeks --the 1st. section will pass close by on the way to its new location. P. and R. are temporarily lost somewhere in Africa, though W. saw them a few days ago and reported all well. They should arrive very shortly. (Editor's note: they did arrive) And so it goes.
"Richmond and I have been looking for an apartment. This city is as bad if not worse than Washington, D.C. in that respect. Yesterday afternoon we had an amusing experience: we were shown an apartment occupied by an Egyptian Pasha. The first room we walked in was occupied by five women, one of them in bed. The next room had six or seven---some of them also recumbent. I had heard stories of the number of wives the orientals have, but this seemed overdoing it in a small apartment. The explanations came later, it seems the owner of the apartment had just died and these ladies were not of the establishment, but had come to offer their condolences."
Translation of a letter from General Sice to Mr. Galatti:
"N.Y. May 4, 1942
Dear Mr. Galatti:
My trip through the United States of America enabled me to have the pleasure of seeing you and of thanking you for the splendid support that you, with the aid of the members of the American Field Service, rendered to us.
The twenty three (23) ambulances that you donated so rapidly to our Medical Corps, are all being used by our forces in the field, in Cyrenaica, or held as reserves in the Levantine countries (Syria and Lebanon).
These ambulances are subjected to very important and very gruelling work. Also the possibility of their being destroyed by bombardment is to be taken into consideration.
It is therefore a wise idea to begin thinking of organizing replacement reserves, in order that the evacuation and transportation of our wounded shall always be assured, whatever happens. I am making this request of you in all simplicity, encouraged by the generosity with which you have been helping us.
Please convey my thanks to all your collaborators, and believe me, Mr. Galatti
Gratefully yours,
(signed) A. Sice
Letter from Alan Stuyvesant to Mr. Galatti dated March 30, 1942 referring to a letter from General de Larminat, the commanding officer of the Free French Group in the Western Desert:
"Briefly; he (General Larminat) thanks the Field Service for the section of cars given to the Free French Forces and goes on to stress how essential they are and how indispensable the service rendered by them, has been.
"It is very difficult to give you a clear picture or our actual situation without divulging censorable information. Our cars are doing jobs for the whole division in Libya, and are bearing up very well. They are doing all the 'Field' work; from the most forward patrols in the desert to handling all the divisional cases of the advance Groupe Sanitaire Divisionnaire back to the British Ambulance relay stations, or in the most serious cases all the way back to the advance French surgical base.
"The Free French troops are relying on the A.F.S. to help them with their ambulance problem, if we can. The F.F. 'Big Shots' fully understand the value, not only for themselves, but for the A.F.S. publicity of having A.F.S. units operating with them wherever F.F. fighting units are on the job, and they have assured us that wherever humanly possible and practicable they would see to it that our fellows and cars would be represented.
"If we could have 20 more cars and ten or fifteen additional A.F.S. drivers we could we could accomplish, with real efficiency and credit to the A.F.S., the full job.
"I cannot stress too strongly the need of both cars and men. Even putting aside their urgent necessity I couldn't sufficiently stress the moral effect of such assistance. It is good for a step child to have a friend. There must be some Franco-Americans who, particularly now that we are at war wouldn't let their fear of what Vichy might do prevent them from helping the fellows who have willingly discarded everything to save their self respect!
"This whole financial situation is of tremendous importance and is entirely underestimated by every one when they sign up. In the thrill of joining up a fellow is all too willing to believe that he won't spend money while in the desert and that a very small nest egg will carry him through for a long time. That is not so! There are all sorts of occasions for spending small sums of money. Canteens and movies are cheap but they still are not free".
At this point in the bulletin we would like to quote a letter from Col. Richmond in regard to volunteers' money:
"The only feasible plan in regard to money is to have such funds deposited with the American Field Service in New York, and you cable it to our Headquarters in the Middle East. Any other method may result in expense and delay. Also, there is no telling where the Units may be stationed and there are no banks near them except Syria".
In accordance with Col. Richmond's instructions, the Headquarters in New York of the American Field Service has worked out the following plan:
Money for volunteers in the Middle East will be cabled over on the 1st and the 15th. day of each month. Parents and relatives who wish funds cabled to the men in the Middle East on these dates should include in their checks an additional 50¢ to cover the cost of the cable. Should a parent desire funds cabled in between the above mentioned dates, the charge for this service will be $1.25.
The First Unit.
As the 1st. Unit experience in India has been pretty well covered in previous bulletins we have decided devote our space to selections mostly written since their arrival in Cairo.
"January 16, 1942.
We are of course with British troops ---have been ever since we left home. They are different from American soldiers in many respects --- chiefly in their relatively quiet gentlemanliness and their passive submission to hardship and to authority. Of course they talk much differently from the way we do --- much more so than I thought from the few Oxford accents I have run into. You can understand the latter but it's learning a new language to learn to understand the ordinary Britisher."
First Unit.
"We hated to leave Delhi and Agra, but all good things must come to an end. I hope some day to see Kashmir at the foot of the Himalaya Mountains. People in there say it is the most beautiful country in the world. The rest of the trip was spent train riding through miles of -------- terrain that could have been cultivated but they haven't any money or initiative to picture this. It is really a shame to see India's 400 million people living in filth and so much land going to waste."
First Unit.
Postmarked Egypt, and received April 15, 1942.
"February 11, 1942.
"We came to this camp by a 60 mile truck ride, partly at night, over an utterly flat road, through an utterly flat land. Lights twinkled near or in the distance along almost the whole route where there were camps or concentrations of prisoners. From time to time big searchlights chased a plane in practice. We gather that there have been no bombings hereabouts for a long while. Now we are settled for a few days in some dozen tents. The floors are of gravel and sand, as are the grounds of the camp and the neighboring countryside, but we have straw mattresses and an abundance of blankets for the cold nights. An almost complete set of new equipment is being issued to us so we shall soon have more gear than we know what to do with. A few of our trucks, ambulances and motorcycles are here, and today much time is being spent driving them around camp --- no roads are necessary for such light traffic---to get the feel of them.
"A new set-up of organization was announced today in preparation for getting to work and I was told I shall be head of one of the two sections. This carries a rank as a sort of lieutenant, though, of course, our commissions are granted only by ourselves and have no army status officially.
"Today we tested gas masks in a tent full of tear gas. After standing around a while and finding that the masks were O.K. we took them off to get a few whiffs of the gas --- very interesting and tearful."
First Unit.
"As the convoy rolled off it contained five of the A.F.S. boys and me. It rained steadily and keeping five cars together make it fairly slow going, but we finally arrived, drenched and exhausted after dark. We pulled up to a lovely whitewashed building and my spirits rose, but soon reassumed their dampness when we discovered the camp was a few tents in the 'Flanders Field' behind the building, and what was more, there were none for us and we were destined to stay in our ambulances. (Jupe and I share one, and I'm afraid it somewhat resembles a Syrian pig sty.) The beautiful mirage was an orphanage, and for the first time, dear parents, I had nasty thoughts about you. Incidentally, what other army would live in the mud and leave and orphanage as is? I admire 'em, even though I'm a victim.
