We had hoped that our General Headquarters in Cairo wild be able to get out a news bulletin from there, similar to the A.F.S. bulletin which was printed in Paris during the First World War. Unfortunately, the paper shortage in the Middle East is so acute that this cannot be done. We, therefore, have decided to enlarge the Bulletin here.

We still expect to reserve a large part of the new bulletin for the very interesting letters, which have so kindly been sent to us by the families and friends of our drivers in the Middle East, but we hope to also publish news items which we are sure will be of interest to all our readers.

We do not have sufficient facilities in the New York Headquarters for this type of a job, and Mr. John H. McFadden, Jr. --- assistant director general of the A.F.S.--- has come to the rescue. He has offered to place his printing plant in Memphis at our disposal, and beginning with the next issue, the printing and mailing will be done from there. We will, of course, continue to edit the bulletin from our New York Headquarters.

Mr. McFadden has very generously offered to do his part of the job without charge, and this will dispense with the necessity of asking for subscriptions.

A number of you subscribed to the Bulletin and we are deeply grateful for your interest and support. Because of the expense entailed in getting out the first four issues, we must of necessity retain the money subscribed up to and including the June issue. However, funds on hand for the July and subsequent issues will be refunded, if you so desire. In anticipation of our printing the Bulletin, we purchased a multigraph machine, which has proved invaluable to our Headquarters here. If you would care to have any part of your subscription applied to its purchase, we can assure you it would be deeply appreciated.

All communications should still be sent to this office, and we hope our old readers, as well as our new ones, will keep material and suggestions coming in to us.

Dorothy Field
editor

Now that a large portion of the men are on the other side, we have decided to present our material in relation to location rather than to units --- in so far as censoring permits. Once the units reach their destination they are broken up into Sections, so that only in connection with departure or transportation will we use the designation "unit".

Recently material is arriving in such volume that we hope you will understand the necessity to make our selection in relation to all the letters. It is your interest and effort that makes this service possible just as much as ours and we thank you for your cooperation.

We begin with the most recent news.

The Twelfth Unit torpedoed!---- as told by one of the men when he returned to New York Headquarters --- still in Red Cross make-shift garb, bedroom slippers, lumberjack shirt, unshaven and sunburned, but ready to go again:

"Route X by X and Y by X. Sometime later, one hour approximately, 1:20 we were awakened by the jar of a torpedo, which we recognized instantly, never having heard one before. It also woke my roommate. We were sleeping in our clothes, donned our shoes, trenchcoats, light jackets. We went on deck to lifeboat station. I was ordered into the bow of my lifeboat, in the position about 200 yards off the starboard quarter. No time to look at the sub much. The boat was lowered. There was no confusion or panic. The lifeboat was still in the falls when the second torpedo struck 15 feet astern the lifeboat. It hit the engine room. Pretty messy, we got off, down off the tidal wave it caused. The boat sank about three minutes after that. Splendid bunch of 'teen age British kids were the crew. Swellest bunch you would want to meet. Skipper of our boat was the second engineer. Everybody did everything they could. Credit should go to the English boys. There was no whimpering among them. They were always ready to help. When I sail again, I only wish that it could be with the same group of English boys.

"Cairo, March 20.

"Up the line where Capt. K. 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 thru postal channels; I have had two such cases and we've had to send the notices up to K's Place, have the beneficiaries endorse and return. That will delay things perhaps three weeks.

"Mail has been unbelievably slow --- due in my judgment 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 thru well and every day we send a lot up the line. No telling though, when things will be upset again."

At Sea. Mailed in Capetown. 5th. Unit.

"March 20, 1942.

"We are somewhere in the south Atlantic. I am lying in the sun on the boat deck browner than I have been in several years. Have salt soaked all over me from our salt water showers which are wonderful. This is the most peaceful place ever seen. The only sound is that of the ventilators, for the sea is like glass . . . Our stop in Charlotte Amelie was a novel experience. We had a swim at the Marine Beach . . . . We reached San Juan the next night; went to the Escambron Beach Club for dinner and I wolfed around alone doing very little of nothing."

No date or postmark. Envelope stamped "Received from H.M. Ships". Rec'd June 2, 1942

"Mum, you would have loved our African stopover. I think living wouldn't have been any higher, in cost, there than ours. There seemed much opportunity too. But then my enthusiasm for the mountains, color, and people may outweigh my evaluating bump. But gardens. My! Hibiscus, bougainvillea, all the flowers you have (with some exceptions) and others beside. I know you would have enjoyed talking with an English nurserywoman, as I did when I was on way to collect laundry. They grow things from Australia here, but are finding seed from England difficult to get. Their season is unending and a sandyish soil. I fell in love with the place on the whole. But then I loved what I could see of Rio de Janeiro too, though we did not go ashore. There it is cheap to live, too. The Brazilians were het up about shipping attacks on them when we came by.

"The English people I've met, both educated and plain flavor, are surprisingly willing to let me explain that Americans are not English by blood, necessarily, and that might explain why we had as many attitudes toward the world situation as we had races and nations. But some of the boys arranged for them to exchange informal views on the warm pleasant deck. I have spent hours in spirited discussion. They are quite fair about us, treat us with great deference, love to hear about labor problems, the music; beg to be loaned our books."

At Sea. 4th. Unit.

"The fellows in the Field Service are all on the nice side and we have lived together with a surprisingly low minimum of strife and confusion. We have no such thing as privacy any more. Twenty-four hours every day are spent in full view of the public .... I have bought a considerable quantity of insect powder, quite a necessity. And I have also acquired a tropical weight bush jacket and some books."

From Capetown, March 18; received May 22, 4th. Unit.

"Now we are really in God's country. You've never seen anything until you've been in South Africa. The country is perfectly beautiful. Mountains similar to our West, magnificent gardens and wonderful climate. It's summer here now going on toward fall. Words can't describe this place at Capetown. Swimming in the ocean, horseback riding, and the people are the most cosmopolitan bunch I've ever seen. They take you for rides in the country, invite you to meals and introduce you to their daughters. Men in uniforms are treated like kings. And the girls, oh man! are they something I Beautiful doesn't describe them. It's practically Utopia."

Airmail from Syria, May 4; received May 28.

"After landing we spent a short time on the sands of Egypt where we had training in sand driving, mechanics and maintenance, map reading, convoy driving, and two days of sand storms. We had a day's leave at my address, and what a day! It was the first time we had. been in any city for a helluva long time. It's the dirtiest place I ever hope to see."

"A.F.S. Wynberg Camp, Capetown, March 18, 1942.

"Just stopping off place where we'd like to stay months enjoying for a change solid ground, the first since sailing, and the semi-tropical beauty of mountains frowning (like Cecil Rhodes) upon the sea. 19th. Century town with much friendly colonial hospitality, most of the men in the fighting services, the parents and widows, daughters, wives, sisters, determined to be kindly to every convoy that comes through. We walked about, motored a little, marveled and lost our heads over the climate, houses, wiggly streets, and the Afrikanus language. Getting used to quantities of English tea with milk soy bean, whole wheat bread, jam, cabbage, etc. The fish here is very tasty. Bright, late summer sunshine floods through the barracks. Vagrant, lazy air floats by. They are drilling on the clipped green parade ground outside. Someone is enjoying a strictly cold shower, inside. Oof! My bedding roll is laid out, blankets airing. A tall pine grove set against the cobalt sky across tumbling valleys and strong clean line of mountain peaks. Suddenly a negro beats the section of railroad rail hung between two posts. This means luncheon. We are off, learning, or trying to learn, the officer's marking whenever we pass a Britisher. I met one of the Canadian nurses who came with the contingent ahead of us."

"Capetown, March 16, 1942.

"This is beautiful country --- all nicely planned and with more flowers than I have ever seen. Also the people are the most hospitable I have ever seen. They won't let you buy a drink: they continually pick you up to take you driving, and always ask you out to dinner. It is really marvelous. Yesterday I climbed Table Mountain (3200 feet) right at Capetown, which was good sport and opened some marvelous scenery of this country, green fields and vineyards.

"March 20

"Of course we also make quite a stir, being Americans because there have not been any large numbers here. Furthermore they look to the U. S. a great deal. There are many U.S. cars here etc."

Capetown, British Barracks. March 16, 1942. 4th. Unit.

"There are Free French in the next building to ours, and everyone is most kind and hospitable to us. We are completely on our own with no special orders except it is my turn to-day to take guard duty from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m., which is simply a question of watching our quarters to prevent theft. The whole group has had more invitations than we can accept, by simply appearing on the streets, or being taken in tow by British Officers. D.R. from Boston and I were invited to tea with the Captain of the ship, and he also gave us his fresh water bathroom the day before landing, which caused a lot of envy. One boy in our group comes from Mississippi and was married two weeks before sailing.. I am to be Godfather to the first offspring.

"April 10.

