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.
DO YOU FEEL MUGGY OR STUFFY?-
If you do, here's a little suggestion that's absolutely guaranteed to blow all of the cobwebs out of your belfry and make you feel as alert as a flirt. Just climb aboard a motorcycle without a windshield and do as S/Sgt. Carl Stauffer did-pilot the mount all of the 1200 miles from Denver to Monticello via St. Louis in 33 hours through one of the winter's worst blizzards in zero weather. Variously known as the Monticello Motorcycle Marvel, the Denver Dare-Devil, and Motorcycle Mike, Carl wound up his "non-stop flight" from Denver when he pulled into the old home town the night before Christmas after an eventful trip in which he spilled twice while streaking along about 65 miles an hour, once when he struck a dead dog laying in the road and again when his motorcycle swerved out of control and crashed into a highway guard rail.
Both times old Lady Luck must have been riding along on Carl's handle bars because he picked himself up from the first spill with nothing more serious than a bruised leg, while he stepped out of his second performance of highway gymnastics with only a banged up elbow. It was a painful bruise, however, raising a bump almost the size of an egg. Making the entire trip in one long stretch without once stopping for even a cat nap, "Careening Carl" was twice warned by gasoline station attendants not to proceed ahead because highway conditions were impassable due to the blizzard. He ignored their advice, however, and plowed right on through to Monticello to completely surprise his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Fred Stauffer, who didn't have the slightest inkling of their son's plans. Carl remained here 36 hours, then struck out for Denver the morning after Christmas, the return trip straight through Iowa and Nebraska requiring 36 hours-the same length of time he was home. The mercury clung to zero during the entire trip except when he struck the Colorado border when it shot up sharply. Arriving at Lowry Field, Denver, where he is stationed, the sergeant was much surprised to find that his face was frozen, this despite the fact that he was wearing one of those warm army flying suits with head enclosure and glass "look-outs" over the eyes.
The Monticello young man has been stationed at Lowry Field for the past
four months, going there from the Boeing Aircraft Plant at Seattle, Wash.,
where he received a half year's training in flight mechanics for service
aboard the giant Boeing B-29 Super Flying Forts. At the present time, Carl,
who enlisted in the army air corps with Lt. Ray (Burn-'Em-Up) Burns
four years ago Nov. 1, goes to school three days a week, studying radar,
and then he assumes the role of an instructor the other three days of the
ALL ABOARD FOR A RAMBLE AT RANDOM-
First of all, The Drizzler wishes to express his sincere regrets over
his inability to "go to press" with a December issue, but the Christmas
rush at the post office was so heavy that it was an impossibility. But
let's not tarry any longer 'cause I'm brimming with news. So if you're
all tuned in, let's get to navigatin': Rufus (Nic) Freitag, who
is still with the naval supply depot at Bayonne, N. J., has been promoted
from lieutenant junior grade to the rank of a full-fledged lieutenant.
Back there before his graduation from M. H. S. in 1924, "Nic" was a member
of that tricky triumvirate which included Ted Burgy and Luke
Lemon, the Washington township agricultural whizzards. . . Pfc.