"A hot supper in the sergeant's tent revived us a little. We're stationed with an Australian bunch and the fellows couldn't be nicer or do more to make us feel welcome. They have plenty of fun in them and we're all hitting it off fine.
"This is a clearing station for a large area and our chief job is taking patients from here to the hospital. They come in in the morning and we start off after lunch, ---and since it's a long trip we stay over night and then return the next morning. This means every third evening in T. which is a nice diversion, as it's a better town.
"The other day I was down at the lot getting my car fixed, when one of the mechanics asked if I'd like to ride in a Bren carrier. 'Sure', I says, and what a rocky one it was. To complete the thrill he let me drive it, and it was like running a motorboat, only I needed more ocean. Fortunately, Brenny didn't mind the ditch at all and just went right over it. I think I'll stick to my ambulance."
First Unit.
"Every day, as I learn more and more about the ------Service, my regard for it increases. It is not perfect, but then, what one thing in the hands of humans is exactly as all would like it. ******* Although our men are of all types, most are good fellows. It is surprising the lot that are sincerely and actively invested with exceedingly high ideals. Some are very well educated, some not. Their real worth will be proven later.
|
"Today small waterdrops and man "A drop of water and a man |
"According to a -------censor the most dangerous point in the 'defense by silence' line is not the original letter from a soldier to his family but from the second hand information that you pass on to your friends at home.
"Today was wash day for me and so it will delight you to know that my hands were wet and also clean, very clean."
First Unit,
"March 10, 1942. Syria
"I am writing on a rough wood table set in the middle of a bare room paved with marble. One side opens out onto a balcony which looks down onto the sea several thousand feet below and a few miles away. Occasionally a cloud comes over us and mist swirls thru the room. In the distance high above us are rocky snow covered mountains. This is our headquarters where our subsection is stationed awaiting transfer to another district. The building which we are in was once a rather well to do summer villa ---thus the marble floor. We've nothing to do except read and write and enjoy ourselves for the next few days and it is the first time we've had to ourselves since we landed several weeks ago.
"We are 'somewhere in Syria' as you have probably already been told by the N.Y. office. More than that we aren't allowed to say. Yesterday we were sent down here from a valley station at which we were no longer needed. Our work has been absorbing. I've been driving more than 1000 miles a week over gorgeous country --- alpine mountains, snow covered passes, valleys filled with orange groves and vineyards. The country is full of history, especially of Rome. We were very lucky, in the small town in which we were, to be befriended by some of the local British intelligence people who know the district inside out. We met local Syrians of importance, were taken to all the good café's, given the best of Syrian wine and Syrian food which is very good. They have a sour cream cheese called Labanne which is even better -- more runny --- than ricotta; it is eaten as dessert or more strictly speaking an aftermeal with either sugar or salt and pepper. The local bread is like a thin and leathery pancake and is eaten by tearing strips off which are used instead of fork and spoon to scoop food. The bread is also eaten with a chive and watercress sauce which is something like tartar sauce. The meats include kidneys and brains with an occasional lamb or beefsteak. Wild rice is served with every meal. As far as I'm concerned it's almost as good as Italian food. The wines aren't very good, although they are slightly better than a good Californian. The Syrians drink an anis flavored liquor called Arak which is supposed to possess all the evil of absinthe although I've found it no worse than any other strong liquor.
"When we first arrived in the Middle East we were shipped in open trucks across a large stretch of desert at night and shivering in our tropical uniforms to a sand and rock bound camp. Here in tents pitched on the sand we lived end made a confused attempt at organization which was successful enough to convoy a large group of ambulances, trucks, and motor cycles on a 3 day trip to Syria a week later. I rode an English motorbike for the 3 days and enjoyed it immensely. Convoy riding is about as much fun as any motorcycling I've ever done except for cross country work. A convoy depending upon its size may stretch anywhere from a quarter to several miles. The job of the rider in a convoy, of any size at all is to maintain communications up and down the line of vehicles, direct it at cross roads, and to a certain degree police it. For every twenty miles the convoy does, the rider does a good twenty-five. He drops out at every corner to point the way to the vehicle behind and has to wait until the last car has passed or if it's a big convoy the last in his section when the cyclist of the next section takes over. Then he has to catch up to his place. He carries messages, and orders from convoy officers or word of breakdowns or other trouble up and down the line. The rider is the nerve system of the convoy and indispensable. On his efficiency and riding ability depends much of the success of the trip.
"Now that we are here in Syria we've been broken up into such small sections seldom driving in convoy that we've put the cycles away for the time being. I drive an ambulance now.
"When we first arrived at this camp in the desert the whole unit was issued the British army Battle Dress which is about as practical a uniform as could be designed. It seems to be based on ski costumes the only real difference being that there is no strap from the trouser cuff under the instep in the Battle Dress. In addition we were given shoes, shirts, underwear, socks, kit bags, tin hats, gas masks, and they even gave us a sewing kit each. Those of us who were riders were issued with racing crash-helmets, not very good goggles, and gauntlets. With each machine we got a tool kit complete enough to take down the machine to the last nut and bolt, do almost any repair job that might be necessary.
"Our work here (Syria) is quite interesting although it's too routine to be termed glamorous. We carry everybody from buck privates with headaches to natives injured in traffic accidents. The Syrians insist upon carrying on much of their social life as well as driving their cars in the middle of the roads. The Wogs as they are called by the Tommies just won't get out of the way sometimes, and sometimes they get hit. The term Wog, incidentally, is an abbreviation of the very descriptive title 'Westernized Oriental Gentleman' and it is aptly applied in many ways to native peoples all over the Middle East. We frequently have to carry the Medical Officer to any places he chooses to go. One of our jobs include taking him on regular tours of inspection of the local brothels which are just about his biggest headache. Incidentally this brothel business is very sensibly and wisely arranged in the British army. In military areas certain houses are assigned to the troops under army supervision. M.P.'s are constantly on the job in the house to prevent any possible disorder and a very well equipped prophylaxis station is set up near by. Diseased houses are immediately closed to troops. Altogether it's about as well organized and about as well systematized as it could be; and it is very unglamorous, very efficient.
