Vol. I - No. 10-----May 20, 1944-----Editor: Roz Richards
Subscription Price:-----A Letter A Drizzle



That comments appearing in parenthesis throughout The Drizzle are the personal observations of The Drizzler. However, many of the nicknames clothed in parenthesis in a number of the letters reproduced in The Drizzle are the brain children of the individual letter writers.


Because here, if you please, is another issue of The Drizzle brimming with all sorts of the newest news 'n' views about your buddies in the service. So now if all of you'll come over here and gather around The Drizzler in a cozy little circle, I'll step to the microphone and tell you about many of the latest activities of your old pals who are now scattered in many different parts of the world-from far-away New Britain way out there in the Southwest Pacific clear to the British Isles and Italy. That's the stuff! Now that you're all comfortably settled, I'll-oh, oh, I was afraid of that-come on there, Whitey Hill, get that dreamy look out of your eyes and stop longing for that gorgeous, captivatin' blonde you met on your last leave from Camp Hood. And you, too, King Kissling, please quit nudging Carl Babler in the ribs and gushing to him about that beautiful brunette you happened to meet in between trains in Chicago on your way back to dear old Camp Pickett. There, now. That's better. Okay, then, if you're all set, let's get amovin':


Sgt. Clarence (Bab) Babler, who was lionized by the ladies when he was one of the gayer swains of the hamlet before he left Monticello some 24 years ago, alighted in the old home town from Alaska the other day and it was mighty nice to see the sergeant whose stellar play in the back court as a guard on local high school basketball teams stamped him as one of the most effective defensive players the M. H. S. ever had back in that illustrious athletic era. It will be two years in August that "Bab" has been in the service and he has spent 17 months in Alaska as a member of a medical unit. He made the trip back to the states in a large, twin-motored passenger-cargo plane which traveled the nearly 1700 miles from Anchorage to Seattle in less than 9 hours. Besides himself, there were 17 other passengers in the plane and the rest of the space was occupied by cargo.

"Bab" is feeling fine and looks it, too, says that while he naturally would sooner be back home, he likes Alaska which abounds in rare scenic beauties. His visit with me was short, but nevertheless was interesting and it stirred me to many fond memories. It made me think of the time that "Bab" and his famous old side-kick, "Slim" Freitag, now vice-president in charge of sales for Howard Aircraft Corporation in Chicago, "bummed" a ride to Monroe one Sunday night with Tommy (Big Tim) Elmer, now a resident of that city for many years but then one of Monticello's leading Romeos. Automobiles were not so plentiful in those days. Tommy had one, however, and his social obligations required his presence in Monroe at least every Sabbath evening. Consequently, "hooking" a ride with Tommy was just about the surest way of getting to the county capital and getting to the county capital and taking in a show was really something in those days.

Tommy had quite a reputation locally as a night owl and both "Bab" and "Slim" quizzed the big boy pretty closely to make certain they'd arrive back in Monticello at a fairly decent hour. "You don't have to worry," Tommy assured them, "I'll call for you at the Ludlow hotel at 12." The boys were still a little skeptical. "Are you sure?" they demanded. "Why, of course, I'm sure," was the reply. "I'm a man of my word. Besides, I want to get home early tonight myself."

So along with Tommy they went, these two young Valentinos-"Bab" and "Slim", the same two sheiks who after their graduation from high school later on, invaded Chicago together to study pharmacy at the University of Illinois-"Bab" to continue his studies and win his degree and "Slim" soon to take advantage of his rare talent as a trombone player which enabled him to scale such lofty musical heights that he eventually played with such nationally famous "name" bands as Art Kahn's, Jack Denny's, Frankie Master's, Roger WolfeKahn's at President Coolidge's inaugural ball in Washington, and Wayne King's. Well, "Bab" and "Slim" got to Monroe with Tommy, all right. And they went to a movie and then to Ruf's for a malted milk because Roof's Gardens was the mecca for all of the county's blue-bloods in those days. They may even have downed two malted milks for all I know because "Bab" and "Slim" were in a mighty reckless mood on this particular night, bent upon going "all-out", if necessary, to have a really rip-snortin' time.

Then, at 11:45, these two "hell-raisers" went to the Ludlow. Twelve o'clock came, but not Tommy. And they sat-and they sat-and they sat! And every time a car would appear around the corner of what is now the Montgomery Ward store, "Bab" and "Slim" would raise off their porch chairs and exclaim with joyous relief, "Well, here Tommy's finally coming-AT LAST!"