Armin Loeffel, who has been itching for service overseas, has finally
received his wish and is now in England, having arrived there about two
weeks ago. He is with an engineers' battalion. . . Pfc. Orville Anderson,
shot thru the right shoulder by a German machine gun bullet while guarding
a bridge near Paris Aug. 31, recently arrived at McCaw Gen. Hospital, Walla
Walla, Wash., an institution which specializes in nerve conditions. Orville,
who served with Gen. Patton's 3rd Army for 44 days before he
was wounded, will soon submit to an operation to restore life to his right
arm which is now paralyzed. Orville, a New Glarus boy, is the son-in-law
of Conrad Elmer, Jr. . . residing west of Monticello. Here's hoping
the operation is a complete success! . . Leo Felts, with the Marine
Corps at Havana, Cuba, is glad to note that Frederick Voegeli, a
member of the naval hospital corps at Bremerton, Wash., is in the same
line of work as he is. Leo wants to be remembered to Eddie Zweifel,
Carl Babler, "Boob" Kissling, "Cec" Wirth, Wilbert Marty,
and the whole gang. He also promises to be "seeing you soon." Okay, Leo,
I'm on the look-out for you. . . Pfc. Eddie Loeffel, who has been
having a hard time keeping his girlish figure down somewhere near the 200-pound
mark, has a distinction owned by few, if any, of his old Monticello high
school pals. For the second time while traveling from island to island
in the Southwest Pacific, his boat has been sunk by enemy action, but fortunately
no lives were lost on either occasion. The second sinking occurred last
month. And, ladies and gentlemen, take it from Eddie, a December "dunking"
in the icy waters of the vast Pacific ocean isn't exactly what might be
called fun. In the first sinking, Eddie lost his money and everything else
because he had them locked in his locker. That made the "Big Boy" just
a little bit peeved and he vowed, right then and there, that this was the
last time the sharks were going to have a chance to play poker with Eddie
Loeffel's lettuce leaves. Since then he's been carrying his currency
buttoned in his uniform pockets. And so the last time Eddie took "the plunge,"
his dough didn't desert him. . . Thanks to you fellows scattered all over
the world for those nice Christmas Greetings. They came from such far-away
lands as England, France, Belgium, Germany, Italy, the Solomon Islands,
and India. . . Raymond Zumkehr, stationed at Fort Lewis, Wash.,
dropped in on the Drizzler during his recent furlough home. Army life apparently
agrees with Ray because he's looking tip-top. He's a great booster for
The Drizzle and says his captain and lieutenant are among a group of his
buddies who read it regularly. . . From Somewhere in Italy, Sgt. "Al"
Baehler writes that he recently had a chance to see a "little of Pisa,"
but about the only object of interest he saw was the Leaning Tower. Parts
of the city were badly damaged by artillery and aerial bombardment. "Al"
says "Those Germans are really masters in destruction. I don't believe
we crossed a bridge in our last move that hadn't been built by our army
engineers. They are also fiendish at planting mines, but these don't hinder
our soldiers so much because the army has boys who know how to handle them."
. . . "Hoot" Wittwer, who is with the army air transport command
making fine use of the great amount of valuable experience he obtained
working for the Howard Aircraft corporation in Chicago, sends us an interesting
picture of a quaint little native church where he attends services Somewhere
in the Solomon Islands. Say, Hoot, how about another letter with a humorous
description of some of your recent experiences? That one telling how you
fed the fish every time you went aboard ship was a dandy. Those poor pisces
must be getting awfully, awfully hungry with you ashore these many weeks.
. . Capt. Norman B. Steussy, Somewhere in Italy, takes time off
from a busy schedule to drop The Drizzler these few lines: "Keep the Drizzle
coming as it sure is interesting. My fellow officers also enjoy it." Glad
to hear it, Norman. And you can (be) sure I'll keep The Drizzle rolling
right along in your direction. . . Corp. P. F. Blumer, the former
local bee and honey king, recently landed in India after almost two months
on the ocean. Say, Hoot, you should'uv been with P. F., think of how many
more fish you could have fed on a long voyage like that! You'd probably
be the fish-feeding champ of the whole world instead of just the Pacific.
For a while Paul was stationed at Calcutta, then was flown by army transport
plane to Bangalore which is considered the best camp in India. P. F. speaks
of receiving a "very most welcome Drizzle which happened to be the October
issue. Please keep sending it." You bet I will, Paul. . . Betty Jane
Woelffer is back amid the familiar surroundings of her nurses training
days, having recently accepted a position as surgical nurse in the Methodist
Hospital at Madison. Betty, who assists in the operating room, is thrilled
with her assignment. She began her duties Jan. 3rd. Prior to
accepting the capital city position, Betty had spent five months on the
nurses staff of the Mease Hospital at Dunedin, Fla. . . Lt. (jg) "Ed"
Klassy, aboard the U.S.S. Williamson Somewhere in the Pacific, had
a rare experience not so long ago. Way ahead of schedule, the Williamson
was steaming along alone several hundred miles from the nearest land enroute
to rendezvousing with another ship. The commanding officer ordered the
"Willie" to stop, issued a swimming call, and in a few minutes, most of
the crew were over the side and in the water. "It really didn't make a
bit of difference, remarks "Ed", "But just the same it felt a little funny
to realize there was nothing under me except water for over 30.000 feet."