"I was being taken by an English couple to an old Dutch home built in 1682, with the original grant framed on the wall. The owner was a well off rancher and vineyard owner. The thing that was interesting about this experience was watching two men that were close friends having a pleasant time when their political beliefs and ideas for the future of Africa ---present, past, and future --- were so different, both from inheritance and nationality. The Dutchman born in Africa looks on it as his home and has no interest or connection with Holland, whereas an Englishman is always an Englishman."

"About February 10th.

"Another day --- I saw the most tragic sight. A vessel that had been bombed and burned. It had been a grand ship, and you know how I love them, one of the finest ever to sail. It was at anchor a few miles from a dinky little port. Fore and aft the superstructure was twisted and rent. The bow looked as though she had been hit head on with a giant hammer, and the line from the forepeak to the water line was curved in mute testimony of the pain she must have gone through before the fire began. The flames gutted her, burned her bare of everything and now she sits out in shallow water --- a scarred, rusting derelict. But her masts are up, rigid and strong. She gives the impression of waiting for men to board her, to repair her damaged sides and twisted decks and sail her away."

Mrs. Oscar Tichenor, the plucky mother of George Tichenor, killed in action at Bir Hacheim. Her courage and valiance in continuing with her plans to raise money for an A.F.S. ambulance in her home town, Maplewood, N.J. is an inspiration to all of us to carry on.

EGYPT

"In Camp, near Cairo. 7 March, 1942.

"I am impressed with the efficient way in which we have been received, looked after, and instructed by the British. This camp is a beautiful place; the meals and latrines, 2 cinemas too, a joy after the ship, where everything got dirtier and more disorganized as the trip drew to an end. We have received our equipment, more than several ambulances and trucks, and will get more at our destination, where we proceed in a few days ... . . . I am now trying to write this with a gas mask on; once a week or so we have half-hour periods in which we must wear the wretched things; actually they are rather fine, brand new, very nicely made, handy, and efficient.

"I am full of admiration and praise for the N.C.O.'s who have been giving us several lectures, on maps, convoys, etc. There is no nonsense, no flubdubbery, no 'Bull-Shit', to use the current Britisher' s colloquialism, about them. They are clear and helpful in their explanations, patient, and above all friendly. I think I am going to love being with the British, as I always have. The soldiers on leave whom we meet in the canteens and cinemas are overwhelmingly friendly and lovable."

Undated but postmarked March 10, 1942.

"After six hours on an Egyptian train with three changes to make things easier, we end up in an Army Camp in the Middle of Egypt somewheres. The camp is some sort of a rest camp and replacement center and covers about 70 square miles if it covers an inch. We got in at 11:30 p.m. and were handed tin plates and cups and fed some lamb stew and tea. We were then shown to our barracks and have been here a week now. The barracks consist of tents stuck up in the middle of the desert and the desert is not sand, as I always believed, but rather biggish docks. The floor of the tents is desert and the beds in the tents are desert. We were issued straw mattresses but the desert is more comfortable. We eat out of a tin plate and tin cup and the food is the usual bully-beef 'gold fish' and onions. The tea is the only liquid other than water. Water is plentiful but we have to walk three quarters of a mile for it. To get hot water we have to walk one half mile to the shower house. Needless to say I haven't bathed since we got here. Please don't think I'm complaining.. because as a matter of fact I'm enjoying it all no end. But I can't help but think what a stink would be raised by the mother of Americans if their darling sons were handled the way we (and the whole British Army) are. Why Congress would have investigation after investigation and the papers would burn up with editorials. I well remember the complaints that came up from Camp Jackson about the stoves not working and the food being awful and so on thru the night. Well, by God, the outfits here have for the most part come out from "the blue' (Libyan desert) for a rest before going in again, and they are here for a rest and patching up, so, if you hear any complaints at home, tell the complainers to come on over here and see what the British are made of. And incidentally while on the general subject, when you read about the Buffs and the Pujabs and other famous regiments fighting their way in and out of various places on the desert remember that the Royal Army Service Corp is the outfit that gets them their supplies and gets them out of the hell holes they find themselves in. No one ever hears of the R.A.S.C. but God, they are really doing a job.

"At a later date. Wednesday.

"We're back again in the land of sand and camels and the heat is terrific. The 3rd. Contingent took over our work in Syria, the lucky stiffs. For the last few days we've been getting instructions in desert driving and convoying in trucks. Our N.C.O's have had to attend special lectures on God knows what and while they are busy in the lecture tent the rest of us sit around and read and sweat. I think I must be losing about 10 pounds of water a day. The nights are lovely and cool, however, and one is able to get plenty of sleep; also the Catholics have an excellent canteen only 5 minutes from our camp so we can always get hot tea and something to eat.

"The A.F.S. has had two casualties so far. One boy in the first unit was machine gunned by a Jerry plane and in now doing well in a base hospital. One of our men got hit by a ten ton truck in a blackout and was up here yesterday with one finger in a splint, and then one of the 1st. Contingent died of sand pneumonia last week. A rotten break to say the least.

"The train ride down from Syria was rather interesting. We had two 3rd. class cars and a baggage car end were in them for about --- hours. Luckily I was put in the baggage car to help keep an eye on our duffles so at least I was able to stretch out and sleep on a more or less soft bed of duffle bags. It's rather funny to think back on the trip, what with six of us sitting in the doorway of the car with our feet hanging out as we came down thru Palestine etc. The train stopped every once in a while to pick up water and then every one jumped to buy oranges. At one stop we were about 200 yards from a box car full of fruit. There was a mad rush for the car after we stopped and no sooner did everyone get near the fruit than our train started up. Needless to say there was one helluva rush for the train, and I still haven't figured out why no one was killed. We lived like kings in the box car, however, as we were able to get 16 oranges or 6 grapefruit for one can of bully. I swear the wops will sell their souls for a can of bully and that's no exaggeration. What in God's name they see in the stuff I'll never know.

"Friday. Yesterday we got 12 hours leave in Cairo. We stayed in till 10:30 p.m. and froze the 60 miles back to camp in the back of an open 3 ton Chevie. After getting to bed at 2:15 I had to be up at 5 a.m. in order to go out on a desert drive. Eight of us took four trucks and went about 30 miles from here. We were given maps, sun compasses and prismatic compasses and then told to go to a certain spot on the desert 28 miles away. Of course there are no landmarks to follow so after figuring out the proper bearing we set out, one driving the other holding a prismatic compass and giving directions. McM. and I were the only ones to hit the first two destinations on the nose, but the third one was a goose egg for us as we were at least 5 miles off. The spots on the map which we had to head for, consisted of mounds of sand about 3 feet high and topped with a 2 foot pole, so you can imagine how easy it was to miss our 'target'. We were out for about 14 hours and really had a damned interesting but hot day of it.

"These New Zealanders couldn't be better no matter what. Except for the living quarters it is even bettor than living in the house down at the University. Our work consists of driving the casualties down to the nearest C.C.S. and we are on call day and night. However, we have only had one trip a day to make and the trips are about 150 miles across the mountains. Forty miles of the trip is just like Eagle Rock road, only a bit worse, so we are really a bit on the weary side when we get back home. But the climate is perfect --- snow top mountains etc. --- and it is going to break my heart to move out on Sunday for Egypt. The 3rd. Contingent is coming up here to take our place and we go back to Egypt just in time for the summer heat. I suppose we will end up in the western desert in a couple of weeks time and that is worse than bell on earth, so the men here tell us. They were in the last desert campaign, not to. mention Greece, Crete, and the first desert push so they should know better than anyone, which reminds me to tell you that for all of what the U.S. papers have to say about such things, the Aussies are grossly over-rated and there are such out-fits as the N. Z. Division, the Mauris Battalion, the 6th Indian Division and the 9th Armored Division. I can't understand why the papers at home never mention those troops as they have made one helluva better name for themselves than the Aussies ."

Air mail letter postmarked EGYPT ---22 AP. 42; received May 25, 1942.

"At camp.

"We are living in fairly comfortable tents, eight to a tent, out here in the middle of a gravely, dusty, gently rolling plain. We receive instruction in driving over the desert, which has to be negotiated like you'd sail over a sea, with a sun compass bolted to your fender and a magnetic one around your neck. Landmarks don't exist. You have to plot a course on a chart and be careful to watch your fuel, water, speedometer .... We drill a bit and some of us grumble at it. Australian friends presented us with a fez and English ones with an Italian bayonet. We buy oranges, bananas, and grapefruit from the Egyptians, called 'wogs' by the British. To-day we drove by a sweet water canal and watched the men bathing in it, the women in flowing robes carrying old petrol tins of water on their heads for drinking in the bazaars of little dirty colorful native town. I met a charming young Egyptian who sells goodies, beer and lemonade in a big tent to us. He was educated in an American Mission School. Fortunately Jerry (which is the name given the Germans) has ignored us to date, though some allies we had met and made friends with, have been lost, after we left them. Plans are very fluid.