"The country you'd love. It is mountainous and in some sections wild. Like Dalmatia it is rocky and treeless although it doesn't have as much good grazing ground and is more jagged. Where the land is cultivatable it is neatly terraced in even contours even on what seem to be nearly vertical mountainsides. It makes the whole countryside look like a topographical map. Roads wind up cliffs, ridges and mountainsides where you can sometimes see a glassy snake of a stream more than 1000 feet below. The lower levels are covered with semi-tropical plants, flower gardens, orange groves and even an occasional palm tree. The heights are deep in snow this time of year. You start out on a drive in an overcoat and fur-lined gloves on ground frozen hard and finish a few hours later sweating in your shirt sleeves and glad to have a sip from your canteen. I expect to get a day off soon to go skiing. Some of our people have been already and say it's fine. It's something I really never expected to get a chance to do when I came over here."
"March 15, 1942.
"When we were first sent out to our valley station we were quartered in old French Foreign Legion barracks, and because we were almost the first to occupy them for quite a while we managed to set ourselves up very comfortably, with real spring beds, a stove, furniture, including 2 stuffed chairs, and most precious of all we were able to scrounge (the British Army word for a sort of premeditated discovery which is about the same moral. class as taking towels from a hotel) enough sheets from the abandoned hospital nearby to outfit everybody in our section of 12 people. After we'd settled down and worked for a week or two an order came thru for us to return to our base and headquarters, that our station would be taken over by an army ambulance unit, that we were no longer needed. We packed up, returned to our base, spent 5 days vacation there awaiting reassignment, only to be told that we were needed back in our original station. Back we went to quarters this time far inferior to our old ones, as they had in the meantime been taken for other troops. We were quite put out about this because we'd had a perfect set-up even down to the stuffed chair although we, lost one of those when the Brigadier had walked in one day and after hemming and hawing about, explained that we had the only 2 in camp, and could we spare one. Of course we could.
"For the rest of it, as far as comfort goes, we are really extraordinarily well fixed when you stop to think there is a war going on. Actually we have no rank in the army --- British or any other, but in practice the British have treated us amazingly well, given us all sort of privileges and the rating of Warrant Officers, although such rating carries none of it's normal authority, it gives us rather more prestige than we deserve. It's sometimes embarrassing when we remember that in the British Army an ambulance driver is no more than a private.
"While here we've had a chance to observe the much publicized Free French Army at close range. They are a very mixed group of men speaking a regular Babel of languages. There are quite a number of French among them whom one can't help but admire; it must take a great deal of courage to renounce one's country as they have had to do. But the army's a conglomerate of peoples, and like the Italians a conglomerate of gaudy informal endless variety. One day while waiting in one of their hospitals I counted 14 different uniforms, each well supplied with a lovely array of badges and insignia.
"Altogether our life here in Syria is on the pleasant lazy side. It is like a vacation although the whole feeling is one of expectancy and unsettledness --- a something coming feeling which is half of hope and half of dread. At any rate it gives us plenty of time to think and observe some interesting things. For example, these men around us often talk of death and fear and courage, and one thing I'm pretty sure of now --- something I've never thought out before --- is that the fear of death isn't primarily instinctual. It is rather a kind of super homesickness, a basic lack of independence. It is the fear of leaving things behind not of what's to come whether the individual is a believer in the after-life or not. I understand, I think, now why some men can go to their deaths unperturbed. It wasn't religious fervor made martyrs die other than to supply motivation, rather it was their complete withdrawal from the world around them that enabled them to the indifferently, maybe ever joyously. They weren't leaving anything behind. I had always understood that independence of personality was the key to happiness, that too much dependence was the cause of much weakness, but somehow I never connected it with death before."
"March 20, 1942.
Up the line where Jimmie (Capt. King) is, arrival of the Americans was psychologically most important. Many a man stopped me in the street and in the most broken English asked; 'You American? I American too."
Don't let people send money orders or telegraph money through postal channels. I have had two such cases. We've had to send the notices up to Jimmie' s place, have the beneficiaries endorse and return. That will delay things perhaps three weeks. And I wonder even then if we went find further red tape to comply with.
Mail has been unbelievably slow --- due in my judgement to the fact it must have been routed by Singapore in the early days and a lot of it got caught there. Now it is coming through well and every day we send a lot up the line. No telling, though, when things will be upset again."
Chtaura, Syria, April 6 (by Air Mail) --- This is a little town hidden in the mountains between Syria and Lebanon. It is popular with honeymooners, and there are not many places in American so romantic, so cordial or so picturesque.
But arriving here out of season, when snowdrifts close the pass to Beirut, means spending the night or as many nights as necessary in the small summer hotel at the foot of the mountains.
On the other hand, if you're driving an American Field Service ambulance full of sick men and the snow stops you, you will stay at the farthest point your vehicle has reached, even if it is at the edge of the drifts in the pass. Field Service ambulance drivers don't have money for hotels.
Long ago, when the war was young and America thought it was none of her business, these young fellows just out of college volunteered to serve without pay as ambulance drivers. They pictured the shopworn romance of the last war's ambulance men, refurbished with trimmings. They bought their own kit, including uniforms and overcoats, and came over here with great expectations of adventure.
Well, three of those ambulances were stuck in the snow above this village, while troops with shining black faces never made to look upon six-foot drifts shoveled the stuff away down the precipitous edge of the road. One of the drivers was a gangling loosely knit fellow in a blue beret.
"Do you happen to have any water to spare, sir?" he asked the British captain whose car had just pulled up ahead of the long line of waiting vehicles. "Fellows in my truck are sick. And thirsty."
The captain produced water in an old petrol tin. The driver trudged off with it toward his ambulance. The captain turned to the American correspondent whom he was shepherding around the Middle East. "That's one of your chaps", he said.
"Ay", said the American, who had picked up a little English on the way. "He was Stage manager of the Aquacade at the New York World's Fair. Used to be a champion swimmer."
The crews of the two other ambulances slogged forward through the slush past the line of waiting vehicles and had a drink of water.
One of them is a tough little redhead without whom his group would have an even thinner time. His racket is to sit at a piano, wherever there is one, and play American jazz until somebody says. "Have a drink, Yank." Then he says, "Meet my friends", and everybody has a good time that night.
In the slushy, snow -filled roadway he stood around, looking worries, and after a while he said to the American correspondent: "Say, you're from Chicago?" "Yes". "Well, look---"
"Ouch, he's got the dream book out again," said one of the other drivers. But Red would not be stopped. "Look", he repeated. "I've been in Chicago. Do you know Harry Evans? Well, he lives in Chicago; anyhow, I had a dream a couple of nights ago, so real it's still vivid.