Remind you of the ol' pond, Ed?
BACK HOME FROM THE FIGHTING FRONTS-
Veteran of 35 missions over Europe and holder of the Distinguished Flying Cross and Air Medal with three Oak Leaf Clusters, S/Sgt. Roger Foster, tail gunner on the B-24 Liberator Bomber, "Dog Face," is now in Port Washington visiting his parents, Mr. and Mrs. E. W. Foster. His father, "Fos," is well remembered here as Monticello high school principal and athletic coach for many years and his mother as the former Zoe Hancock. "Rog," who starred in the pole vault and broad jump on the University of Wisconsin track team before entering service a little over two years ago, participated in raids over Kiel, Bremen, Paris airfields, Munich, Aschersleben, and enemy military installations in support of Allied ground forces now fighting in Germany. He received his wings at Tyndall Field, Fla., and completed his combat training at Tucson, Arizona, and Pueblo, Colo. On Feb. 1st, he reports at Miami Beach, Fla., for reclassification and reassignment. At the U. W., "Rog" was an associate of such notable Monticello sensations of sorority row as Capt. "Doc" (The Answer Man) Youngreen, whose mental achievements won him numerous academic honors; Capt. P. Emil Voegeli of England, the former Duke of Langdon Street; Carl (Babs) Babler, the Pride of the Pacific, and Lt. Dauntless Dick Schoonover, who slowed down his brisk military stride long enough on his last furlough home to conform with the slower, more measured tempo of the wedding march which he performed with attractive Alice Dushold of Milwaukee in the culmination of a university romance.
Another recent arrival home from abroad is Cpl. George Wittwer,
veteran of 34 months overseas, 23 of them in Northern Territory, which
is a part of Australia, and the remaining months in New Guinea. A son of
Mr. and Mrs. Ernest Wittwer, residents of the Grand Central Hotel
here, George served with a hospital unit in the Pacific war theatre. During
his stay abroad, he lost 25 pounds, but his loss of weight in no way impaired
his health. It was four years ago Jan. 13th that George was
called into service with Madison's National Guard Company along with Capt.
"Les" Weissmiller, now a lieutenant colonel serving as executive officer
of Deshon Gen. Hosp., Butler, Pa. George leaves Jan. 28th to
spend 7 to 14 days at a rehabilitation camp at Hot Springs, Ark., to receive
a new assignment after he departs from there. His brother, Jack,
is attending officers' training school in New Orleans. The Wittwer boys
are cousins of Sgt. C. J. Dick, the new Prince of Wales, who is
with the 348th Station Hospital near Cardiff; Lt. Leon Babler,
navigator on a Flying Fortress stationed Somewhere in England, and Art
and Carl Babler, Somewhere in the Pacific.
HITTING THE HIGH SPOTS-
When "Bob" Amans wrote The Drizzler-the letter was a long time
getting here-he was on the high seas bound for Sydney, Australia, for a
little fun and relaxation. "Bob", a veteran of many Pacific Island battles,
had just been promoted to first lieutenant. He is now in his 35th
month overseas and hopes to get back home by Christmas. Here's hoping your
hopes come true, lieutenant. . . Incidentally, Bob, here's a letter from
none other than Tommy (the Tonsorialist) Brusveen, then Somewhere
in Belgium, who uses The Drizzle to send his heartiest congratulations
to you for the fine job you've been doing out there. Tommy has seen much
of France, Luxemburg, and Belgium. He says he used to be skeptical about
the stories of German atrocities in the last war, but now he has seen and
heard enough with his own eyes and ears to know that these stories revealed
only half of the sordid record of Germany's fiendish and revolting brutality.