"As I understand it we will be attached to hospitals along a line and evacuate general cases until Jerry starts a rumpus. To-night we are all writing like mad. Last night we sang American ballads, until taps (played by a good boy on a cornet in the real style). Our contacts with other units has made us respect and understand their position better end we try to explain what America (which they don't know much about) is doing. We hope we can do what we came here to do, and soon I guess, after leaving this stopover, we will do so. Really, we have to take care of ourselves out here, and I believe contact with headquarters will not be too regular. Our responsibility out by ourselves, for equipment and vehicles, will be on us alone. It is too early of course to say what will happen at the end of our year. Anyone who thinks he will be nursemaided, though the Lord knows enough of the boys need it, had better forget it. We operate for what it is worth under the Geneva Card all right and can not bear arms or transport them. Fleas form a counter-irritant for some of the boys. Drill in the hot sun is unpleasant for the older of us, but I think the youngsters like it.! My crepe-soled leather shoes are excellent. Suede tops are what is best though. Some of the boys have been invited to go home. Others, who are misfits, have left of their own accord. Discipline is tightening up and British M.P.'s control the delinquents who go AWOL to the big city. I wear a big sun helmet, polaroid glasses, shorts, English webbing, with musettes duplicating or supplementing my own. The sleeping bag is swell."

"April 21, 1942.

"Cairo is the scene of our most recent conquest. It is really a wonderful place as far as I am concerned, but those who live there (i.e. officers attached to G.H.Q. etc.) say it is very dirty and hence not a pleasant place to remain for any length of time. The pyramids and the sphinx are teeming with Egyptians or wops as they are commonly called who pester you to death with goods or services to sell, and it is commonly accepted that they are world's greatest thieves and would sell their own mothers for a few piastres. We did all the usual things such as climbing through small passages into the old tombs of the King and Queen (dark hot caverns) and riding to the dead center of a tropical storm. It is, of course, an open city in a neutral nation and it seems to be the opinion that its position as such will continue to be recognized by the Axis powers."

Here is reassurance for all parents in regard to the kind of medical care our men are getting. This is the man's own account.

"Two Sundays ego I developed a nice little pain in my right side, so I went over to the hospital for a check-up. Monday morning the doctor went over me again, as he did quite a few times the night before, and then decided that I had had an appendix long enough. Six days after the operation they took the stitches out. Next day, the seventh, I started walking, and on the eighth day I was discharged from the hospital and I have to take it easy for two weeks, which I am doing, .and feeling fine.

"The treatment I was given at the hospital was grand. I can truthfully say I couldn't have gotten better care back in the States. They kept close watch over me for a few days after the operation, and if there was anything I wanted, someone was right there to get it for me.

"While at the hospital the American Consulate's wife visited me quite frequently, twice with ice-cream. The boys in the ward put up a yell about my getting ice-cream and said if a Yank can get ice-cream they had better paint the stars and stripes on their chests. Well, they wound up by getting ice-cream. They called me 'Yank' at the hospital."

May twelfth.

"Among the people I have been stationed with have been Englishmen, Scotchmen and Australians. The Aussies are my favorites, being more nearly like ourselves. They are less reserved and less disposed to tremble at the sight of an officer. I felt particularly sorry for them when the Japs were making such headway. They were all pretty worried but they kept it pretty much to themselves and didn't moan, but they did want to get home."

George O. Tichenor belonged to a small group of those who believed they should not wait until called for, when there was something they could do to help in this mighty conflict. He was not only ready to go at a very early date, but when his effort was frustrated through enemy action, he again volunteered when the opportunity arose and left, before his country's participation, to serve where he was most needed. There is nothing finer then that for which he stood, and in giving his life he gave to others an example of one who was unafraid.

LIBYA.

"April, 1942.

"Since I last wrote, you'll be interested to hear yours truly has travelled some 1200 miles to our present post. And I must say that I prefer this desert 'Springtime' heat to the icy blasts of winter on a Syrian mountain-peak, even though every day how it gets just a little bit more scorching. All in all tho, life in a Libyan outpost isn't really as bad as it's cracked up to be, once you're used to a few fundamentals such as dust and sand in everything, and little enough water to drink, let alone to wash or shave with. I suppose it ought to be some sort of consolation, however, that what water we use tastes so foul that it's quite unpalatable until your stomach settles down to its desert lining --- and don't think that doesn't occur quickly, either! The food, though not exactly what I'd order at a restaurant in old N.Y. is also quite passably good, everything considered --- and when supplemented with the wee bit of fruit our hoarded piastres are able to get us, we manage to stay quite healthily alive.

"Our work at this camp really keeps us pretty busy --- and every couple of weeks, one of our little group of ten is lucky enough to be allowed to go out with a column on patrol, to feel out the Hun and the Eye-tye, and that's when we really get things humming. Not that this is any base camp where we're permanently stationed, far from it ! for few days go by without the well-known Luftwaffe paying us a friendly little visit from the blue above invariably ineffectual, but we have a gorgeous time cheering our A. A. guns, and watching the shell bursts blossom out around the enemy.

"We're very lucky in that only one of our fellows has been hit so far by anything---he had the misfortune to get rather badly machine-gunned by a prowling Messerschmitt, but finally came out of it O. K.

"One of the most fascinating sides of any expedition such as this one is seeing how wrong, even humorous, lots of your preconceived notions are...and of all those, my idea of the desert driving was probably the wrongest. Far from whisking like the wind over tractless wastes of rolling sand, the going out here is the most ferociously hard you can imagine. Over the terrible fields of broken rock, you're lucky if you can go 20 miles an hour, very lucky ---and driving is just one long procession of bumps and crashes, too often punctuated with broken spring leaves and tires which blow out after 4000 miles or less of the unbelievable punishment. In a lot of ways it's rather like some sort of sailing --- we make runs in which we find our way entirely by compass (sun or magnetic) with occasional verification from a petrol tin marker. It's hard to believe, but one of our greatest menaces are our own mine fields, here in this forward area. Frequently their markings are absolutely impossible to see, and in dubious spots, we have to proceed with the utmost caution...in fact, I would almost say that our own mines were our greatest worry; certainly more vehicles around here are lost to them than to any other cause.

"Every day that passes, I'm more glad that I volunteered and was selected for this bunch. Since at least half of our day is invariably spent with fellows that don't speak a word of English, my French is a hundred times better than it ever was before; in another month I ought to be able to speak it really moderately fluently. We've also got a number of very nice Spaniards in the Legion here, so my pidgin Spanish is staggering along as ever. Despite what stories you may hear, most of these Free-French with whom we live are very pleasant and capable fellows ---they're definitely doing their share here in the desert fighting, despite a certain inevitable shortage of equipment.

"We're terribly lucky here to have Alan Stuyvesant as our head of our group with the French ---he's without question the most capable of the Field Service 'officers' that I've seen so far, as well as being one of the nicest men that I've ever met in any account. He's 37, I think, and lives in N.J. so you may perfectly well happen to know him. At any rate, having him over us makes a devil of a lot of difference .....Even when we're just loafing around, a certain amount of which is inescapable, we all have a wonderful time. I think this climate must really agree with me, as I've never looked healthier in my life .... 1 haven't even had a trace of a cold or anything in a devil of a long time."

Written May 10, 1942; and received May 30, 1942.

"Now to answer some of your questions: How do I dress? Right now we're in summer rig (temperature 124 the other day) and that means shorts, stockings to just below the knee, pith helmet. How much do I weigh? about 200. I'm tough as nails and can go all day and night without getting tired (I've done it several times). I'm well with one exception, Desert Throat. The dust and grime clogged up the vocal cords until there are times I cannot speak. It is not uncommon out here though, and I'll get over it quickly enough once I'm out of the Blue for a time. Who cuts my hair? Any wog (slang for native) handy. And for friends: I've made many from Brigadiers down.

"I have a new staff car, you should see it, you should ride in it. It's a cross between riding a bronco and wild bull. God how rough it is when one hits a wadi at too high speed. There is a steel ring bolted to the floor opposite the driver's seat to hold onto. If a man can ride one of those through eight hours of the desert he's tough. He's got to be. I have a new driver (I'd rather drive myself, and do a great deal, but in convoy I must be free to give signals from the conning hole in the roof of the cab) ---he's a swell kid (18) from Michigan .....I've been out of the Syrian desert for a time now, resting and refitting, and we're moving up in a few days, into the Blue where the work will be harder, living tougher (dugouts) sand fleas, snakes, flies. We have had a few casualties. One of my boys died of dust pneumonia, another got machine gunned in his ambulance (Krusi from California), but on the whole we've done well and are well.

"Movement orders are in --- we move off in a few days. It will be long and hard and tough ..... P.S. Had a hair cut to-day. Gawd, but I'm grey. A few more months and I'll be white!"

EGYPT.