But every time they were wrong. The clock on yon court house tower struck one-two-three-four o'clock, and still no Tommy. Finally, a little over three-quarters of an hour later, he rounded the corner and pulled up to the curb in his Big Buick.

"I guess I'm a little late," yawned Tommy in that slow, familiar drawl of his.

"You guess you're a LITTLE LATE!" snorted "Bab" and "Slim" in unison and they continued to snort beautifully descriptive adjectives at Tommy practically all the way home to Monticello. Big Tommy, however, would just merely chuckle with a deep, guttural chuckle. And the more they'd snort, the more he'd chuckle.

Some times I've wondered if "Slim" and "Bab" probably weren't a little too hard on Tommy. Because, after all, hadn't Tommy assured them that he was a man of his word, that he would call for them at the Ludlow at 12. And didn't he? Why, of course, he did! At 12-minutes to 5!!


Leave it to Staff Sgt. Debbie Moritz when it comes to perfect timing of the mails between the British Isles and the old home town. On April 12th, he mailed his mother, Mrs. Albert Moritz, a gift for Mother's Day-which was Sunday, May 14-and it reached Monticello the day before! The gift was a pair of pretty hand-made silver flower vases, made in India, which Debbie purchased near his army camp. Debbie, who is affiliated with the Radio Signal Corps, is believed now to be stationed somewhere in Scotland after having been situated in South Wales for several weeks. Sgt. Carl (Jake, the Joker) Dick is a registrar for the 348th Station Hospital near Cardiff, Wales, but so far as is known, these two old neighbors on Monticello's South Main Street never got to see each other. . . Lt. Otto S. Blum, with the Medical Corps of the U.S. Navy, is ill with malaria. Apparently "Doc" became sick with the disease in New Guinea where he had been stationed for some time. Details regarding the seriousness of his illness are lacking, but it is known that plans had been made to fly "Doc" to Australia for treatment at a rest camp at Sidney or Melbourne. Here's hoping, "Doc", that you'll soon be feeling more and more like your old self again." . . Do you fellows like to fish? Well, listen to this: "Pat" Schramm, Freeport, who drives one of the mail trucks through Monticello, went fishing Sunday in the backwaters of the Mississippi near Savanna, Ill. With him were his wife and another couple. The Schramms caught 193 bullheads, ranging in weight from one-half to tree-quarters of a pound. The other couple hooked 235 of them. There were over 50 boatloads of fishermen on the lake and one of the anglers, who stayed out several hours longer than the rest, came in with a catch of nearly 400. I agree with all of you. Yes, there must be an awful lot of "bull" in so many bullheads, but that's not what I'm handing you. Really, it's the straight stuff! . . Royal Voegeli, with the V-12 set-up at Gustavus Adolphus, St. Peter, Minn., says, "There has been some scuttlebutt around that our term here may be lengthened to as much as two full years. At that rate, I never will even see an airplane. Frankly, I am rather impatient to start flying. Things have changed very little since my last letter. We were finally issued uniforms which give the campus a military touch. Please keep the Drizzle coming." . . Pvt. "Al" Deppeler, recently transferred to Camp Rucker, Ala., from the Colorado School of Mines at Golden, Colo., reports that he's now in the 66th Infantry Division, better known as the Panther Division, and he appraises it as a plenty rugged outfit. Says "Al:" "There are a couple of thousand A. S. T. P. men here and last week over a thousand air cadets came in. Some of these boys had up to 30 hours flying time to their credit. Almost all of us in the outfit now are between 19 and 22 so the officers really pour on the physical work. Have had lots of hand to hand combat classes. Looks like "Boob" and I are in the same thing."


The grandest piece of news that has hit Monticello in quite a spell is the information that Staff Sgt. Wilbert Marty, tail gunner on a Flying Fortress, is soon to leave England for home and it may all be that he'll be back in Monticello before the next issue of The Drizzle rolls "off the press." Writing under date of May 6th from England to his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Albert J. Marty, Wilbert merely said that he had "good news" for them because he and his bombing crew's radio operator, Sgt. Bayless of Texas, were leaving for home soon. The exact purpose of Wilbert's mission back to the states is not known. It may be that he has now completed the required number of bombing flights over Europe entitling him to come back home on a leave from active duty, and then again, the air command may be sending him over here to take advance courses in gunnery or to become an instructor in one of the army's gunnery schools. That the ol' tail gunner has been on a large number of missions over the continent is attested by the fact that he recently spent seven days at a rest home where fliers are sent only after they have seen lots of action in air combat with the enemy. Wilbert, as always, writes interestingly of his experiences at the rest home. So now let's turn The Drizzle's microphone over to the Staff Sergeant and let him tell us all about them in his own words. Okay, Sarge, we're ready for the low-down:

"If paradise was ever lost, I found it at this rest home. We stayed at a heavenly estate with a beautiful old mansion-the kind you often read about or see pictures of-beautiful gardens with fountains, pools, and statues.

