Vol. I - No. 8-----Mar. 11, 1944-----Editor: Roz Richards
Subscription Price-----A Letter A Drizzle



While The Drizzler turns on the drizzlets from all over the world, bringing you news 'n' views from your buddies stationed at their posts throughout the universe. So lis'en closely and we'll give you nuggets of news from such distant lands as Italy, North Africa, Scotland, England, Wales, Iceland, the Hawaiian Islands, New Caledonia, and other far-away countries.


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 The Drizzler's going to kick off clear across the goal line with a literary gem from that frisky, frivolous favorite of fickle females, Lieut. Whitey Hill. Incidentally, Whitey was in Monticello recently on a furlough from Fort Benning and he was looking even better than the proverbial million dollars. Unless a new order has come through in the meantime, the former Monticello high school athletic director and character builder has been assigned to Fort Benning as an instructor for the coming year. Apparently the war department was reluctant to send Whitey overseas for fear that news of his transfer abroad would be accompanied by a frightful collapse of feminine morale all along the home front. That's just The Drizzler's guess, but it sounds logical, doesn't it? I thought you'd all agree. Well, Whitey's ready to step to The Drizzle microphone so let's all lis'en to what he has to say:

"Dear Drizzle: Seems I skipped getting in my nickel's worth last month, but I was so doggone busy that I just couldn't find the time. (Who'd'ya think you're kidding, Whitey?) I wonder how much wool I'm pulling over whose eyes? Unless I get worked too hard, I promise to make an effort to pay the subscription price each month. (That's the spirit, ol' boy. All the rest of you lads, please note.)

"I thought Carl ("I-can-figure") Dick would start practicing on a bicycle before long. It still irritates him when he thinks of that trip we took into Door county and down the shore of Lake Michigan and all he did was eat my dust and all I did was wait for him and even tow him at times. Those were little things that weren't told before because he threatened me with violence, but now that he's way over there in Wales, I'm safe.

"Wasn't there a lawyer from New Glarus living in Monticello just a few years back? Let's see, Voegeli by name, I believe. Whatever happened to him? Seems I never see any of his moronic expressions lighting up the Drizzle? (Be patient, Whitey, be patient. At long last, P. Emil has stirred from his literary slumber as you will note from his letter later on in the Drizzle.)

"So Booby still has the professors fooled at Yale. Boy, he really must turn it on or, of course, if his instructors are women, the answer is obvious. At least we're both in the ASTP except that I'm practically in the woods on the edge of camp. The officers have little hutments to call home and a fifty-yard walk to get a shower and shave. I thought the life of an officer was one of luxury-sad day when the truth dawned on me. The food, however, is excellent.

"I wonder how much work Capt. ("I-wear-short-pants") Youngreen really does? Seems to me he is always on the move from one place to another-no doubt being chased for throwing verbal insults thought up by some poor medico who has to endure his commands. My one regret is that all those gals-blondes, brunettes, etc.-that I'm supposed to be entrenched behind are imaginary and not real. Now, two good South Sea Islanders like Youngreen and Tony Wyss could surely come to my rescue and solve my problem of getting from the imaginary to the real. Man, if that isn't down Tony's alley!

(Whitey's last paragraph is in answer to "Doc" Youngreen's nimble poke at him in the Feb. issue of The Drizzle, to wit: "I have been in constant conference with my staff working out our strategy and plan of attack. My immediate objective is a certain Hill which we have designated as Whitey, or the Lover of the Louisiana Lagoons. My intelligence reports that the objective is well-entrenched behind a formidable array of blondes, brunettes, and what have you.") Whitey speaks again:

"A word of warning to you men returning to Monticello on furlough: don't let these card sharks talk you into a friendly little party and card game because if you do, you'll be putting the touch on the folks for train fare back to camp. I couldn't even make four jacks stand up playing against Jim Dooley, Doc Horne, and Mac Knobel. No wonder they give you the royal welcome! (If you're angling for some sympathy, Whitey, you're not going to get very much of it from The Drizzler because you should'uv known better. Haven't you heard by this time that Jim and Doc and Mac form one of the cleverest and cagiest card combination this old town has seen in a long time. They're really a trio of smoothies. This is only my guess, of course, but I imagine Doc lulled you off-guard with a flow of soothing talk about " the good old days" and right at those very moments, Jim and Mac were most likely pulling aces out of their shirt sleeves and trouser cuffs and probably even out of their hair with a sleight-of-hand magic that would'uv made old Houdini himself furious with envy.)