This is how it is when our men finally arrive over seas as described by a member of the second unit:

"On landing ashore we line up and meet Col. Richmond, head of the entire unit, and Major Benson, second in command, then march down the narrow beggar-ridden streets of the ancient squalid town to our train.

"En route mail is passed out ---Richmond brought down from Cairo ...As the train jogs slowly deeper into the desert, we stare out the windows at the new, strange country. In the growing dusk the terrain is beautiful, lush green oasis framed by palm trees against the flat, flat stretches of rolling sand.........Between the oasis are huge construction camps, tremendous landing fields, big engineering jobs that could only be sanctioned for war. From heavily barb-wired prison yards all along the way, Libyan captives make obscene gestures at us or heil defiantly ...Four hours later in the middle of the desert our train pulls up. In heavy darkness we unload and reload our luggage into five trucks which await our arrival, then head for camp. At eleven we arrive. There the mess sergeant fills our tin plates with slum mulligan from a big iron boiler, give us tea and hefty slabs of bread to go with the stew. Under kerosene lantern light inside our tents we roll out our bed rolls over dusty ticks of straw."

"Soldiers on leave are all alike. They can't sit still. They have to keep moving from one spot to another and no spot ever satisfies for the night spots in every town are the same. They are dark and dingy and usually dirty. They are all jammed with soldiers drinking bad liquor at heavy prices. There are never more than two or three women and sometimes you see soldiers dancing together for lack of women.

"We're sitting at a table before mugs of beer when Tommy joins us. From him and others in the course of the evenings we get a graphic picture of the war. With the Royal Artillery, Tommy has been through Dunkirk, Greece, and Tobruck. He had his ear drums broken by gunning, was six weeks in the hospital with a nervous disorder, 'Bomb Happy' they called it. 'Every time a noise sounded, I ducked my head in the sand; like a bloody ostrich I was, ' he laughed. He tells of Dunkirk: 'Jerry'd dive bomb us and when we exhausted our ammunish we was helpless. Then they'd come through with their tanks. We'd retreat all night, then dig in by day. For seven days and nights I never slept a wink. The last day, ten miles from the sea, we got orders to burn everything. We holed in on the beach and waited. When a ship would come we'd make a run for her out from the dunes. If you was lucky you got on the boat. Out of the three hundred men on the little boat I climbed on, one hundred got over. The rest was straffed by Jerry in the channel.'

"We become accustomed to the blaze of the noonday sun, the bitter chill of the silver dawns, and the grey-brown dustiness of everything. We take as a matter of course sleeping on the ground, shaving in cold water, no butter at supper, one course meals without second helpings.

"After ten days bard work, we're granted a day's leave into Cairo. In our ambulances we drive along the Sweetwater Canal, built hundreds of years before Christ between the Red Sea and the Nile. Ancient wooden barges with great canvas sails ply up and down stream. Wogs pull some of them by ropes from the banks. The surrounding lowlands, green with wheat and other crops is irrigated by pumping wheels turned by blindfolded oxen. Women with baskets on their beads, men with bundles of sticks on their backs, camels loaded with bales of straw, wogs on asses, clutter up the thin rutted roadstream.

"Cairo we find is a city of contrasts. The concrete commercial buildings, the palm gardens, Sheppards Hotel, the slick bars of the English section, have all the swank of upper class Britain. The educated Egyptians, a scant seven percent of the full population, live in equally expansive quarters. But wogs, the half castes, the uneducated, the diseased, who fill the back streets and alleys are a miserable lot, dirty lice-covered in frousy turbans and greasy old gowns. We wander the streets besieged by beggars and vendors, then head for the Pyramids. The product of a hundred thousand men working steadily for thirty years fifty-six centuries ago, the gigantic masonworks still Egypt, the symmetry and beauty of her art, the self-aggrandizement of preoccupied leaders at the expense of human slavery.

"For two weeks we prepare our convoy into Syria, then just as the sun has turned the desert light grey, we head out of camp.

"All day long we drive by convoy, eighty yards apart, across the vast stretch of the Sinai desert. Wog gangs out in the middle of nowhere repair the breaks in the thin strip of asphalt, shovel back the continually shifting sand dunes. We pass from Egypt into Palestine. By an old stone well ancient as Palestine itself we draw up our vehicles, over a gas stove behind the mess truck, stew in a big boiler and hot tea are made ready. In the semi-darkness we eat, then roll out our beds beside our trucks. We've had a long day and again tomorrow must rise early. We sleep facing the open sky, hugging close to our ambulance to break the mountain wind. At three in the morning a shower breaks. Some sleep straight through it, others duck into their ambulances. I pull my bed roll underneath the big truck and get in another hour of rest.

"All the next day we drive .... When we stop every hour for five minutes, native kids jump on our running boards to sell us oranges. Most of us are broke but we barter issued cigarettes and old gasoline tins for fruit and they are very happy. We pass through Gaza, city of Samson and Delilah, oldest fortress in the world. By evening we've reached an army barracks where we roll out our beds on a concrete floor and sleep deeply.

"After supper of stew, most of us head for the Garrison cinema, the film is eight years old and sound track tinny; when the projector breaks, beer bottles crash against the front of the building and a good natured riot nearly starts. A newsreel on western desert life lauds the soldiers for their indomitable courage, their perseverance in the face of tremendous odds. The extravagant praise is greeted with cat calls. These desert men don't feel very heroic. Most of them signed in '39, came over while the Mediterranean was still sage, have been in this barren land for two years, just returned from nine months 'in the Blue', army lingo for front line desert. Truck drivers for the Service Corp, tell of dive bombers straffing the road to Tobruck. A dozen of their friends they left behind. They don't like the war. They hope it will be over inside of a year. We drink to that, for they want to get home. They show us pictures of their homes in England, some now bombed. One shows snapshots of his wife and kid. He doesn't seem homesick, just enjoys talking about them .... Next morning Jerries raid a town less than thirty miles away. The alarm siren sounds but I sleep straight through it. The dawn is magnificent --- a silver sky above white sand, the air cold and brisk. . . .The smoke gets thicker about our table. A big boned, rugged Australian sits down with us. We put on his big felt hat, joke with him about its resemblance to the western ten-gallon hat. Eventually he recounts his experience in Greece: 'We was in the hills holed in behind rocks and boulders on the mountainside with machine guns but the Germans come down in droves. Parachute jumpers, men out of Junkers. We'd shoot them before they hardly get out of their planes but they'd keep on coming. Some of the planes they'd land anywhere --- wreck them landing just to get men down and the river was full of them but more followed and filled their places. We shot' 'em down all over the place and it was awful but they kept on comin', comin' like they was sort of dazed or maybe doped. I was on the road most of the time. Nights we'd drive over the hairpin mountain turns without lights. Daytime we'd be straffed and bombed all the time. Whenever a spotter would see a plane we'd shut off the motor and make a dive out the side of the truck, run to beat hell for thirty yards, and dig in the ground. Hitler's birthday late in May it was, Jerry filled the sly with planes to celebrate, thousands of them. We was in and out of our truck that day like a bloody merry-go-round. In seven hours we made only twenty miles. But the Greek people were wonderful to us. When we retreated through town they'd fill our trucks with food though they was starving themselves. I'd like to go back there before the war's over and help get the Greeks back their freedom.'

"A tall, handsome New Zealander notices our American insignia, comes over and joins us. Before long we drag from him the story of his capture by the Germans at Sidi Asseiz last November:

'There was shelling all around and I was in a hole firing to beat hell when all of a sudden Jerry was covering me from behind and I put up my hands and got herded into a big circle of about a thousand of us. Rommel himself came out to have a look at us. He's a big, heavy bloke with a monocle, a fine looking man. He spoke to us in very clear English, congratulated us on our fine fight and then ordered the cook to give us breakfast. We walked twenty miles through the sand to Bardia busting our feet. There we were put in a stone-walled enclosure. It was winter and cold and we had no tents and only one blanket each. Three of us would sleep together with one underneath us and two above us. When it rained the blankets got soaked and we'd be stuck. Day time, half the time, we stayed in our blankets it was so bloody cold. For food we got unground coffee, a cup in the morning and evening, and at noon a cup of macaroni. We lived on our own fat for the first two weeks but after that when we'd get up to walk we'd see black for a minute. We couldn't shave, never took off our clothes for six weeks for there was no water to wash in. We played cards and slept to pass the time. January first and second there was bombing all around us. We got bombed by our own men. All we could do was lie there and wait for Jerry had us covered with machine guns. But all of a sudden there was a silence and we knew the Germans had moved out. Then our men came in and released us. We went crazy when we saw them. We cheered and danced and cried and tipped over things and made a rush for the German food stores and started the Jerry gramophone and pounded, played and went mad the whole hog. In another week we'd have been sent to Italy for the duration.'