"I'm wandering around Chicago and I'm lost. I think I'm on Michigan avenue, and I wind up on top of this thing like a high grain elevator beside a river. Is there a place like that in Chicago? So I'm standing there, wondering what the heck, and a horse comes galloping past me with his harness jingling, and, so help me, he dives into the river. I mean dives, like Carter, here, with his arms and legs held straight out. And in my dream I say to myself, "My God, I'm going crazy." And then this horse, down in the river, hollers, "Hey, Nellie, are you coming or not? ' And this stout, middle-aged woman standing behind me with a small child and a nursemaid says, 'That's his wife,' Well, it seems logical as anything that this nursemaid is the horse's wife. So she hands the kid over to its mother and she says, 'Ah! Embonpoint! Now I know this don't make any sense, but she jumps right into the river, with her long chiffon gown floating gracefully around her like a figure in a Gainsborough painting. And the stout lady looks at me and she says, 'I told her when she married him, that crazy horse can't swim.' Then I woke up. What do you make of that? I cross my heart, that's what I dreamed. I wonder what Freud would make of it."
Dear Boss: So help me, this is a true story!
Russell Hill in an article published in the New York Herald Tribune, May 17, 1942 and dated May 7 from Beirut, Syria writes: "The general smiled when I said I hoped American troops would join his army there. Almost the only American uniforms seen here to date are those of the American Field Service Volunteers who drive ambulances. As there are no wounded in Syria today some of these men and ambulances are being sent to Libya."
"AFS. FFL. GSD. 23/2/42
"I have been pretty busy locating the hospital and mapping out the trail to reach it. The 'mapping' is usually easy: ---a direction by compass, but the 'blazing' of the trail and finding the best going is sometimes a little complicated. This last time the trail had to run clean thru a mine field and I had finally found my path around it when the fellows who were laying it calmly continued their job, unknown to us, with the result that my much prided trail naturally wasn't good for much. We got a 'signals' announcing the arrival, somewhere, of 10 AFS drivers for us. Jeff went off to Cairo to try to bring them back and we are all pretty much thrilled! I certainly hope the poor devils get fully equipped in Egypt before being sent out here because there is not much facility for that around here. I have seen several Heinies shot down during the last few days. Yesterday one was bumped off almost overhead and crashed a few miles off in the desert. Among the first to reach the place were the M.P.'s. They sure get around and it is funny to see them with their red caps guarding a plane miles from anywhere in the blue before the Jerrys even have time to set fire to it or the Legionnaires to tear it apart for souvenirs. This time the Legionnaires got there first but with an officer who kept them from souvenir collecting or murder until the red caps took over."
SECOND UNIT
"Capetown would surprise you greatly, I think. There are more fine new buildings there than I have seen in any American city. The new business buildings are mostly of an attractive modernistic design with many semi-skyscraper type. The new residential sections along the ocean front are also trim, smart, and blazing with gardens. There is an air of well-being and prosperity about the place that I haven't seen anywhere since California in the 30's, and this looks more solid and permanent.
"Our nurses left us here but we promptly and disloyally transferred our allegiance to the W.A.A.F. girls whom we met on every street. I think it was their fetching uniforms but we found them very attractive. Some of our men had already started off; and when the ship sailed next morning nine were missing. Five of them chased and overhauled us in a police launch and a sea-going tug. The other four are presumably thumbing their way through 3000 miles of Africa to our next port of call or else have joined the beachcomber's colony here, said to be one of the best.
'Mombasa. 2/16/42
"This is more like the real Africa. Capetown was essentially an English city. This is definitely not. The sun is terrific at mid-day but just at sunset the native town comes to life with a vividness of color, smells, and life that is impossible to describe."
Second Unit.
"Well, at C.T. we lost the 85 nurses and as our captain put it " The honeymoon is over. We had only 17 hours shore leave from the time the boat docked till it left. You can be sure we took in everything we could. C.T. from the water and on land is a beautiful sight. It is modern, clean and well run. The city is long, thin, running along the coast. Immediately behind it rises, bleak and abrupt, the never-to-be-forgotten once you see it 'Table Mountain'. It resembles a table perfectly being flat on top and rising 3500 feet. Hospitality was most gracious. We rode the buses free of charge and heard the symphony ---gratis.
"It has been so hot lately that a number of us have taken our bedrolls to the poop deck for sleeping. The stars and sky are a wonderful drug.
"As for the sun, a tan should be acquired on boat to destination --gradually. When there (Middle East) learn to fear the sun. Don't become a 'solar lunatic'. This applies to the terrific day heat. If you have to go out, walk slowly, and talk slowly. Seek to imitate the leisurely and dignified deportment of the Arab. When you awake in the morning drink a glass of water mixed with an effervescent saline. Follow up with hot tea. Constipation must be avoided. This is one of the best and least irksome ways of doing so. A tepid bath O.K. ---- cold water NO! All meals up to sundown should be as light as you can make them. After sundown is the time for the main, heavy meal of the day. Alcohol is best avoided during the day as well as heavy wines --- port, sherry. Uncooked salads in the tropics are extremely dangerous."
Second Unit.
"There is one fellow, whom I have become quite friendly with, he having taken me fishing off the stern of the ship when we were anchored in Trinidad. He doesn't know a word of English, but fishing seems to be an international language, sufficient unto itself. He spent most of the time giving jerks on my line when I wasn't looking and then nearly dying of laughter every time he fooled me. The next day I tried to get even with him when his line happened to come right by my porthole while he was fishing from the deck above. I spent about 10 minutes giving him the most tremendous bites he ever had and was enjoying myself no end when suddenly I heard a roar of laughter behind me and he was standing there at the threshold of the cabin watching me, having tied his line to the rail and sneaked down when I didn't know it. Every time he sees me now, he lets out a squeal of Arabic and nearly double up with laughter. Anything amusing seems to keep one of these boys happy for weeks. I have noticed it in other ways too. They will laugh and chuckle for hours over some slight gesture or kidding you give them. They also love puzzles and spend lots of their spare time devising tricks with string and wire.
"Our unit is patrolling the ship every night to see that the blackout is enforced. People always forget and leave portholes open or light cigarettes on deck where it is forbidden. I was on last night from 3-6 a.m. We had a rather unpleasant experience the other night, when a number of flares appeared off on the horizon. They were obviously distress signals, whether from a ship in distress or from a raider trying to get us over there we don't and never will know. The law of the sea these days is to answer no such signals, and accordingly we altered our course and sailed on. This was the first time that the danger we are in was brought home to any of us. We have been having lifeboat drill regularly and everyone is supposed to have his emergency kit ready at all times. Beyond that there isn't much one can do but take the chances.
"Some of the writers in our crowd are publishing an amusing little bi-weekly newspaper and also several other upstart publications seem to have put in one-day appearances. With occasional skits and music, etc. in the evenings by several of the more talented people on board, and all sorts of deck games during the day added to my regular pursuits of reading, playing chess, and talking time seems to fly by. The sunsets and moonlight nights are unbelievably beautiful. The sky at dusk assumes the most wonderful grey I have over seen, a sort of pastel texture, the like of which I have only seen before in Chinese paintings. The moon, lovely as it is, is undesirable because it lights up everything so."