"We ate five times a day and the food was very good. There was a glassful of orange juice at our bedside when we woke up every morning.

"There were sports of all kinds-softball, baseball, football, tennis, fishing, horseback riding, and golf. Everyone is issued a bike while he is here.

"And I got a suntan-which I didn't think was possible in England.

"I went riding and had a lot of fun. We could wear civilian clothes but we had to be in dress uniform for dinner. The rest home is something I'll never forget as long as I live.

"Incidentally, while I was at the home, I met a young pilot officer of the Canadian Air Force. Just a year older than me and his home is in Ontario. He was staying at a private home near us. One day the lady of his house invited me over for tea. Her husband is a retired army colonel and quite a card. They have a beautiful home.

"One day we hiked over to an old abbey which was built in 1205 and went through it. It was simply beautiful.

"Also met a flight surgeon, a major. He was a swell guy. Used to be a country doctor in Indiana. He played ball and went riding with us all the time.

"Yes, if paradise was ever lost, I surely found it at this rest home"


From Sgt. "Al" Baehler, writing from Somewhere in Sicily: "Dear Roz: Received a copy of The Monticello Drizzle and was both very much pleased and surprised. Even though I have been gone from Monticello for a long time, I still have a warm spot in my heart for the place where I spent so many happy days of my youth. Reading about all the fellows in the service who were just kids when I left Monticello makes me feel like an old-timer. Like "Doc" Youngreen, I was also on a boat Christmas Eve. In fact, that was my first night on the ocean. Spent 27 days on the boat-which is a long time for a fellow who is used to having both feet on the ground. After 3 weeks in a replacement camp in Italy, I was assigned to the 34th Air Depot Group here in Sicily and at present am working in the Requisition Department of Air Corps Supply. We live in a nice apartment house here. We have very good food and plenty of it. This is a very rocky island; in fact, it seems to be mostly mountains. Everything is nice and green and the countryside is really beautiful. There are lots of carts and donkeys on the streets. The milk man takes his cow, or goat, right with him when he delivers milk. Seeing Staff Sgt. Wilbert Marty's name in The Drizzle reminds me that he was out to our house in Rapid City several times while he was stationed at the Air Base there. Both my wife and I enjoyed his visits very much. Thanks again for The Drizzle." . . From Don Trickle, with the 31st Station Hospital: "Well, Roz, I am still on this island called New Caledonia, but I don't see anything new about it. It's as old-fashioned as last year's Easter parade. I didn't realize it was Easter Sunday until I went to dinner because we had an unusual chow. Good, fresh food and not that dehydrated stuff "Bo" Woelffer has been sampling in Texas. Outside of holidays, all of our meals are made up of dehydrated foods. You know, Roz, this dehydrated food is like this dehydrated mail (V-Mail.) No good. I have been awarded the Good Conduct Medal for exemplary behavior, efficiency, and fidelity for over one year while the United States has been at war. (Congratulations, Don! That's mighty fine!) Thirty-eight other boys also received the award at the same time. I read in The Drizzle of the medals "Fizz" Babler was awarded for action over enemy territory and for his many missions over Europe. Keep 'em flying, Fizz, and we fellows on the ground will finish 'em off. (Say, Don, or any of you lads, please tell me where Leon picked up that nickname. In the last Drizzle, Tail-Gunner Marty spoke of him as old Fizzletop. Let's have an explanation. All right, Leon, you give it to us yourself.) Notice where Art Zweifel of New Glarus is also on New Caledonia. Sure would like to meet him. Guess I've written enough for now. Thanks again for The Drizzle. From across the waves, Don." . . From Lt. Ed Klassy, aboard the U. S. S. Williamson in the Pacific: "We are under way much or most of the time and are really piling up the miles. It is nice to be in port, but I prefer to be at sea. (Must be, Ed, that you're getting to be a regular old sailor just like your famous uncle, Sir Cecil Frederick Jordan. I have heard rumors that Sir Cecil once sailed the Pacific ocean in a wash tub, but I guess the reports lack verification.) We live a very routine day-by-day life. When at sea, it is steam and stand watches; in port, it is stand watches, but not nearly so often as at sea. Very seldom do we see a white feminine face except a nurse or USO show girl on rare occasion. (What a spot to stick Whitey Hill or "Bo" Woelffer in just for punishment!) I've had my surprises, tho. I was sitting here in my shorts one quiet afternoon in port, writing to a pal over in England. I was telling him of the absence of women out here when what should I see but a beautiful dream stroll by my open door. It took a second look to prove it wasn't a dream and indeed a beautiful blonde. She was a member of a traveling USO show and an old friend from the skipper's home town. He just happened to meet her on the beach and brought her aboard for a good meal and also to entertain the crew a bit. By the way, tell the boys if they ever see a Destroyer numbered 244 to make themselves known and I'm sure we can get together if it's at all possible. From the stories the ships bring back from their two weeks recreation in Australia, Louis (The Lover) Wyss must really be in his glory. All is fine and dandy here. Just waiting to get home, though."