Tommy says he is going to send The Drizzler a nice war souvenir, for which
I shall be deeply grateful. I'll be looking for it, Tommy, and many thanks
for your thoughtfulness. . . Here's some more "Bob Blumerisms" right
from the ol' Sage of the Siegfried Line: "I don't know why the Germans
keep on fighting because they haven't any more chance of winning this war
than a snowball has of freezing in hell." . "I've seen Gen. DeGaulle
and heard him speak and he's quite a guy. The French are strong for him."
. "Say, there's a drink over here called 'Calvados.' Well, some chap from
a tank outfit put some of it in the radiator of his tank, then tested it,
and it showed good for 35 below zero. It's liquid TNT, alright. The Yanks
drink the bloody stuff, too. I've had some myself, and boy!, it's wicked,
and how!" . "Well, Deppeler's O.K. Talked to him about a half hour
ago. Johnny Blumer's in England, not wounded, but probably all thru
with combat. I hope so because it's no picnic." . "Bob," who recently stepped
up from private first class to sergeant, is with the 11th Infantry
Regiment of the 5th Division which has been storming the tough
Ratzi fortresses around Metz. He tells of having previously seen some of
the beautiful French scenes pictured recently in LIFE.
ADD IRONIES OF FATE-
For weeks Lt. Howie Steinmann, stationed Somewhere with the Marines in the Hawaiian Islands, had been looking forward happily to the arrival of an heir in Monroe where his wife, the former Gladys Bayrhoffer, is staying during his service overseas. In letters to The Drizzler, he always included a few personal lines about the impending blessed event, lines which seemed to throb with the great pride and joy with which he contemplated the little tike's arrival.
In his last letter, dated Nov. 22, Howie said, in part, "Well, Roz, soon I will be a proud father. Probably I am already, for all I know." And Howie was so anxious to receive the happy news that he had instructed his dad, Jack Steinmann, not only to cable him when the little shaver did get here, but also to send the glad tidings by telephone, airmail, and any other possible means so that he would be sure to receive the message one way or another.
Finally, on Nov. 27, the long and anxiously awaited cablegram did arrive. With the nervous but happy expectancy of a prospective father, Howie opened it. His joy quickly turned to grief, however, and his eyes filled with tears as he read the message.
It told of the sudden and unexpected death of his father, who was found dead in bed in his home here on the afternoon of Nov. 25th, the victim of a heart attack.
Two days after the receipt of the cablegram, on Nov. 29th, Howie drove 65 miles in a jeep to the largest city on the island to place a telephone call more than 3,000 miles away to his home here in Monticello. At 5 p.m., the call came through and for ten minutes he talked to his mother and brother, Lt. John, who had been called here from Fort Belvoir, Va. Howie had been hoping against hope that there had been some mistake about the cablegram, but of course there wasn't. His grief was made more bearable, however, when his mother and John told him the glad news that he had become the father of a dandy little baby boy early in the morning on that very same day.
The tragic news of his father's death, dropping like a bombshell in the midst of his joyful anticipation, must have been a crushing blow to Howie. And it was a great shock to all of us here at home because Jack Steinmann was the type of progressive, civic-minded individual which any community could ill afford to lose. He was one of those rare, exhilarating characters with an air of magnetic friendliness about him and always with a cheerful or humorous quip on his lips. In his chosen profession, the field of architecture, his unusual natural talent and dynamic energy had brought him outstanding success. Jack was intensely proud of his workmanship and it was this intense pride which drove him on searching his mind for original and unique designs, designs that won substantial building contracts in surrounding communities and in such cities as Madison and Dubuque.
Many were the long and delightful hours which The Drizzler spent with Jack Steinmann, and in his passing, I have lost a close, loyal, and genuine friend. Those of us who knew him intimately know of the many times he had given financial aid to friends in distress. And this was nothing unusual for him because Jack and generosity were synonymous.