"In spite of the fleecing, I really enjoyed being back in the old town as the treatment is A-1 plus. Time's up. Whitey."


Lieut. Leon H. Babler, navigator on a Flying Fortress and recently awarded the air medal and oak leaf cluster for action in flights over enemy territory, now has nearly 25 missions to his credit. That Leon has participated in some thrill-jammed sky battles is clearly indicated by the fact that in a recent large-scale bombing raid over Germany, three members of his crew were badly wounded. Their Flying Fortress received some damaging blows from enemy fire in this particular air battle, and on their way back to England, they decided to land at a Royal Air Force Field rather than try to make their home base. Leon's older brother, Art, is still enrolled in the radio school at the United States Coast Guard Station in Atlantic City, N. J., while his younger brother, Carl, is in ASTP training in the U.W. at Madison. For the information of "old-timers" who receive the Drizzle, I might add the three Babler boys are sons of Mrs. Florence and the late H. O. (Terry) Babler. . . Corp. Clarence Blumer, who is stationed on the Island of Kauai, also called the Garden Island and which is situated in the Hawaiian Islands, rounds out three years of service in the armed forces this month, a distinction which is shared by Sgt. Melvin Marty and Emil Weigert, both now in England. For excitement on the Garden Island, Corp. Blumer says he goes to shows and does a lot of swimming. "This place isn't as nice as it is painted," he writes, "And as for women, I'll take those back in the good old U.S.A." . . An interesting program marking the commissioning of the U. S. S. Richard P. Leary, to which he has been assigned, has been received by the Drizzler from "Nate" Burgy, Monroe, formerly of the Green County highway police patrol. . . Up in Alaska, where Sgt. Clarence (Bab) Babler is stationed, malted milks cost 40 cents and ice cream $1.25 a quart. Say, Bab, isn't it about time we're having a letter from you? I'm sure that whatever you have to say will be devoured with much interest, not only by myself and other Drizzle readers, but also by your famous old side-kick, that gay and garrulous gentleman of Chicago and Villa Park-"Slim" Freitag, who reads The Drizzle regularly. I'm right, "ain't" I, Slim? . . Lieut. "Howie" Steinmann of the United States Marines completed his 30-day course in mess management at Fort George Mead on Feb. 29. The Fort is 12 miles south of Baltimore. That same day Howie and his wife left by auto via the southern route-a distance of about 3,000 miles-for Camp Pendleton, Calif., which is half way between San Diego and Los Angeles where the lieutenant was to report for duty yesterday. If time permitted, Howie and Gladys hoped to branch into Mexico for a day or two enroute to Camp Pendleton which is situated at Oceanside, Calif. . . Pvt. Morgan Phillips, who for several months was stationed at Camp Hood (Texas) with the 603rd Tank Destroyer Battalion, has been transferred to Camp Maxey which is up in the northeast corner of Texas, only a few miles from the Oklahoma line. Says Morgan: "This is not nearly as nice a camp as Hood. They burn coal here and I haven't smelled coal smoke for seven months. It's really bad. But the water here is a lot better. Thought I'd let you know my new address so The Drizzle wouldn't have to look me up." . . From Somewhere in the Pacific comes word from Pfc. Hilmer Gordon that he has just received his first Drizzle. "I think it is a great paper. Keep it coming." Continuing, Hilmer says, "Since I left Monticello, many strange things have happened and I have seen many unbelievable sight. I will soon have in two years of service overseas, but it doesn't seem that long. When a person is kept busy, time goes very fast. These islands are not what they're cracked up to be. I haven't seen any of the beautiful scenery the books tell about. Nothing like good old Wisconsin."