Monticello now has two representatives on New Britain, that far-away island in the Southwest Pacific. One of them is Capt. Harold (Doc) Youngreen, Co. B, 115th Med. Bn., that astute, scholarly medico, whose nimble humor at the expense of some of his comrades in khaki has contributed much hilarity to several past issues of The Drizzle. The other New Britainer from Monticello is Pfc. Don Pearson, D-Btry., 2nd Bn., 11th Marines, 1st Mar. Div. "Doc" insinuates that he's been a pretty busy man these past several weeks. (What do you think about it, fellows? Is "Doc" giving us the McCoy here or is it just a little fluffy stuff? That's one for P. Emil Voegeli of Scotland to answer. How about it, Paul? You used to room with "Doc" at the "U." Do you really think he's been busy or does he just think he's been?) Well, anyway, here's what the good doctor says: "I haven't had an opportunity to write for quite a while. I am now on New Britain. A lovely place, with plenty of jungle and mud. It really is quite beautiful here when viewed from a distance-and I would like to view it from a distance of about 9,000 miles. We are getting along okay and I am feeling fine. Got in on a little surgery today. They brought in a Jap prisoner with a bullet wound in the head. We removed the bullet and he seems to be doing all right. More later." (Just a minute there, Doc. You can't run out on me like that. You've got to promise to go on another one of those humor sprees, peppering your old pals with your witty jabs and jibes. I'm awaiting.) . . And now it's Don Pearson's turn to speak: "Just received my first Drizzle and liked it very much. Hope to get it every month. (Now that we've finally got your address, Don, you'll get every issue.) I want to say hello to you and all the fellows and wish them the very best of luck. Have hoped I might run into "Cec" Wirth or Joe Leutenegger over here, but no such luck as yet. (Hope you and Doc Youngreen can get together, Don, now that you know each other's addresses.) I've been in combat for quite some time and participated in the initial landing on Cape Gloucester. Things went fairly smooth, as you undoubtedly know from radio and newspaper reports. Hope to see some liberty before long-but? Thanks a million for The Drizzle, Roz. Looking forward to the next issue. Best wishes to all. Don."