Below is a letter from a soldier in the Middle East Army active in the Libyan sector and in the general region where many of our men are now working. It was written to one of our parents who sent it in to our office and we take the liberty of printing it here to give you the atmosphere:
"First I.L.H. 2nd Div. U.D.F., M.E. Forces, Cairo. 3/2/42
"Our first real battle was at Bardia and 20% of the battalion, myself included, were left out of this so as to have a fresh nucleus for the second phase of attack on Halfaya Pass. Our casualties at Bardia were extremely high, but the attack was successful and after occupying Bardia the battalion was reformed at Sidi Ozeiz. Whilst moving off from this point to take up our position for attack on 'Hellfire', the wonderful news was received that the 'Gerries' had capitulated. There was great relief all around and tremendous cheering, as "Hellfire" Pass, with its almost impregnable fortifications, would have proved a most costly and difficult affair. The Germans, as you know, were starved out at 'Hellfire' and were so weak that they, in many instances, had to be placed in lorries (picked up) to be conveyed to the prisoner of war camps"
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"The past six months have really been hard going, living in dugouts chiefly, below ground, and in makeshift tents and being continually on the move. In the last three months we have changed camp or 'bivouac' areas at least 60 or 70 times and it is nothing unusual to make oneself comfortable in the morning and then be told to move in the afternoon. One is never really settled! In addition to this, the weather has been bitterly cold and dust storms and weather conditions, generally, the worst experienced in Libya for ten years! In spite of it all everybody is still quite cheerful and morale throughout A 1 ---really magnificent! There is no doubt about it that we shall beat the 'Gerries' on 'guts' and determination alone, because had they fought with our spirit at Bardia, and in one or two other, places around here, the position today would not be quite so good !!
THE THIRD UNIT
"Finally we sailed -and just before we left Ambrose Lightship we heard of another sinking less than fifty miles from our then position. Shortly afterwards a couple of patrol planes flew over head --that helped, but it was the last we saw of anything like that --- we've been utterly on our own ever since.
"It's the surreptitiousness of it that's so maddening. The Chief Officer asked us to go on watch at dawn and dusk because that's the time of greatest danger. Accordingly we have alternated going up to the monkey deck ---just on top of the bridge. From there we peered anxiously at the sea---it's hard on your eyes when for an hour you stretch and strain every optic muscle to try to penetrate the horizon and the depths of the waves. At night we're completely blacked out and D. and I have been put in charge of that. Every evening we make a complete round of the boat ---any little crack of light can be seen for miles---and for the first three or four days the boat was covered with chalk marks where we had indicated light showing through. Each morning the Chief Officer would go around with us, noting down the places and having them plugged. We've been lucky to say the least ---I guess I should knock wood. As we've proceeded on our way we've continued to get reports of attacks made by submarines, sometimes only a few hours astern of us. Now our vigil is more directed against surface raiders and today we've been advised that there may be mines in the vicinity. But like all things---you get used to it eventually. Our precautions haven't relaxed but our nerves have. And with it, has come adaptation to the life on board, time to think of many things and a large measure of boredom.
"The Captain is somewhat aloof, at times, sticks very much to himself, and I can't see that he does a great deal except bear the responsibility. He's amusing at times, though, and typically British--- as a movie actor would portray the type that is. The Chief Engineer does nothing, talks a lot (he's possessed of the greatest fund of misinformation I've ever encountered), and, being Irish, runs down everything as much as he dares if it has any English or American connection. No one likes him and some day he's going to get an awful bang over the head from the Chief Officer who is frank to admit he hates the man's insides. The Chief Marconi is the most unprepossessing man I've ever seen, I believe. I won't take up apace on him ---only were it not for the Second Marconi, our communication with the world at large would be in a sorry plight. The rest of the officers are really quite grand. The Chief Officer, is about as far from what I expected as it's possible for any man to be. Very friendly, he's got opinions that are worth listening to on almost any subject. He's not well educated, but his interests in important things is unbounded. He is slightly pinkish in some of his beliefs but he's got pretty good reasons even if his logic leaves something to be desired. He really runs the ship and does a very good job. The Second and Third are both quite young --- the second is about 27 or 28 --- has been to sea for some eleven years and is thoroughly intelligent chap. He does the navigating and has charge of cargo. The Third is about 26, I should judge, and has a really high order of intelligence. Of the three, I should pick his as the best mind.
"Kartoum. Friday, March 20, 1942.
"I am sitting comfortably in a beautiful hotel in Kartoum, once more temporarily stalled in our journey. Much has transpired since my last letter from Durban, most of which has been amusing and fascinating.
"We flew up the Indian Ocean coast, stopping at --------- for very short stops for breakfast and lunch respectively and then we came down at Mozambique for the night. We were on the mainland unfortunately and, it being Portuguese territory, were very restricted in our movements. The hotel was quite nice, and I had become friendly with two charming young RAF boys ---one a Winf Commander returning to duty and one a Pilot Officer on his first excursion north to take up action. The next day, we continued on up the coast to Mombassa, and then inland to Lake Victoria where we came down for tea at Kusum and then crossed the north corner of the lake to Port Bill. From there we were driven 15 miles to Kampala, the capital of the Uganda, for the night. Kampala is a queer city about which more anon. We took off again early the next morning and landed on the Nile at Juba and there we had to get off because the river is too narrow, etc. to take off with more than a certain load --- we had anticipated this, but I can tell you it was with very mixed feelings that we stood on the bank of the Nile, watching the great airship leave us behind in the very center of darkest Africa. We could probably have been put aboard another plane eventually, but we were faced with a possible 3 weeks delay. Luckily the steamer leaving the next day (they only go every 2 or 3 weeks) had space for us and we grabbed the chance. There were 3 of us ---D and I --- and a Captain Ferguson, retired, fatuous and stupid. So after a night in Juba we set sail the next morning and five days later we arrived at Malakal where once more the load limit on the Flying Boat was normal. Again we were lucky as there was a plane due in that afternoon --- and we got on without trouble, arriving here for tea, late in the afternoon. Had we stayed on the boat, the trip that took us 2 hours by plane would have taken another 6 1/2 to 7 days.
"The flight from Durban to Juba was, as you can imagine, interesting, but the chief impression with which I was left was the stupendous size of this continent and the vastness of the wasteland of which it is largely composed. The Union of South Africa is for the most part quite developed; but once it was left behind there was nothing for hundreds of miles on end but impenetrable bush through which an occasional river and dried up river beds wander aimlessly from no place to no place. Little native settlements dot the landscape from time to time and from the air look like little patches of mushrooms. After we left Mombassa, the country became more mountainous. We flew fairly near the highest mountain in this part of the continent ---about 20,000 feet high. Its peak was lost in the clouds above us as we went by at an altitude of 11,000 feet. I noticed in Kenya that despite a luxuriant underbrush and an abundance of trees, the natives always build their mud huts on the top of hills as far removed from any sign of shade as possible. Lake Victoria is an enormous body of water---approximately round, its broadest diameter is a shade over 200 miles.