From Lieut. (jg) Wally Barlow, who was still instructing air cadets at the naval air base at Hutchinson (Kans.) at the time he wrote his letter: "Dear Roz: I guess I owe you for a couple of issues of The Drizzle so rather than risk having my subscription cancelled, I'll write to you. As usual my letter will be pretty dull because of the continual similarity in my duties here, nothing exciting-no bombing raids or thrilling missions to tell you about. Just the same thing every day except some days our fledgling pilots come closer to getting you than others. I did get a bit of a thrill today when a cadet I was checking put us into the start of a spin at 600 feet and later fell out of a slip at about 30 feet and came in half on a wing before we could straighten out again. We have been getting all kinds of scuttlebutt, Navy rumors, about the base here at Hutchinson being closed in favor of officers and men in bombers transitional training. We haven't had definite confirmation of this yet but it does seem quite authentic. If that does go through, I don't know where I'll go from here-probably to the fleet because I've had over a year's shore duty now, but they may keep us in primary training for a while yet. Haven't heard much about the Wisconsin basketball team this year. I hope the fellows have been doing a good job. Sure wish we could get home to see a game. I guess that's it for now. My regards to all the fellows. Wallie Barlow." (Say, Wallie, have you any inside information on "Bo" Woelffer's current heart ailment? No, it isn't a physiological condition. It's that disease they call love. I understand she's a California cutie. And what's the latest you have on King Kissling of Yale? "Boob" may be leaving there some of these days and can't you just imagine the heavy pall of grief that'll hang like a thick fog over Yale's sorority row when he does?) . . Well, now just look what we have here-if it isn't a letter from the ol' King himself. But notice, Wallie, and the rest of you fellows how shrewdly "Boob" evades all mention of his romantic activities. He has some other interesting things to tell about so let's lis'en: "Dear Roz: Thanks a lot for the recommendation. I passed the physical and mental Tuesday, but Wednesday an order came out stopping all enlistments in the air corps for the fellows in the service. It seems all the A.S.T.P. students in the U.S. were trying to get in, and since about 90% of them were passing, they closed it up. Darnit! I guess its back to the infantry for me. The fellows that were shipped out of here last December are in Italy already. Boy, it didn't take them guys long. Our college team won the basketball championship and then we played the air corps Lieutenants for the Red Cross fund. They beat us 59 to 56. Kessler, the old Purdue star, made 37 points for them. Boy, was he stinky! Everyone on our team took turns guarding him, but no one could stop him. It'll probably be quite a while before I get home again, Roz, so be sure and keep that Drizzle coming. Be good. Boob." . . While we're on the subject of basketball, let's switch The Drizzle microphone over to Dauntless Dick Schoonover and have him tell us about the cage court capers of Carl (Babs) Babler, who used to team up with Boob at the guard positions for the M.H.S. before moving to the capital city to become a star performer at Madison West. O.K., Dick, we're all ready: "Dear Roz: As usual, the last Drizzle was enjoyable to the last word. Even my room-mates, who don't know any of the fellows mentioned, get a big kick out of reading it. I noticed that Boobie (Chubby) Kissling played in the final championship game at Yale. Thought you might be interested in hearing about his old teammate, Carl "Speedy" Babler. It seems that when Babs company organized its BB team, Carl was told he couldn't make the grade-too short. This sort of roiled Carl so he organized a team of his own, a team No. 2, just for the fun of it. Well, to make a long story short Team No. 2 beat every outfit in the league, including the elite Team No. 1 twice and then ended up playing exhibition games against "All-Star" challengers, among them a highly touted officers team-which all the G.I.'s enjoyed immensely. All this time Carl was averaging over 10 points a game besides being the big gun on defense! In the championship game, which offered some swell gold medals to the winners, Carl's quintet again came out on top. In fact, they ran all over the best opposition the other sections could offer-which all goes to prove you can't judge a good old Green County athlete by his height! I don't doubt but that Boob proved that point out on the Yale front, too. Incidentally, the team I played on didn't roll up a record like that, but we had a helluva lot of fun, anyway. Right now, I'm hopefully waiting for traveling orders to the east coast, but don't let that hold up my Drizzle. You can always use the Green County jail as my forwarding address! Thanks a lot and good luck. Pfc. Dick Schoonover." (Dick leaves shortly for Fort Monmouth, N. J., which is the main signal corps camp in the United States. He expects to be stationed there for four months.)