Every canteen in the middle east, every front line is made up of men like these. They talk shop almost entirely because the war now occupies their existence completely. Even when they get leave, there is little to do but meet their old comrades and joke about old times. They are hardy, weather-beaten, and tougher than the conditions to which they have been subjected. They've been through two years of fighting and they still grin when they talk about what they've been through. They make up in courage for lack of equipment. Sometimes we feel like children talking to them; and yet they are no older than are we."

February 28, 1942. Probably Egypt.

"This business of being an American is certainly- marvelous ! You see, we are the first Americans to come over here. and the reception has been marvelous. If I go down town to do a little shopping I begin to feel like a home town politician ---people, absolute strangers, stop to ask me if I am an American, and then the fun begins. It doesn't matter whether they are Egyptians, Syrians or French, or what they are, so long as they can speak English they want to do something for you. Be proud that you are Americans. It stands for faith, hope and power the world over.

"Now that we are working we have been given our ambulances and it is arranged so that each driver is responsible for his own ambulance --by golly they are making a mechanic out of me ! The day before yesterday I greased the whole thing myself, to say nothing of taking the motor apart almost completely --- and getting it together again! We are given a complete mechanic's outfit, but the job is to hang on to it. You see if anyone is missing a tool the only place one can get another is by relieving someone else of what he needs. For instance, I found myself without a gas cap the other day, so I just went out and took one off the nearest ambulance. That, I'll have you know is not thieving. The theft came in the one who took my gas cap! --- I was merely protecting own interests by getting another. In the army, that is known as scrounging. It's just a step above thievery. C' est la guerre ! The other night I had an invitation to a wealthy Egyptian's home and I didn't have the slightest idea how to get to the address. So I stepped into a taxi, and I assure you it was only by the grace of Allah and his prophets that I am still, here. What a ride ! The taxi driver hadn't the slightest idea of where I wanted to go, but said he could find it; so, with all the nonchalance of a debutante lighting a Murad, I got into the taxi, little realizing what was in store for me. You must realize this is in a blackout---the streets are just wide enough for an undersized bullock cart (in the old section) and that the cars are the vintage of 1930, and I somehow got the impression that the drivers would all like to commit hari-kari while they drive. In the first ten seconds we zoomed around the wrong aide of a trolley, scraped the knees of a couple of unlucky camels standing in the gutter, and sent a few hundred Arabs flying into their shops to get out of the way. At the first corner we came to an Englishman who happened to be on the street in his car at the same time we were ---the result was our fenders kissed. Naturally the Englishman came blustering out using language that no well brought up Englishman would use. This continued for about five minutes during which time my Arab driver sat blandly behind his wheel not so much as muttering a word. And then, when the other had finished, he looked up with a mystical look in his eye and said, 'It's all right. Allah drives'. All I can say is, that if Allah was driving, we were well on our way to hell.

"At present I am living with a bunch of Australians. For three months I have heard

nothing but what a tough bunch the Aussies were. In Capetown they were said to have literally torn the place apart, and wherever they have been we hear stories of their prowess. So when I found out I was to be stationed with them I began looking for a good revolver. To say the least, they know how to take care of themselves, but now that I know them I realize they are fine lads. They're re certainly good to us. P.S. I'm using the typewriter in the Australian QM's office: the Australian major in whose office I am just came in wanting to use this typewriter, and I, in blissful ignorance of the uninitiated to army life, told him I wasn't through, but that he could back when I was ! Golly, it's not everyone who can kick a major out of his own office!"

SYRIA

"29 March. Palestine is very beautiful indeed and one can well appreciate the piety and joy of the Ancient Hebrews as they came upon it after the sand and rock of the desert. The land greens gradually, almost imperceptibly; but when the verdure is finally reached it comes as a revelation .......I felt during our drive through Palestine--- all too brief and I long to return to explore it intimately--- as I have never felt in any place, that it was especially sacred, the sort of spot God might chose to make Himself more directly known to men. My fleeting impression of it was that it has an aloof lovely quality of it's own. I wish I could be more specific, but first I should certainly have to spend more time there. One thing struck me, a curious combination in the countryside of ruggedness and of bounteousness.

"We spent the night at some sort of transit camp. The nearest settlement of any kind was a little village of Jewish immigrants. It was charming, very rural, surrounded by high and beautifully kept fields; yet also urban, with modernistic cottages and several diminutive cafes and shops. Most of the people we saw seemed to be of German origin, though we thought we heard some Polish speech too. I was completely converted to Zionism. And one cannot have much regard for the Arabs, or least those I have seen, for they are dirty and unreliable people. They should be shoved out of Palestine, I think.

"I was enchanted by Beirut, which I fancy resembles Marseilles. It is much more French than I would ever had guessed, if, I am ashamed to admit, I ever thought much about it. The complexity of French, native Lebanese (the people of Lebanon are very sensitive about their identity), Arabic, and finally British influences makes the place fascinating. One of my adventures will amuse you --- I wandered, accidentally, into the Greek Orthodox Cathedral. A very friendly priest (they all seem to wear beards and to let their hair grow long at the back, wearing it in pig-tails) talked to me, and on learning my nationality ---we look at first glance you see, just like British or Dominion soldiers since we wear their 'battle dress'---insisted on taking me to see the Metropolite, or Bishop, of Beirut, who has many relatives in the U.S. He was a splendid old bloke. We conversed very haltingly in French, and he gave me Turkish coffee and cigarettes and had me shown around his rather dowdy 'palace'."

"April 6, 1942.

"Damascus itself is very interesting ---second largest city in the East, and one of its chief treasures is the great Mosque of the Sultans---has had a very interesting history through the last 2000 years. Originally there was a huge Roman Temple to Jupiter on the spot, which was torn down in the time of Constantine the Great to make way for a church, only the front pillars of the Roman arcade remain. Then Damascus fell under the rule of the Turks in the 13th Century, the church was incorporated into the huge Mosque a large part of this church is still standing, including the tomb of John the Baptist ---it is very beautiful with large courtyards which lead to many small rooms in which the faithful pray. All done in mosaic and inlaid work, with magnificent wrought iron and copper gates and priceless Persian rugs on the walls."

"April 10, 1942.

"I have had the most marvelous trip. I took my staff car and throwing away the cares of commanding Section One, I took off from Beyrouth and over the mountains to Damascus. That is about 65 miles and the passes are filled with snow, so in that short space one goes from the sea through the snows of Lebanon (not far from the famed Cedars) down into a valley of striking beauty and across the Anti-Lebanon and then into Damascus which lies at the southern foot of the Syrian desert. Here I spent the rest of the day and night, and the next day plunged into the desert---not alone for machines cannot travel this route singly. They must go in convoy. For 40 miles or so there is a good road (good for this country and about equal to the roads up into the Valley of the Moon), and then there is a sharp turn to the east at Qtaifem and from there on it is every desert rat for himself.

Crossing this shaley sand are many tracks stretching wavering fingers, wadi gnarled fingers, in every direction, but the compass tells you which are the right ones to take. There are 150 miles of this flat, glaring sand with only an occasional break in the monotony such as a Bier or well ....a camel caravan ...a herd of gazelle racing across the flats ...a rocketing flight of sand grouse ...or giant buzzards feasting on a fallen camel, and twice we saw the ruins of old Roman temple. For the last hour or so in this desert run a landmark rears itself from the desert... a butte of land jutting from the flat tableland. At last we come to it, and around it, and come on the most amazing and fantastic sight one will ever see. Here in the desert are the remains of a huge Roman city (Tedmore was the name---now called Palmyre.) I understand National Geographic did a piece on Palmyre some time back. I've also seen Baalbeck or Heliopolis, as the Romans called it, but still think Palmyre more spectacular rising as it does from the desert."

Probably Egypt

"April 15, 1942.

"Our living conditions are quite amazing. They remind me of camp day. We sleep on straw ticks right on the sand---one squad (8 people) to a tent. Now a tent is quite all right to live in in Canada; but out here it has great disadvantages---the main one being sand-storms. For two days we had quite a high wind---usually starting in the middle of the morning and continuing till late in the afternoon. It is most uncomfortable outside, with dust and sand getting up your nose and in your eyes, and stinging your legs (if you are foolish enough to wear shorts). It seeps through every opening into the tent and covers your beds and clothes and baggage. It is really a nasty mess. It fact, it was so bad two days ago that it blew down about three tents and the mess tent. Fortunately, we weren't eating at the time, but during meals the sand and dust sifted in there, covering the tables and getting into your food. The butter on the table was unrecognizable, being covered with a brown coating dust, which you had to scrape off. The rest of the time, however, the weather has been quite pleasant---the days warm and the nights so cold that I have needed two heavy blankets."

Do you remember the two men we left in Kartoum in the last bulletin? Here is the account of the last lap of their wanderings.

"April 14, 1942.