"We spent the second night in Kampala which you'll locate on a map --- a few miles north of the northwestern extremity of Lake Victoria. It's the capital of Uganda and a lovely town of about 1000 whites and 4000 natives in the city and untold thousands in the surrounding area. The city is built on four hills --- on the crest of one is the hotel, on a second an immense Mohammedan mosque, on a third a C.M.S. cathedral, and on the 4th a Roman Catholic cathedral. The Mohammedans occupy one part of the city and the African tribes of all types the balance (except for a small white area in which is to be found the hotel and government palace). As the sun set, the three great houses of worship silhouetted against the sky presented a spectacular sight which seemed so very inconsistent with the primitive people who were privileged to witness it night after night. The natives go about with little or no clothing and seem to mix with Mohammedans (who wear the inevitable white gown) and a few christianized natives who dress in sloppy, filthy modern clothes (only shoes are missing) --- they seem a happy, contented and wholly worthless mixture of people who take easily to the very mild form of British discipline.
"Te next day found us at Juba --- the town is some 10 miles from the landing place which is as desolate and depressing a place as is conceivable. It was hot ---approaching 100 when finally we climbed aboard the Ford station wagon to go into town and the prospect of being stuck there indefinitely did not exactly stimulate the cockles of my heart. On the way to Juba we saw a group of baboons and a little further on we made our first contact with the Beira tribe. Juba itself is a queer little town ---white population consisting of 4 Greeks who run the hotel, 4 more who run the 4 shops, 3 British Airways men from England, a white doctor (as nice a chap as I've met) and the government men whom I didn't see. The balance of the population (some 2000) is about equally divided between the Sudanese (Mohamedan tribes who have been settled in the country for centuries) and the Beira African natives. They have a fine hospital there --- run by the English doctor, but staffed by natives of all and sects who have been sent down here to Kartoum where they have studied at the Gordon University. I went through the hospital and it's amazing to see how advanced and careful is the treatment given. Aside from its obvious humanitarian purpose, hospitals of this kind form a major part of the British hold on the country. The native is brave beyond belief and can endure any kind of suffering the cause of which he can see. Accordingly they have tribal marks all over their bodies ---sometimes made by forcing hot bamboo splinters under the skin thus raising great welts from ear to ear, and from one side of the chest, stomach, neck or limb to the other ----sometimes over the whole body. Other tribes make their marks by opening long slashes and inserting gun powder or powdered herbs of one kind or another---the resulting scar is deep and lasting. Always the scars are in a pattern, decorative and complex --- and each has a very real meaning. But brave as they are in the face of this kind of pain, they are bewildered and frightened when overtaken by some unseen illness ---malaria, yellow fever, T.B. etc. And the doctors treat them and drive away the evil and in so doing become almost gods to the natives. The Turks when they ruled these people raised them for slaves ---until 1926 the Abyssinians made a regular business of the slave trade. This the British have completely stopped ---instead have come their hospitals and the rudiments of civilization--- outside of the hospital, the natives are as untouched by the latter as a newborn monkey ---but with them has come peace and freedom from worry. Thus one Englishman can rule over an area of 60.000 square miles and always be sure that his word will be followed and his orders carried out despite the fact that any single tribe can account itself lucky to see him once a year for a few hours or at most a day.
"Sunday, March 22nd
"We left Juba the next morning ---March 14th --- and began our trip down the Nile. The crew were entirely Sudanese ---Mohammedans, that is --- no one of which knew a word of English except the Commissar who was a dumb Egyptian. The Captain has a bunk next to the wheel and there he spends 24 hours a day --- sleeping at times but usually merely reclining peacefully as he directs the steering --- the signal to the engine room is conveniently placed so as to be operated either by foot or by hand without requiring the use of any other muscle. From there he guides his ship in the most astonishing maneuvers.
"For the first day and a half little native villages were frequent --but then the sudd set in and the villages became larger and less numerous. For the most part they consist of from 10 to 100 little round mud huts with grass roofs --- for each hut there will be an average of 15 or 20 natives --- and for each native there is at least one cow and a sheep. The approach to the village is invariably heralded by an acrid stench which pervades the atmosphere for about mile around---it's the burning cow dung ---the chief fuel used for cooking or any other operation calling for heat. There is so little woodland around that what wood is available is saved for sale to the steamers. The Beira, Dingas and Nuers---in that order --- were the three tribes whose countries we passed thru. All have two things in common. One is almost complete lack of clothing whatsoever. The men wear nothing at all --other than strings of beads and an occasional ivory band around their arms. The women are usually naked as well ---although some of them wear tiny leather aprons --- and for certain occasions they drape great red leather gowns over their entire bodies---gracefully and easily --- they look wonderful in these improvised robes. The other thing is their worship of their cattle. They never kill them --- and hence only eat meat when a cow has died from other causes. They tend them with infinite care---milk them regularly and once every so often they tap the shoulder for a bit of blood which they consume as a great delicacy.
"They are also alike in their happy, lazy, friendly life. They, were pleased when we would come ashore and wander about their villages ---whole masses of them following behind, inducing us to look in their huts--- buy their beads and proudly displaying their tribal marks and scars of bravery. The Dingas and Beira frequently coat themselves --- from head to foot --- in a mixture of red mud and cow dung which clings to them like an adhesive dust and they are truly resplendent in the redness which they thus take on. Their hair is often long and either white or flaming red ---it's black when 'au naturel' of course --- and their women gaze upon them with an awe and admiration which would tickle the head of any sophomore football hero. The Dingas particularly are a handsome lot --- most of them well over 7 feet in height ---- slender and straight ---- they move with a grace such as I've rarely seen before. They carry spears and while standing at ease they quite unconsciously strike poses which would make wonderful pictures if any artist could truly capture the spirit.
"In Bor, the District Commissioner's headquarters for that part of the country, we saw a court in session. The D.C. was away but his assistant told us what was going on. It was an interesting thing to watch. Their native chiefs sat on stools while those who had complaints and those against whom they were pressed sat around and told their tales. An interlocutor sat at the feet and everything that was said was repeated in a ' fog horn like' voice although a deaf man could have heard everything that passed so loud were the expressions of opinion etc. The din around was enormous but the manners of those present and their ease of expression belied the slightest excitement or lack of order.