Lieut. Ray (Burn-'Em-Up) Burns, for the past several months in training with the 336th Bomb Group at Lake Charles, La., expects to be sent overseas any day now. Ray, who is a bombardier-navigator-"bombagator" for short-on a Flying Fortress, was at Pearl Harbor when the Sneakanese unloaded their treachery on Dec. 7, 1941. . . Some time ago Barney Karlen sent a copy of The Drizzle to Pvt. Art Zweifel, New Glarus boy (Nick's youngest son), who is with the United States Marines in New Caledonia. In acknowledgement, Art has this to say: "Received the Drizzle and found it to be one of the most interesting and amusing bits of news I have ever seen. If it's possible, I'd appreciate the next copy of it." We'll see that you receive The Drizzle regularly from now on, Art. Most of you fellows undoubtedly remember this enterprising young New Glarus gentleman. For two years he was catcher for Barney's Bearcats, the local baseball team which terrorized southern Wisconsin baseball circles with its spectacular performances. Incidentally, Art recently met up in New Caledonia with Dr. Palmer Kundert, a former New Glarus boy, who before joining the armed services was practicing medicine in Florida where he had been located for several years. . . Lieut. John Steinmann and wife and twins, John and Jorene, are still residing at 163 Yale Drive, Cameron Valley, Alexandria, Va. John drives 12 miles each morning with four other officers to Fort Belvoir, Va., where he is supervisor of one of the drafting rooms in the engineering school. . . From England comes a letter from Pvt. Emil Weigert, Co. D, 1st Bn., 8th Inf.: "Hello Roz: Here is my first letter from across the waves to you. The country is nice around here and in peace time, a fellow would probably have a good time, but everything is rationed. We get plenty to eat, but the beer is no good-no kick to it at all. I haven't had a smell of whiskey since I got here. I get plenty to smoke, but no matches to light them with. Otherwise I get plenty of everything I need. We don't get much candy, but that doesn't bother me. Well, I hope we soon get a chance to finish up this war over here for I am sure getting dry of a good "shot" of Kessler's. I hope by next Christmas I am having one in Monticello. I see by the Drizzle that I am not alone over here. Hope I meet up with some of the boys. Here is good luck to all of you. As ever, Emil." (Here's hoping that you and all the rest of the boys will be back home by next Christmas, Emil.) . . Sgt. Erv Spring, the former power-politician and political prognosticator of the public relations department of Bill Blum's Merchandise Mart, drops us a few lines from the Aleutians where he and that other worthy representative of Monticello, Sgt. Fritz Haldiman, form a deadly combination against any would-be Jap invaders. Says the Honorable Erv, who owes much of his success to the masterful tutelage he received from that genial gentleman of the Merchandise Mart, Henry Jeremiah Elmer: "I never did get the Jan. issue of the Drizzle and I sure missed it. At the present rate of expansion, you'll be needing a larger staff. The Drizzle's one of the very few newspapers that isn't plastered with advertisements, except, that is, for Whitey Hill's want-ads for female telephone numbers and social addresses. I notice quite a few of the boys have been sent overseas. But none of them up this way. I don't know when we'll be getting back home once again, but certainly hope it isn't too far off. Well, Roz, I hope this finds you and your family all O.K. Give my regards to the old gang. As ever, Erv." . . Sgt. John J. Theiler is still with the 35th Finance Disbursing Section in North Africa. John belongs to that illustrious M. H. S. era just before the 20's which produced such intellectual geniuses as the Edwards twins-Ray and Roy-successful accountants and auditors of Philadelphia; "Al" Blum, with the Securities & Exchange Commission also in the Quaker City; Adam Albert Schuler, head of the Monticello insurance monopoly, and James Fennimore Dooley, the local oil baron and rancher. John is situated in one of North Africa's largest cities distinguished mostly by its "dirtiness" and narrow streets and sidewalks which are usually crowded with both vehicles and pedestrians. He says he had often read of the peculiar smell in these foreign places and he knows what it's like now because it is especially noticeable in this particular city.


From Sgt. Wilbert A. Marty, tail gunner on a Flying Fortress based in England: "Dear Roz: Received The Drizzle today. Have been looking forward to it. Sure glad it contained Leon Babler's address. I've heard of his outfit and it shouldn't be too hard to locate him. (I understand, Wilbert, that you and Leon are stationed in the same general area. Am I right?)

"Evidently Leon can write more freely than I can. Some groups are not as strict as ours. No. of missions is out and we can't mention where we go on raids-even if large cities. It is just a group policy. I guess I can say Leon has a few more raids in than I have.

"Leon is right. There are plenty of thrills over here. He isn't beating his gums when he says these English girls are becoming "Yankeeized." (And what's this I hear about the ol' tail gunner, Wilbert? But The Drizzler'll go into that later.) I don't envy Leon his job at all. A navigator is about the busiest man on the ship.