Lt. Ray (Burn-'Em-up) Burns, who was at Pearl Harbor when the Sneakanese unloosed their treachery, is now in North Africa where he says the Arab kids have learned just enough English to enable them to beg for things from American soldiers: "Hey, Joe, gimme Bon-Bon (candy), Chew gum, Joe, Smoke, Joe." Ray's a navigator-bombardier with the 2nd Bomb Sqd. . What do you think of this, "Slim?" When your old side-kick, "Bab" Babler, dropped in from Alaska, he brought with him many interesting photographs, the most interesting of which was an autographed picture of the screen star, Olivia de Haviland, who toured Alaska entertaining our troops. Do you 'spose the ol' boy is getting that funny feeling in his heart? . . "Bob" Blumer, the bard of Northern Ireland, reports getting an airmail letter from home in just four days. "In fact," says the former Main Street humorist, "When I got it, the cloud formations were still on the envelope and I had to shake the snow off the letter in order to read it." No, fellows, this isn't "Bob" Ripley telling one of his famous "Believe-It-or-Nots." It's "Bob" Blumer, the old sheik of Nickle Plate avenue, who closes his letter like this: "How's Chite Clark and Chip Babler, the rural route skeletons? Still working themselves to the bone? Suppose since gas is rationed, they can still make pretty good time around their routes if there's a good wind and they hold up a large handkerchief." . . A few welcome lines from Frances (Voegeli) Hoskins, who says that she and her husband, Lt. Jack, have now been back in Red Bank (N. J.) for two months. They were delighted to return there because they have so many old friends living in that community. Thanks for the congratulations, Fran. . . Pvt. Morgan Phillips, Hq. Hq. Co., 603 Tank Destroyer Bn., is now in England which he describes as "a beautiful country. Am staying at a private home and like it fine so far. Have a brother here, but haven't seen him yet." Incidentally, Morgan recently sent The Drizzler a shoulder patch symbolizing his division, suggesting that you other fellows do likewise. Since then, Cpl. Paulus Roth and "Boob" Kissling have sent me theirs. Many thanks, fellows. . . Pvt. Vincent Gerry, Btry D, 376 Paracht. F. A. Bn., 82 A/B Div., was in Italy when his letter was "published" in the last Drizzle, and I erred then in stating he was Somewhere in England, but now that happens to be the very spot he's headed for. "You can tell Wilbert Marty and the rest of the boys I'll be seeing them." Well, you'll have to hurry to see the Tail Gunner, Vincent, because he'll be headin' for home most any day. "We are known as the roughest bunch overseas," the paratrooper continues. "Ours is a small division, but as you know, they can really put some pretty powerful stuff in small packages." Incidentally, Vincent wishes he could have a chat with the Two-Gun-Totin'-Sheriff, the fancy nickname which "Bob" Blumer, the old bard of North Ireland, hung onto "Pat" Schoonover in a recent Drizzle. . . Jim Knoblauch, who used to hock the basketball through the net from all angles when he was performing with the Oshkosh All-Stars and Barney Karlen's Hustling Hurricanes, is now a corporal at Fort Bliss, El Paso, Texas, where he is a physical education instructor. Helen's there with Jim. . Cpl. Paulus Roth has been assigned to Btry. D, 10th Bn., AARTC, at Camp Steward, Ga., which is only 60 miles from the Florida border. There he is working as a non-com in group headquarters personnel. "Lots of new inductees here to be trained as replacements." Says Paulus. "Camp Stewart is an anti-aircraft replacement training center. Received the Drizzle and enjoyed it lots." Glad to hear that you did, Paulus. . . It may be wedding bells some of these days for Sgt. Joe (Two-Gun) Legler, whose heart has been skipping beats lately because of a nice little English girl. Really, fellows, it's that serious! . . Pfc. Emil Weigert, the former ace agriculturist of Mt. Pleasant township, sends us some interesting reminiscences from England. Even though he was born in Hamburg, Germany, Emil regards Monticello as his old home town because he spent so many enjoyable years here. He recalls a few times when he "had a little schniggle on", and with his car, tried to straighten the road east of town on one occasion and made a heroic attempt to move the Railroad Avenue bridge on another. After the war, Emil's going to tackle the bridge with a jeep and then he hopes to make it all the way up the girder this time. "It's hard to believe," he says, "That Dick Schoonover, Boob Kissling, Wally Barlow, Leon Babler, and the rest of those young Monticello lads are comrades in arms because I can remember when I first came to Monticello, they had barely started grade school. I must be getting old, but I don't feel that way. At least I can hold my own with the youngest man in my outfit." . . W. A. (Bill) Bontly, better remembered by many Monticelloans as "Hooch," recently started the pinochle profession at Lake View Sanitarium near Madison by getting 1000 aces-something which happens very, very rarely. When Bill glimpsed those eight aces, he danced around and jumped up and down like an Indian. Thanks for sending me "Lake Views." Bill. It's a mighty swell lay-out.