"And so it went. The countryside for the first two days was flat -but woodland could occasionally be seen in the distance ---we saw hundreds of elephants ---several hippos, wild buck and crocodiles --- and their bird life ---for color, variety and profusion surpassed -anything I've ever imagined. Then the sudd set in. The sudd is simply the raw papyrus. It is so thick that to try to pass through it would be impossible even if the ground under foot were not marshy and muddy --- and for three days we could see nothing but sudd for as far as the eye could see. Here there is no river bank ---the whole area is like a great sea with floating islands of this green wilderness. At times we would go for three or four hours without seeing a stretch of river that was straight for more than 200 yards. I began to be increasingly conscious of what was meant by 'darkest Africa'. By the time we arrived at Malokal the desert country had begun. Malokal. is nothing but a dirty little town of Sudanese natives and Shilluchs, the local African tribe. The Shilluchs are tall and quite handsome too ---and they fix their hair in the most outlandish dress you ever saw ---great round slabs are plastered over their heads and the hair wrapped around until it has dried and hardened. While still soft it is molded into fan shapes over each ear and the result is a. harrowing spectacle indeed.
"When we got to Kartoum we found ourselves in the desert --- and already we've seen a mild sandstorm and have had a chance to acclimatize ourselves to the life. Kartown is quite a beautiful city".
There is only one way to send mail; %American Field Service GHQ British Middle East Armies Cairo, Egypt No matter what letter head you find on your letters from overseas or what else you may be told, this is the surest, quickest and safest way to send mail. It delays longer if you send to us for we can only forward to same address as above.
Also: There is now available a book called "Fair Is Our Land" written by Samuel Chamberlain and Donald Moffat who served in the A.F. S. in the World War. It is a representation of American in etchings and photographs, published by Hastings House for $5.00. On all copies ordered thru us we receive the proceeds.
FOURTH UNIT
At the army camp in Wynberg.
"March 16.
"At last! Able to stretch out, clean and healthy, and spend hours writing to you free of most restrictions which made correspondence while on the boat a job unpleasant and boring. Why spend precious space telling you of the thrilling sensation of touching land again ----even customs officials were welcome sights.
"We are social successes! Sunday W. another boy and myself were wandering about the wealthy, suburban area obviously looking for some kind South African to pick us up and, convinced that we were failures ---or bathess--- had stopped in at some Sweet Shop for a strawberry sundae. We then continued our lonely, eager way up a street when suddenly a small Chevy pulled up to the curb in which were a man and wife about 40 years old and swarms of children ---front, back, all over. The oldest child was about ten. The lady asked us if we wouldn't like to have some tea with them. After all our ambitions, when our moment came we stuttered, not quite sure but that we might have to throw one of the children out of the window in order to get in the car. But in we popped one little gal saying 'I want to sit on your lap' obviously enchanted to find an American who had more freckles than she possessed. With brats sprawled all over our knees and necks and convinced that all this driving on the left hand side of the road was going to end us in an ignominious death we started driving. We went first to our host's mother's house: Mrs. Ince. A small, rather run down little house with a very American garden except for two palm trees, which shaded us through innumerable cups of tea and cakes. All very charming people. Mrs. Ince ( our host's wife) had come over from England about twenty years ago while her husband was born in this country and had gone in for raising grapes. About five o'clock Mr. & Mrs. Ince said goodbye to the grandmother and we went along with them, expecting to be dropped at camp. Nope! We were driven out to their home and what a spot! Down in Constantia Valley there is about six to ten acres which is almost entirely covered with grape vines. Hundreds of rows of green, purple and red grapes, most of them far larger than anything you see in the states. In about the middle of the vineyard is a small, one story English house with a brick porch and a divided door leading into a stucco, beamed interior, very neat and attractive. While our host and hostess were bathing and putting to bed about four of their six children the three of us wandered about the vineyard casually picking grapes and trying to impress upon our miserable inadequate souls the beauty of the valley, the terrifying mountains which almost completely surrounded us and the small thin clouds which poured thru a saddle . The valley, the house, the vineyard were reminiscent of certain sections of California. We spent hours talking Union politics ( a strange dangerous mixture of loyal South Africans, Republican-minded Dutch and pro-nazis) and African geography. As we were about to leave they up and invited us back to dinner Thursday night, asking us, hopefully if we played bridge."
Fourth Unit.
"We have been placed in barracks at a small military camp in the suburb called Wynberg. It is on a hill and looks for miles across a plain to a range of mountains. Then there are lovely mountains rising very close behind us. This residential area is a very lovely one, too. All of the Capetown residential areas are probably more like California than like any other part of the States. What is most impressive, however, is the beautiful vegetation. I have never seen in one place the beautiful variety of trees and flowers. Everyone has some sort of a garden and they are all beautiful. The style of the houses and the gardens, too, is much different from anything I have seen. Even our camp is very lovely, with tall pine trees all over it. To get some really good food is also a great treat. The food on the boat was fundamentally all right, but badly prepared. The food at the camp here is nothing special, but it is well prepared. We have, however, eaten a number of meals out. We have been downtown almost every day and, of course, in the evenings. The people of Capetown have been wonderful to us.
"You would hardly know that this country is at war. Of course there are a great many uniforms about, but there are few restrictions on foodstuffs. Everything is plentiful except for butter and white bread."
Fourth Unit.
Postmarked Capetown.
"April 8, 1942.
"We should be leaving soon. There was one h---- of a storm of wind the other day and our room was inches deep in sand. All our blankets, clothes and hair were full of the stuff. I don't remember whether I told you about it in my last letter, but when we got back from our little trip, we were shifted to new barracks. In fact, in new camp.! This is three miles walk to the main road and then about an hour's ride to town. It sure is a sandy waste."
Fourth Unit.
"Capetown, South Africa
March 18, 1942.
"We could see the whole city, snug against Table Mountain, lying in a pretty bay, as we came into harbour. The red roofs dotting the hillsides, luxuriant vegetation alternating with bare rugged slopes. The South Africans put us here next a medical post, where all of us enjoy a schedule that is not so demanding of our time that we cannot accept many offers of a hospitality that is unique, generous, and a delight. Ah solid ground once more! Elbow room! Green trees! Women and children! Vegetables and salads I Now we are busy exploring the country side which is semi-tropical, with palms and pines, like Kipling's verse, here together. Most of the trees are imported. There are great gums, Italian wavy, slender trees, whole groves. Little white houses with New Orleans-like cast iron grilled balconies. Every view I see from here begs to be painted. And soon I shall try some water colors. The hills are astonishing, unbelievable. Gaugin, Matisse, and Utrillo rolled into one. There are many little streets like Utrillo did in France. It is strange, incongruous to recognize cactus under an oak tree as you do here. They are releasing our cameras, so maybe when sufficient time has elapsed, I can send snaps of this beautiful place. As the newspaper remarked, 'Capetown is essentially Victorian'.