"I don't think the fellows should jump too hard on Whitey (The O. C. S. Kid) Hill, idol of the females and mentor of so-called athletes, about him being a teacher. Now and then he threw a tough chemistry formula or physics problem merely as a bluff. He was strictly a character builder. At least so it said in fine print on a piece of paper pinned on his coat one day. It was after a certain basketball game, but that's beside the point.

"So Carl Dick is over here. Sure would like to see him. Glad to hear "Mel" (Wilbert's brother) made sergeant's rating. That was news to me as my letters from home don't seem to come through so fast.

"Plenty has happened over here to talk about after it is all over. There'll probably be a lot more. All for now as it is getting late. As ever, Sgt. Marty."


From Somewhere in Italy come these welcome lines from Capt. Norman Steussy, Milwaukee, who is well-known here because of his frequent visits to the home of his grandfather, Otto H. Babler, the famous local sports dopester and internationally known dog fancier: "Many thanks for The Drizzle. I appreciate the news of the whereabouts of my many friends and relatives. It doesn't look as though many of the local lads are in Italy, but they aren't missing much I can tell you that. I don't know how "Doc" Youngreen deserves such a break as to be in the Hawaiian Islands. John Streiff, the Monticello grocery baron, doesn't seem to know when he's well off. I'd like to be in the state of Texas or any other state after what we've been through in the last year. Thanks again for the Drizzle. Send some more if it's possible. Sincerely, Norman Steussy." (We've added your name to our "circulation list," Norman, so you'll be getting the Drizzle regularly from now on.) . . Lieut. Russ Howard writes from Iceland: "Have received two copies of the Drizzle and have enjoyed reading them a lot. In fact, just finished reading them for the fifth time. I have traveled quite a lot and now I find myself on "The Rock." We have long nights here and I do enjoy reading so keep The Drizzle coming, please. Would it be possible for you to send me Erv Spring's address" (Here it is, Russ: Sgt. Erwin Spring, 36237069, Co. B, 198th Inf., APO 726, Seattle, Wash.) The capital of Iceland, Reykjavik, is a pretty nice city of about 40,000 people. The girls here are very pretty and nearly all blondes. They are rapidly learning English, but believe me, Roz, it's funny to hear them say, "What's cookin'?" (I'll bet most of 'em can say, "Bob" Blumer," can't they, Russ? You'll probably recall that this rollicking Romeo from Monticello was in Iceland for many months before moving on to Northern Ireland.) I guess I'll close this letter now. Good luck. Sincerely, Russ." . . From Lt. "Bo" Woelffer, who is both the pride and the pet of the nurses' staff at Ashburn General Hospital, McKinney, Texas: "Tonight I am operating as O. D. while the mercury is dropping faster than the law of gravity permits. The last time I was O. D., I spent a little time admitting a corpse to the morgue. Right now there are three on the seriously ill list so there's a possibility of doing some business. What a spot for Frederick Voegeli. I just mention this to somewhat neutralize that bit of gravey-train stuff that Whitey Hill and Doc Youngreen think goes with the detail of drilling (close order, of course) the army nurses here. (Just a minute there, Bo. In the last Drizzle, I asked you for some inside information on that lovely little thing that's been monopolizing your dreams so much lately. And what do you do? Right off the bat, you switch me onto the morgue! What kind of a run-around are you giving me?) This week a demonstration team from Ft. Sam Houston showed our G. I. cooks and dieticians how to prepare dehydrated foods. As assistant mess officer I sampled some of the scrambled eggs, vegetables, and even a cake and found them to be delicious. When I go overseas, I hope that the cooks will know how to prepare these groceries because I have heard some poor reports about powdered eggs and milk-a bit stinky. This concludes Asburn's bit in the war effort. Sincerely, Bo." . . Hold onto your chairs, ladies and gentlemen, because here, after all these months, is a letter from the "long-lost" lieutenant, now a captain-P. Emil Voegeli. Writing from the British Isles, Paul says: "I have just finished reading the January Drizzle and decided to write tonight instead of putting it off "later in the week"-which in the past just never seemed to come. Letters and The