"We got away on the 24th, and had a nice, if uneventful flight to Cairo. We reported to Col. Richmond and after spending the night at the hotel, the next morning we left for the mobilization camp to get outfitted. Later the following afternoon we got on the train with a scheduled wait-over from 7:30 to 9:15. While waiting I got very friendly with a British officer. He invited us to sit in first class with. him and offered to help with our luggage now grown to monumental proportions. D., in the meanwhile, had run across Capt. F., the chap who travelled up the Nile with us, who asked us to sit with him. The Britisher, D. and I jumped into the first class coach, but Capt. wound up in a coach two cars in front of us---we were the fourth and he was the second. About four in the morning, there was quite a jar --- it woke me up out of a doze, but I thought we were back in the Nile wacking into the bank. The officer leaned out of the window --yelled to me to follow him and then jumped (the train was stopped). I followed him to the head of the train, there to discover that we had run head on into another train coming the other way. The first two cars were completely demolished. There simply was nothing left of them -they were so telescoped that together they occupied the space of less than the length of one. I had, by some instinct, brought my flashlight---we were the first to arrive on the scene. We immediately began searching for injured and I found one man pinned down under a pile of wreckage. I pulled him out --- he was dead---it was Capt. F. All in all, we had three dead ---four more died that day, and I later heard that two more died some time after. Besides there were 14 or 15 very badly hurt in addition to a score of people with lacerations of one sort or another. There was an M.O. on the train with us and he saw my uniform and asked me to help him take care of the injured. I spent the next six hours dressing wounds, putting on temporary splints, administering morphine, and generally getting in the M.O's way. There was a Goods Train in a nearby siding and we unloaded a lot of its cargo and put the wounded in its place. The M.O. asked me to accompany him on the train. We two took them up to a Convalescence Depot some forty miles further along. That was quite a ride. I held a British General who had been very badly hurt. The jouncing was almost more than he could stand. Finally I got him to sleep by giving him another half grain of morphine but it was obvious that his chances of living were very slim indeed. He later died, I heard. We got the depot and there the patients were taken off our hands and we were taken to the mess, given some breakfast and a place to lie down pending the arrival of our train.

"I make the run to X on the average of about four times a week. It's a tiring journey because the roads are so very bad, so very full of all kinds of traffic and we have to keep moving at quite a speed wherever possible. Imagine trying to drive from Pittsfield to Hamp in a half ton truck loaded to the gunnels, at flight with only your parking lights on, and then be required to make the trip in an hour and a quarter over roads that have been subjected to shell fire. Double the length and you've some idea what this job can be like.

"Syria. 21 April. Hitler's birthday.

"One sees so much, and so fleetingly and one forgets so quickly. I despair at pinning down how much I have been stirred, even quickened, by the visit here. There are so many aspects---the geographical, that is, the loveliness and the severity of the countryside which is just now ripening into spring; the soldiers we meet and talk to and live with ---and again, the exciting atmosphere of an occupied country; the ancient, there are some marvellous antiquities in this part of the world, and I have been lucky enough to see some of them; the sociological, i.e. the curious and complicated ethnic picture. The people round about are at first maddening, they are so incredibly stupid about getting in the way of your ambulance in their rickety carts or on their scrawny overworked miniature donkeys. But once you master the irritation their childishness is loveable.

"But my big news, which I know will make you rejoice for me, is that I have had a trip to Jerusalem, which I had not realized is predominantly Jewish. It's antiquities are fewer than expected, partly because of the havoc of the earthquake. But I was moved deeply and excited by what I saw. The places of deepest interest are the supposed sites of the Crucifixion and Burial of Our Lord. Their atmosphere is awe-inspiring and would move the hardest-bitten old skeptic. I could have wished for less modern decoration and more medieval, but at least the shell of the Crusader Church is there. Among other sights one of the loveliest was the Garden of Gethsemane, which is perfectly charming ---very small with about a dozen ancient olive trees and full of flowers. And from the top of the Mount of Olives you get a splendid view east to the Dead Sea and west over the city, which is built on several hills and yet seems to be in a cup of hills.

"In the evening we went to concert by the Palestine Symphony Orchestra. It was a great disappointment; the P.S. is supposed to be very good, but that evening it could not have been up to full strength, and it was unspeakably bad. They essayed, with incredible audacity, Beethoven's Ninth, the singing was frightful and was in Hebrew which did not help."

Probably Syria.

"April 21, 1942.

"Attached as we are to Aussies, we eat well. Breakfast of mush, tea, eggs or sausage, always bread, butter and jam. Lunch usually includes meat and a bit of vegetable, tea, etc. Our dinner always meat, vegetables, (very limited) sometimes spuds, tea, bread, butter, jam, dessert, catsup, worcestershire sauce, plenty of salt, pepper, sugar, etc. All three meals are hot. Also have a bit of cheese, which, with ample butter, fills in for milk, which we do not have. Can get milk and ice-cream fairly cheap outside. Can also buy Chesterfields, Nestle's chocolate bars, American coffee etc. Cigs are 20 cents a pack. Sleeping quarters here are beds with mattresses and plenty of blankets. We are in a good building formerly a private school. We have 7 or 9 men in each two rooms, 2 in another, and I have a large room for my office and quarters --- very nice indeed. I have furniture and a place to lock my camera."

Late April, 1942.

"Somewhere in Syria.

"On our way out to the little city of Bethlehem, we stopped in to inspect Rachel's Tomb, about halfway between Jerusalem and Bethlehem. There we met a young Jewish boy, whom we immediately took with us as sort of guide. He showed us the entire Church of the Nativity, the Armenian chapel, the Roman and Greek Catholic chapels, the crypts, and the actual site of the manger where Christ was born. As we were clustered around the manger --now somewhat glorified and surrounded by a vast church --- a venerable Franciscan monk, swathed in black robes and rosaries, having a long flowing black beard (the personification of a bona fide monk) came up to us and said, 'Are you fellows Americans? Me, I'm from Houston, Texas. Business here is lousy. How goes it with you?' ..This speech spoken within arms length of the mangers. Oh the far-reaching arms of the great U.S.A. . . . . ! And at the wonderful dimly lit church of Gethsemane, wherein is the rock on which Jesus went thru His agony, we met another young Franciscan friar from Rhode Island, who was so glad to see a fellow American he almost wept!".

"Syria, April 27, 1942.

"The A.F.S. group whom we are replacing were colorful and irresponsible. The cleanup job and repair work we are having to do is correspondingly great. We only brushed in passing, as they left the day after we arrived. For all of one morning we scoured the tile floor of the room the eight of us are sleeping in. Baskets full of old bottles, decaying food, and sticky jam were carried down into the waiting arms of the natives..... Our room is small, but larger than any I have been in since leaving college. There are six beds, one of which I was lucky enough to draw. The seventh member of the party is now at a distant outpost for a week's sojourn, and B.P., our remaining member, bunks on the roof, using one of the stretchers as a bed.

"So far we have not had time to do justice to the town, but we have discovered a little restaurant which dispenses tasty cups of cocoa, and delicious patisserie à la française. Officially the cakes are sold only over the week-end. Actually if one waits patiently until the crowd begins to thin, he can motion to the headwaiter, and in his best French ask if there are any cakes down below. Feeling like a relic of the prohibition days, he will tiptoe down darkened stairs to a glass case, draped with cloth. The waiter unveils row upon row of choice cakes, and the lawbreaker selects his quota .... I think I could now 1) grease, 2) oil, 3) tighten up a car, 4) put in new brake fluid, and 5) use, with masterful skill, a little brush that looks like the type which you used to use to butter waffle irons. Tomorrow I may learn more, but you know me and little gadgets. I'm all thumbs, and whenever I stand Up I crack head on an open door."

"May 9, 1942.

"We distinguish very little, except for necessary routine, between officers and men and it is really a democratic and pleasant way to carry on. The British are the extreme opposite and can't understand why we don't salute our officers constantly, or how we can be seen eating, drinking etc. with them .... We have been attached to New Zealanders, who are really a great bunch. We like them enormously and seem to get along very well with them. As you know, the Field Service operates in small units so there have been very few of us together.

"We get even scantier news than you and are even more in the dark about what goes on around us. It is fair to say, however, that morale is generally high and also that people in it probably worry far less than those at home. They have all adopted the sensible philosophy that if you have it coming to you there's not a damn thing you can do about it and hence worry is futile."

"May 9, 1942.

"Two of us spent three full days at Tiberius on the Sea of Galilee thoroughly enjoying it. We lived very inexpensively at a home affiliated with the Church of Scotland. The food was a bit native but good --- rice and a bit of meat wrapped in grape leaves and cooked ---things of that sort. Did no sightseeing as such ---merely walked, swam and rowed on the lake ---it's a beautiful spot; the blue lake surrounded by hills, with Hebron in the background ---the sort of place that is so peacefully beautiful that just being there gives you complete satisfaction. There is no doubt but that it was Jesus' favorite spot."