"Sunday morning we were strolling up hill and down dale admiring the variety of scenery in the suburb of Wynberg when four of us received a hail from a large old white house, built in the 60's, I should imagine, and two sisters inquired if we were Americans, called their mother, who asked us to come in, sit on the grass, have apples, grapes, scones, and tea, become acquainted. The three of them live all alone in the place as husband and brothers are away in the armed forces, South African regiments and British. We accepted their invitation. It turned out the mother's name was Mrs. G.V. Macmillan, their house 'Mount Edgely' (all the houses have names). One of the daughters, a gay red-headed girl was married. Both daughters work in Capetown and contribute to the support of their mother. It seems whenever a convoy of ships come in, they make it their business to open up their house to the boys and entertain them as best they can. The two girls drove us thru the mountains to the beach, and showed us the city from Cecil Rhodes memorial, where, Mum, there is a wild equestrian statue 'Energy' by the Britisher, Watts. The girls, Monica and Susan insisted we have supper and afterwards showed us their collection of regimental South African and Royal British badges, buttons, flashes (pieces of coloured cloth to set off the device) and insignia. We gave them an American Field Service badge ( the first American one in their collection)."
CAIRO, Egypt. May 7. (wireless to the N.Y. Times)
After several months' service on the Cyrenaican front, members of the American Field Service volunteer ambulance drivers corps --- were here on leave today, but tomorrow they must be back with their units. Meanwhile, fifteen more American Field Service drivers ( Editors note: Fifth Unit) arrived at an Egyptian port.
There are now more than 100 American Field Service men either driving United States built ambulances in cooperation with British field ambulance units or training for desert work. The group of fifty on leave in Cairo included both veterans and trainees. The rest of the men will get a day off later.
Fifth Unit
"I did my wash today. Ma, I sympathize very deeply with you ( I made the mistake of letting my underwear come in contact with the blue pajamas - you undoubtedly know the rest!
"Rain at sea is interesting to watch ---the clouds are beautiful -some are brown, some fleecy white, others gray, black, red, even green. One can see the rain a hundred yards away then it ends abruptly as if it were fenced in by glass. The South Atlantic is kicking up today. The spume is beautiful for the sun makes rainbows in it. Our old tub is really rockin'. I take off my hat to the crew---they know what it is to be torpedoed at sea---the engineers know too---and they also know what their chances are ---nine yards below the water line with only rope ladders to escape by. It hasn't affected me however, but now and then as I stand alone by the rail toward dusk I get little jumpy feelings. ---the sea murky and obscure --- a little wake of foam ---you watch it to see if it lasts any distance --- it effervesces and you are relieved ---it makes me contemplate. Maybe seventy-five yards or so away ten yards under the surface there may be a funny silver cigar --- in it are men. It was made by him, it is run by him, it is used by him or his brothers; it can spit very nasty things --- poof! and then it slithers away like a reptile disappearing into the dark fathomless depths of its abode. Behind in its path struggle ant like creatures in a great puddle. No sir, you can't blame the crew for "living a life time" the few hours ashore at the end of each trip. "Long Journey Home" painted the picture well."
Sixth Unit
"Capetown, 30th April, 1942.
We started turning to on deck to pass the time. Now we chip, scrape and paint all day long and wash clothes in our time off. Nobody worries much about the war. This is a job and they have to do it. Most of the crew had been torpedoed at least once, but they don't fret. There are, of course, one or two jittery people who drag their life jackets, etc., wherever they go, but most people just carry on.
We get along with the officers and spend large hunks of the night chewing the fat on the top ridge. The weather has been beautiful ever since we left, and the nights are clear and starry. The only thing we've seen since we left have been a stick about seven feet long floating by the day before yesterday, and a big oil barrel before that. The fact that people talk about these shows how much they have on their minds."
"Durban, May 8th, 1942.
"Our ship barely chugged into port because the Chief hadn't bought enough coal. The last two weeks we were only chugging along at about eight knots, and the last four days we used salt water in the boilers because we were all out of fresh and there wasn't enough coal to distill any more. And one of the Arab firemen jumped the ship in this last port, so it means the Chief and Second Engineer Officers are down in the stokehold shovelling coal and ash. Jones started to work down there, but when I found there were four ladders to go up to reach the main deck I put the stokehold out of bounds. After all, there's a war on, and it's not uncommon for a torpedoed ship to sink in less than thirty seconds. Jones griped because he was earning the Arab's wages, which amounted to about $2.50 per day, and he needs the money. It ain't right though. By the way, that's no picnic, that work. Each man shovels about four tons of coal a watch, and in between times shovels out ash, pokes the fire with big long heavy rods. And it's about 120 degrees in the shade, no forced draft.
The albatross are surprising birds. Their features resemble those of a gull, but they stand -------- censored ----------------------------------have to twitch up the edge of their wings to ----------- ripples. The damnable part is, they don't lose altitude on these runs---they tear for hundreds of yards, then pull out of it, and climb to about 75 feet and never a pump of their wings. If they ever land on the water, a thing they seldom do, they have a hell of a time taking off because their wings are so big they slap the water. They have to run like Jehu across the tops of the waves, their wings halfway rigged in with the outer half flapping and glapping. Sometimes it takes them two or three tries to get off.
The chief officer of the Swedish vessel, Odd Graef, said that it was 7:20 on April 20 when his ship was struck by one torpedo and went down quickly. One lifeboat was launched with ten men.. It picked up twenty others from the water. The. remaining three men were on a life raft. Since the lifeboat was not large enough for all, two life rafts were tied together, and the men divided among them and the lifeboat.
After the ship went down, Mr. Graef said, the submarine surfaced. She appeared about 190 feet long and had a white elephant's head on the conning tower. Six men came on deck who, Mr. Graef is certain, were Italians.
"They looked clean and well-shaven," he said. "Their spokesman wore an overseas cap. He inquired about the ship's tonnage, cargo and destination, and then apologized for sinking the ship. He called our attention to the other survivors by pointing to them and then moved off to the west, still on the surface."
This group was picked up the following morning by a Norwegian vessel. The members of the ambulance unit were inclined to minimize their experience. They are Jacob Vollrath, 19 years old of Sheboygan, Wisconsin; William J. Atkins, 21, of Madison, Wisconsin; Peter C. Brooks, 25, of Boston; George C. Lyon, 24, of Essex, Conn.; Grafton Fay, 27, of Boston; William B. Eberhard, 26, of New Haven, Conn.; and Carl H. Adam, 20, of Madison, Wisc.
Fay, leader of the group, said: "We spent sixteen hours in the lifeboat and didn't have much trouble. We were tired from rowing when a freighter sighted us, but that was about all."
Adam added: "We had to row all the time because we had the life rafts tied behind the boat with some fellows on them, and we had to keep the ropes taut."
They declared their experience hadn't dulled their desire to get into service. As Vollrath put it: "We'll get over there yet."
To the new parents: A.F.S. pins can be ordered thru our office. Price $2.00.
Our sincere apologies for "going to press" late. War conditions and a new multigraph machine impeded our progress. We hope you find an improvement over the first page in the last.
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