Messenger keep us informed on some things but you have been treating us to news of a kind that we otherwise just don't get. Those items are always most welcome. I notice by the Drizzle that at least five other fellows from home are in the United Kingdom. I was especially interested in Carl Dick's address as back in August I happened to be in the city near which he is stationed, and had a day of "in between time" to spend there as I wished. Carl mentioned fish, chips, and tea. That is a combination I usually stay away from. I had some there, too. The chips were O.K., the tea was as good as tea usually is, but the fish was bad-pre-war, I believe. Sincerely, Paul." (Now that you've broken your silence, P. E., let's hear from you more often. And how about a ringing, bristling rebuttal to the many humorous quips that'uv been tossed your way. For instance, Doc Youngreen, that wily warrior of the Southwest Pacific, calls you "the legal larcenist" or "Who's-got-the-gavel?" Voegeli and even suggests that you may be wearing Scotch kilts. We're awaitin' for a vigorous counter-attack.) . . From Sgt. Melvin Marty, Co. A, 8th Inf., Somewhere in England: "Received the Jan. Drizzle and it's tops. The Drizzle is a great morale booster-even better over here than in the states. Well, Roz, I am somewhere in England. I might be able to get in contact with Wilbert. (Surely hope you do, Mel.) The other day Gen. Eisenhower was here to look us over. I didn't get to see him because I was in charge of quarters. The fellows say he is sure one swell fellow. Notice Sgt. Joe Legler is in England. Have you got his address? (Here it is, Mel: 91st Sta. Comp. Sq. (S. T.) Det. D. APO 635). This leaves me okay and keep The Drizzle coming by all means. So long, Sgt. Mel Marty." . . From Staff Sgt. "Cec" Wirth, USM, former oratorical oriole of M. H. S. and also known as the boy "with-a-way-with-the-women," writing from "In the Field, Somewhere in the Southwest Pacific": "Dear Roz: If there are many people home on furlough whenever I get there, the way Monticello is represented by commissions, most of my excess energy will be exhausted from saluting half the male population. But you can let "Romeo" Hill know that if his nose still wiggles when he thinks something is funny, he had better control it when I give him a G.I. Leatherneck arm-bend. From the way it sounds, the "Kiss King" has himself a firm hold on a good racket. Do you suppose he would lend a poor, beat-up Marine one of those extra femmes he has chasing him around the Yale campus? (Uh-uh, Cec, the King, like all other monarchs, is funny that way.) Have to shove off. Duty calls. Just keep that Drizzle coming. It's a booster, the like of which has yet to be seen. Sincerely, Cec." . . From Ensign Ed Klassy, aboard the U.S.S. Williamson in the Pacific: "Have seen many islands, historic spots, natives, etc.-some not very interesting. Talked to a few of these natives and also shook hands with a chief who has signed some sort of treaty with the U. S. and carries a watch presented by the President. These natives aren't too dumb as they sure have learned what the American dollar is for--$5 to $10 for a string of shells or carving. Feeling fine. Best regards to all the fellows." . . Cpl. P. A. Roth, Camp Edwards, Mass., writes: "In Boston over week-end. Taking in wealth of historic sights. Plenty of them here. Waiting for the Drizzle. More later." . . From Lt. "Ott" Blum, M. C., USNR, in New Guinea: "Just read Jan. Drizzle. One of best yet. Especially interesting were items about Slim Freitag, Al Lauridsen, the Blumer Brothers. Glad Les gets some duty in the States now. Hope the Drizzle continues to come until the krauts and monkeys are all washed up. Ott."


To these Drizzle donors: Mr. and Mrs. H. F. Stoll, Art Escher, Karl Holsinger, Al Moritz, P. J. Aultman, Jacob Burgy, Mrs. John G. Blum, Mrs. Alois Wyss, Al Knobel, W. J. Marty, Helen Roethlisberger, Joe Voegeli, Adam Schuler, James Lobbs, W. A. Loveland, Pat Schoonover, Fran Kubly, Fred Stauffer, John Dick, and Dr. H. J. Horne.


Carl J. Dick, the new Prince of Wales, is a sergeant now. . . Ted Butler (Shirley Curtis' husband) leaves soon for overseas. Bud Wirth shipped out Tuesday. . . P. F. Blumer's back at Chanute Field after a furlough here. Wilbert Marty's now a Staff Sgt. S'long!

The Monticello Drizzle, created for the Monticello Area Historical Society
by Roger and Madeleine Dooley.
A softcover copy can be purchased by contacting
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