From "Boob" Kissling, whose recent transfer to Camp Pickett (Va.) from New Haven, left Yale university's sorority row littered with the shattered romantic hopes of many broken-hearted co-eds: "Dear Roz: Was blessed with The Drizzle today while on K. P. again. Boy, they really are pouring it on-I mean, K. P. Every other day for me. Must be making me a cook's helper. Say, Roz, ask Wilbert in the next Drizzle if he ever meets Mahurin (one of the crack fighter pilots in the European war theatre) again to ask him about Moe. They're first cousins. Moe is here at Camp Pickett-one of the buddies at Yale. Tell Whitey (Ugh) Hill that we have a shave-tail in our company we call Whitey. He gets madder than heck when we "sir" him except when the C. O. is around. Say hello to Eddie Loeffel, Leo Felts, and all the boys. . . From Lt. "Bo" Woelffer, Ashburn General Hospital, McKinney, Texas, who continues to remain blandly and irritatingly indifferent to repeated inquiries from this corner regarding the identity of his latest heart affliction: "Have been getting a little recreation by playing tennis on the concrete court next to our quarters. Don't tell "Uriah" Hill about this, but the first time on the court, a couple of nurses walked by and asked if we would care to make it doubles. (And being very, very chivalrous, I suppose you took pity on the girls and let them play, too, even though you just simply hated to let them.) Can you imagine an Ace like Hill in a love game? (Let me ask you a question, Bo. Can you imagine Whitey in anything but a love game?) I played with an officers' basketball team which won the tournament here. It was fun, but quite a burden on the respiratory system. Saw Perry Janes the day he was discharged and was he happy! So long." . . From Sgt. "Erv" Spring, idol of the Aleutian islands and former protégé of H. Jeremiah Elmer, that winsome little bundle of personality in W. Ernie Blum's Merchandise Mart: "Hope it's not too late to congratulate you on the new member of the Drizzle staff. Looks like they'll have to have a girls football team at Wisconsin or the Richards name won't get in the line-up. (What a happy thought, Erv, old pal! Maybe they will have a girls' grid team at the U. W. by that time and there'll be a "W" winner in the family after all.) I'm wondering what has happened to the great Whitey Hill. We haven't heard from him in quite some time. I understand Gen. Marshall wants to keep him in the states because of his value to the army as an instructor. Can you give us any information on that, Roz? (This is strictly between you 'n' me, of course, Erv, but that instructor stuff is just a bunch of fluff. The real reason The Great Profile has been kept in the states is to avert a terrible collapse of feminine morale, a collapse that was almost sure to follow once the gals from coast to coast learned of his departure for overseas.) Time to close. I'm about to get in a few hours flying time. Best regards to all the boys." . . from Mrs. Olin Mitmoen, San Rafael, Calif.: "Olin is still one of the guards at the main gate at Hamilton Field which is 7 miles from here. One of the Sgts. told me the other day that Olin is one of the best men they've had at the main gate. (A pretty swell "Comp" I'd say, Olie.) It's a very responsible job. I'm working at the Base Bank. I never saw so many government checks in all my life as I saw yesterday and today. We sure enjoy the Drizzle, Roz. (Swell to know you do, Norene.) It's surely some sight to see so many big planes coming in and taking off out at the field. Will write more later."


To these Drizzle donors: Mr. and Mrs. Albert Moritz, Mr. and Mrs. Ray Blum, F. H. Steinmann, W. E. Blum, Frieda Benkert, Margaret Blum, Elizabeth Rolph, Helga Nichols, Mrs. Wilbert Christen, Florence Loveland, Dr. Clarke, Chas. Youngreen, H. C. Elmer, C. M. Stauffer, Anonymous, Jake Legler, Matt Bissig, Dr. Horne, H. J. Wirth, C. W. Lengacher, Monroe; Ruth Tomlinson, Edgerton; Mrs. Anna Elmer, Ruth Abley, and Herman Babler. AND A SALUTE-to these loyal Drizzle staff members: Ruth Karlson, Marion Hoesly, Betty Lewis, Marian Stauffer, Buddie Achtemeier, Diz Zimmerman, and Sunny and Gene Lynn.


It's nice to hear that Lt. Betty Woelffer is gradually improving from her illness at Ft. Jackson, S. C. How about dropping her a line? Betty's address is N-772929, 105th Evacuation Hospital, and she's been a patient there for nearly two months. . . Pvt. June Murphy is here on a furlough from Clovis, N. M. May go overseas soon. . Pfc. P. F. Blumer's here from Chanute Field (Ill.) on furlough 'till May 30. He's with an Army Air Force unit, performing quartermasters' assignments. . . Not since January have his folks heard from Pfc. Wendell Miller, with the Military Police in far-away Iran. The Red Cross is now investigating. Here's hoping that the long absence of word from "Windy" is due merely to a disruption in the mail service. Time to say "So long."

The Monticello Drizzle, created for the Monticello Area Historical Society
by Roger and Madeleine Dooley.
A softcover copy can be purchased by contacting
Top | Table of Contents | Previous | Next | Home