"The C.C.S with which we are attached had only gotten started going full speed during last week. The run of suicides, shootings, automobile accidents, appendectomies, etc. which occur in civil life seems to similar in army life, only intensified considerably. I have been in an awful lot of unpleasant scenes recently, but they don't make me feel queer anymore as they used to. I have seen operations of all the common sort, there being 8 or 10 done here most every day, and once one has seen an able surgeon perform, he can't help but have a new admiration for them. The complications entirely unforeseen which arise when one starts in to straighten out a seriously injured automobile accident case are unbelievable, and yet these surgeons seem to be competent to handle anything which comes.

"We had a visit the other day from the big boss of this whole part of the world, and he turned out to be a grand fellow. He was inspecting the C.C.S. when he suddenly popped into our room and said 'hello' to us. While anxious colonels, majors, and other lesser fry stood about at attention chomping at the bit, he sat down on the edge of one of our beds and had a chat with us, expressed considerable appreciation for what we were doing, and so forth. We stood or lay about at ease, much to the anxiety and horror of his satellites, and enjoyed it all immensely. Later on I happened to be greasing my ambulance when he went by, out back of the hospital, and again he stopped and had a chat. Last Saturday we had a Rugby, game with a neighboring C.C.S. and I played for our side and had a grand time. We happen to have some very good players here and accordingly it was a really good game, none of this Yale stuff. Except that the field was rather heavily imbedded with shrapnel bits with rough edges, due to bombings, we had a good place to play... Easter day we had a softball game with some of our neighbors. With all the chatter and scrapping that was going on, we attracted an amazed multitude of onlookers, who before the end of it were all right in the spirit of it all, booing the referee, and behaving as obnoxiously as any baseball crowd at home.

"The first thing I did was to go off on an all day hunting trip which wasn't very successful. We had 2 bird dogs and a guide, and 3 of us and we climbed up and down the rocky sides of 4,000 --- 8,000 ft. mountains all day long hunting for the partridge which live way up high among the rocks. We finally got a few, but apparently the recent, unusually heavy snows had killed a great many of the birds. We were hunting as the guest of a Pasha who rules most of the mountainous country in Southwestern Syria and when the hunting turned out to be pretty poor, we returned to the Pasha's house for a feast and some drinks. The old boy had brought in a lamb from one of his flocks and was about to kill it and roast it over an open fire for us, as is the local custom. We heard the darn thing bleating outside the door and the idea of eating it in about an hour was too much for us; we told the Pasha we never ate lamb. Accordingly we ate a lot of other greasy food and drank wine and had quite a party. The local drink is an absinthe stuff called Arak, which is terribly potent and tastes worse, and he had us drinking that too. He is sort of a tribal leader and local king---owns vast flocks, is very wealthy, and settles all disputes between people of his area. He dresses in a long white silk robe with a white Arabic headdress, and, oddly enough, little white canvas tennis shoes. He has a great pistol at his hip and his strange appearance is accentuated by a mighty black moustache which curls up at each end.

"There is skiing very near by and one fine day I am going to be off for a bit of it, if an opportunity comes along.

"I have learned more about automobiles in the last few weeks than I ever thought I would. All sorts of strange things have become now quite familiar objects. My worst error has been the dropping of the end of a grease gun down in the transmission of my car, all of which necessitated a tremendous dismantling and reassembling job. The care which the British Army orders for it vehicles is very strict in every realm except as to the driver. I have never been so terrified by fast driving as I have out here. Narrow streets filled with donkeys, camels, and people, or winding mountain roads are all taken at an equally high speed and there have been a tremendous number of casualties among both civilians and soldiers because of it. These people have suddenly found themselves transferred from a world of donkey carts to a chaos of tooting horns and high speed 3 ton trucks roaring along in convoy.

"We have seen representatives of almost every armed force in the world since we have been out here. So many different uniforms of Free this, and Free that, as well as all the Allied ones, that it is impossible to tell whom to salute.

"The tales I have heard of this war, sitting around in our tent of an evening, are quite unbelievable. Men who have been in Dunkirk, Greece, Crete and up in "The Blue" are around continually and what they have been thru in the last few years is almost incredible. Tales of almost continual bombing for twenty days in France with never a sight the entire time of a British plane, tales of hundreds of those screaming Stuka dive bombers coming over London at one time to make an inferno out of the city and nearly drive the hardiest person mad with fear, accounts of whole regiments being wiped out by better equipped mechanized forces, innumerable actual telling by different soldiers of how their mates standing beside them were blown to bits, and so it goes ad-infinitum. Tales of the Aussies are told everywhere ---how there are prison camps full of Itie and Jerry prisoners with fingers missing because they were so unfortunate as to have had nice looking rings---how towns have been nearly wrecked by a bunch of them getting drunk and going on the rampage--- how they have been given far more credit all along the line than they deserve. Almost everyone out here will agree that the Aussies, the Indians, the South Africans, and the Nigerians are good soldiers, but that none can compare with the British Tommy, and there is no doubt that they are the pluckiest lot and have taken the worst of everything from beatings right down to pay and food. They get terrible rations compared with the New Zealanders and Aussies and their pay is minute, not one quarter of what some others get.

"The hospital is high on a cliff with a small town directly beneath us, and beyond the town is a whole range of snow capped peaks while off on the right there is a gradual slope down to a very fertile plain, beyond which again rise snowy peaks. The first day we arrived here it was a sparkling clear day with the crispness of an October morning at home and suddenly weather broke and we had 4 days of hard snow. We were all but completely cut off and we had some terrific jobs getting patients through. The roads over the mountains are a mass of switch backs and terrific up and down grades, and it is some driving when a skid will often mean a 500 foot drop. I remember such roads in Colorado, but we never had the snow there. Fortunately we have heaters in our cars, which are really Dodge trucks with 4 wheel drive and an ambulance body. On one occasion I was stuck for several hours way up on a pass, but fortunately there was a French guard house or sentry post very close by, and I was able to pass the time very pleasantly there. My French came back to me very quickly and I have been getting along quite well with it, even acting as interpreter here in the hospital when people from the town come up .... The New Zealand cook we have here is the best I have yet run into and we are getting very good meals, even if not large in quantity.

"One of the grandest things about this town is its people. They are almost all Christians, and they are without doubt as kindly and hospitable a group as I have met. We have been wined and dined regularly and I have had a wonderful time brushing up on my French. The municipal doctor is a particular friend of mine, and I find myself stopping in for a cup of coffee, a glass of Arak, or merely a chat quite regularly. He is a relation of the prime minister of Lebanon and comes from one of the finest families in the country. He is very young and has an amazing following among the townspeople who look upon him as a god. The towns people, though apparently rather backward and living in houses which from without look pretty scrubby, are an extremely intelligent lot, living in homes which are actually very beautiful though simply arranged. So many people from these parts have gone out to America, that we are extra well received. The greatest difficulty of all is getting away, because they fear, no matter how long you have stayed, that you are leaving because you are bored or don't like the food.

"I went through the town that Christ lived in until he started preaching. Here for thirty years he worked as a carpenter. All over the city churches and shrines are erected for this and that. Here he did this and here he did that. Of course nothing remains of the old city but the atmosphere and that only when you make an effort and say 'here is the Place'. About a few miles away is the Mount of Beatitudes. Here be preached his sermon 'Blessed are the so and so's.' Down below in the Valley is the sea upon which he walked. It is about the size of the lake West Palm Beach Florida gets its water from, and to call it a sea is complimenting it. I don t like to be called a cynic but if the wind was blowing a tempest as the Bible says then perhaps it was possible to walk ashore as all the water would have been blown away. from the shallow side leaving land (not dry) able to walk upon. The same thing happened to Lake Okuchobe in 1928 when the hurricane blew all the water off one side. I wouldn't be cynical as I said before but I am wondering if all the so called miracles couldn't be explained away in such a fashion. I suppose they could if you wanted to, but it does something to one's faith to visit the places I have visited. "

"May 2. A recent letter from Cairo.

"I climbed the pyramids by moonlight. Our camp is on the desert not far off, and so I saw them daily. Cairo has nothing like the richness of Damascus. It is a pander of a place and the pyramids seem remote from It. They, by the way, are so very famous as to be boring. It takes me some time to realize their enormity and history. They are so huge and so simple that they seem more freak nature than art, and so perfectly built and formed that they are subtle for all their expanse. They have accepted time and antiquity instead of time's accepting them, and by their static pose to guard and honor the dead---not death---but the embalmed bodies of the dead, which is a paltry and insignificant purpose, no matter how deluded by the temporal magnificence and by ferocious power those living dead kings were. Think of it. They wore out a quarter of the men a season in their building! They negate and spoil time. Time is magnificent in its sweep, and these things, by denying time, have seemed to miss out in the magnificence of things past and present. They belong rather to phenomena than to humanity, and their superb uselessness takes imagination to encompass. Like the Empire State Building they were built for man's vanity rather than for his glory, and so both are cold and unevocative, except to tourists. Well, I thought, there are the pyramids! They are like some monstrous frozen temporary accident, rather than like Man's progress in art and understanding, and they are a dead end, a paragraph, an abrupt stop in history and in architecture and engineering. They are whims---whims of stone. They are monstrous and unemotional (or are they? the emotion is in the creation rather than of their own creation), and they sit out on the desert like some terrifying kindergarten blocks, or like some solved geometry. What is as dull and useless outside the Classroom as a solved problem? The virtue lies in posing of the problem and in the solving, and then in the progression to bigger problems. Surely it is a paltry sort of problem that they solve. And only monsters would want to solve their problem anyhow. Their simplicity is evil, and because their purpose failed, for thieves rifled the King's tomb as it should have been rifled, all their purpose was useless, and they remain ironic monuments to man's base and selfish and hollow vanity. However, by moonlight they are fine, and by reminding us constantly of man's enormous littleness, they are not failures. Their greatness lies in their moral, of all things, which is Vanitas, vanitatis (if my Latin holds which I doubt) and a poem has greater connotations than they shall ever have except to stupid minds.

"It is hot. The sun shines into my ambulance. The stretcher racks and four stretchers are folded, the blankets are folded and covered up against the dust. The bidons d'eau and d'essence make handy tables. I am sitting on the side bench. The wind has died down at this time, for it is evening now, the light takes on a Canaletto softness and clarity. In the early morning skylarks sing, and the swallows fly out to get the dew when it falls ---sometimes it soaks through the blankets. I sleep outside when I can, if the sand doesn't get into my eyes. The moon's full. Once when I was in the nearby town the Anti-Aircraft put on a dazzling show as it fought off the raiders. Strings of red or pale blue balls of light laced the night-air, and the thunderous barrage set off light and noise and aerial explosions in a way to take off all thoughts of the aimed and purported death and destruction. It was about 9.30 at night, and I was swimming. I clung to the rock cliff, for the shrapnel whizzes down, and was amazed by it.

". . . . . Long ago I accepted this as my life. I begin to forget what people look like out of uniform, and I wonder at the days before the war."

We should like to take this opportunity to advise the parents and relatives of our men abroad that communications of all kind ---cable, airmail or regular mail --- are very slow. Everything is held up by the censorship on this side as well as abroad.

The men are on active duty, and have been assigned to many sections of the Middle East. Distances are very great from our Headquarters to the sectors in which the men are operating. Everything must go through our Headquarters as men are moved from one place to another and our Headquarters has the record of where each man is.

When funds are cabled over by us to Cairo, it may very easily take three weeks to a month before the man will receive them, as they are distributed by a Field Cashier and he must be contacted regarding such funds.

All this seems rather discouraging, but it is not due to any lack of efficiency on either our part or the members of our Cairo Headquarters' Staff. It is due entirely to the fact that we are at war. This war of 1942 cannot, in any way, be compared to the war of 1917. Then most of our men were in France---one week away. The Middle East presents an entirely different kind of problem. We are thousands of miles from the theatre in which are men are working and they, in turn, are hundreds of miles from out Headquarters.

We hope that the foregoing will ease the minds of the parents and relatives of the members of the AFS. We want them to know that, at all times, we are at their service, and will always endeavor to get them information and send messages and funds to the boys. All we ask is their kind indulgence and patience about conditions over which we have no control. We are sure this will come with a full understanding of the difficulties of war.

So that you may all get a picture of the difficulty in getting definite news of the men on an active front, we give you a chronological account of how it came to our office during the recent action at Bir Hacheim. Perhaps, then, you can understand how difficult it is for us to give you any very accurate information. A.F.S. is subject to censorship just as strict as that of the Armed Forces, and this fact is not changed by our being a Voluntary Organization. THIS IS WAR. You can not expect any more news than you would have, were the men in the American Army.

First Report of casualties on the Libyan front June 12th.

A phone call to our office from the Associated Press saying the following men were missing (only this, no more information whatsoever)

LeClair Smith, Alan Stuyvesant, Alexander McElwain, and Arthur Stratton.

Second Report. June 17. Associated Press.

3 missing

believed to be prisoners:	Stuyvesant, McElwain, Stanley, Kulak
wounded:	Stratton
killed:	Tichenor
safe:	Semple

Third Report

June 20th.

cables from GHQ Cairo. Only sent after Lt. Ogden had been able to confirm earlier rumours.

Found killed by Stratton:	Tichenor
Probably prisoners:	Stuyvesant, McElwain, Kulak
Wounded ( in leg and arm, but in good spirits;)	Stratton
Safe (reported Missing)	Semple

Obviously the above interim of eight days between the press report and ours from GHQ in Cairo was necessary before it was possible for us to give out accurate information to friends and relatives. The elapse of time is unavoidable to allow confirmation from the other side.

This is going to continue in ever increasing volume; and the best we can do is to be calm, generous, and secure within ourselves in the knowledge that every man is there because he feels he is doing his share in bringing American faith and democracy to bear on this great issue.

June 29, just received from Cairo GHQ.

It is verified that Alan Stuyvesant was taken prisoner June 2.
Two ambulances captured and 6 blown up or destroyed.

Roswell Sanders SSUIV of Newburyport, Mass is responsible for the heading of this page. He was seriously wounded at Marre, near Verdun, in Sept. 1916. He was awarded the Médaille Militaire and the Croix de Guerre with a Palm. After a long convalescence, during which time the U.S. Army had taken over the AFS, Roswell entered the Canadian Aviation and was in France when the Armistice was signed. In 1940 Ros worked in the AFS HQ until the tragic fall of France.

The 25th. anniversary of the American flag's initial appearance on the Western Front in World War I was commemorated at Cornell's War Memorial Service, May 24, 1942, as some 500 persons gathered to pay tribute to the University men who died in that conflict. The Cornell group was already in France serving as volunteers in the American Field Service when the United States declared war. They immediately transferred to a combat unit, ammunition transport, and were the first to flaunt the Stars and Stripes at the foe across No Man's Land.

One of the men at present in Syria writes that "The ambulance that was given in memory of the A.F.S. boys who died in the last war is also here."

June 17, 1942 marked an anniversary, the 25th. milestone of SSU XXVIII.

"The 'Chef' chose this day to pay his respects to the men of '42, his boys of '17, and reaffirm his confidence in them to meet their problems 'in the days that lie ahead', in whatever Service they labor, with courage and loyalty, to Country and Cause."

The former representative Mr. Edward Purves of Philadelphia has joined the Armed Forces. He is Captain in the Combat Ground Aviation Intelligence. Mr. Purves served in the 1st. World War in the American Field Service SSU4.

Come 7 come 11! .... Back comes ill-fated Unit XI to the New York office, having been torpedoed in the north Atlantic, suffering one and all from ---of all things ----SUNBURN . . . . . . . . .

According to the latest State Department Report on the financial status of relief organizations A.F.S.s' operating and administration expenses are a mere 5.5% of money collected in funds . . . . . . . . .

Major Stuart Benson has returned from a speaking tour through the South and West and eagerly anticipates getting back to the Middle East Headquarters . . . . . . . . .

The artist responsible for our cartoons and cover is Mr. Clifford O. Saber of New York City who is leaving shortly for the Middle East to drive an ambulance. Watch "Life" for possible appearance of some of his work later on . . . . . . . . .

A cable from Ralph Walling, Reuter Correspondent in the Middle East which appeared in the N. Y. ..Times, June 8, 1942. "The American Field Service ambulance is doing a sterling job, running a hazardous gauntlet in the battle area between Bir Hacheim and Tobruk. At least twenty of their ambulances are still staying at Bir Hacheim helping the wounded" . . . . . . . . .

Coincidence . . . . . . or is it Field Service liaison? . . . . . . . . .

A letter from an ambulancier in the Middle East tells of dining in a Jerusalem hotel at the next table to King George of Greece . . . . . . . . .almost at the moment of our going to press the Director General Mr. Galatti dined in New York WITH His Majesty . . . . . . . . .

More for the fame department . . . . . . . . . Bertram Hutchinson who was a A.F.S. ambulancier during the Battle of France 1940 and received the Croix de Guerre, and has been in the RCAF for the last year and a half, has been promoted to a captain . . . . . . . . .

Mr. Enos Curtin has temporarily deserted the A.F.S. executive committee to assist the armed forces as a Captain in the morale division under General Osborn . . . . . . . . .

Last minute EXTRA . . . . . . . . .Lieutenant Alfred Ogden A.F.S. paymaster and quartermaster at Cairo headquarters has just arrived in New York, after a trans-Africa trans-Atlantic flight. He will be here for a short time just enough to complete his mission . . . . . . . . .when he will go back to his post in the Middle East . . . . . . . . .

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.

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 America in etchings and photographs, published by Hastings House for $5.00. On all copies ordered thru us we receive the proceeds.

Bulletin No. 6

Index