The passing weeks have already emphasized the immeasurable contributions
which Jack Steinmann made to the progress of this community in his
professional capacity, just as they clearly reflect the irreparable loss
which his untimely death has inflicted upon it.
Signing his letter as "The Voice of the South," Lt. "Bo" Woelffer,
the ol' Texas Tantalizer, complains that he didn't get the last issue of
The Drizzle which included mention of one of his more recent excursions
into the realm of romance. Did you get the second copy, lieutenant? And
, say, why don't you just call yourself "the Voice" and give us a sample
of Sinatra. Go right ahead and warble, "Bo." I'm listening-with
my ears plugged full of cotton. . . "The Drizzle really is super!" says
Frederick Voegeli, with the naval hospital corps at Bremerton, Wash.,
"It's the cream of the crop when it comes to a servicemen's paper." (Thanks,
Frederick) "I like the duty here in the hospital. The schedules are very
demanding, but that's the only way a corpsman can become proficient. The
Bremerton Naval Yard is the largest on the coast, second only to Brooklyn
in the nation. Plenty of large ships always in for repairs. Went aboard
a carrier to look at its battle scars." . . Erv Spring and Fritz
Haldiman, those two surging sergeants, who lolled amid the luxuries
(?) of the gloomy, desolate Aleutian Islands for approximately two years,
are now at Camp Callan, Calif., only 12 miles from San Diego. According
to the honorable Erv, they can see the Pacific ocean from their barracks'
HOW ABOUT ANOTHER RAMBLE AT RANDOM-
All right then, men, I'm off! What's that, Whitey Hill? You say you've
known it all the time. That'll be enough of your wisecracks for now, but
let's have a lot of your old, delightful blarney for the next issue. Whitey
is still hospitalized in England recovering from an operation to join
the ends of the main nerve of his left thigh severed by a shrapnel fragment
Oct. 13 while serving with Patton's army. It must have been quite
an operation because the incision is 12 inches long and required 37 stitches.
Say, Whitey, how many sets of instruments did the surgeon ruin carving
into that tough hide of yours? Whitey's slated for return to the states
for hospitalization at any time and he says it's anybody's guess as to
the success of his operation. Well, we're all pulling for you, you old
rascal-and mighty hard, too! . . . Before the Germaniacs launched their
big counter-push, "Boob" Kissling was Somewhere in Belgium, living
in a barn which he described as better than living on the ground. "Boob"
was greatly interested in Kenny Holcomb's story in the October Drizzle
and hints he is in the locality where Kenny parachuted to safety. Tommy
Brusveen, by the way, was of the same opinion so he and "Boob" may
have been quite close together and unaware of it. "Kiss" inquires about
Wallie Barlow and slyly insinuates that the navy pilot is by no
means the commanding officer of his own household. Okay, "Boob," here's
a little information about Wallie: He is now in the Naval Air Transport
Service with headquarters at the Naval Air Station, Patuxent River, Md.,
near Washington. NATS is the world's largest airline with daily service
to many key points of the war fronts. Its planes girdle the globe, flying
a million miles and carrying two million pounds of cargo every month. NATS
pilots are selected on the basis of temperamental fitness for the long
unadventurous flights often required of them. Steady hands and cool heads
are absolute essentials. The Atlantic Wing, to which Wallie is assigned,
has many different routes, among them from Patuxent to such distant countries
as Bermuda, Brazil, and Africa. The local pilot recently flew from Patuxent
to Miami and will undoubtedly be making one of the longer hops before long
if he hasn't already. . . Henry Zentner, who enlisted in the Merchant
Marines some months ago, has crossed the equator six times and was in the
first convoy to reach the Philippines after the invasion. "We were there
almost (censored) weeks and saw some action. There were no direct attacks
on our own ship, but a Jap suicide plane crashed into a (censored) next
to us." He also reports having had a ringside seat at the "Big Show" and
having seen a "Jap plane shot down last night." Henry is a brother of
Walt Zentner, USN, who was home on leave last summer after many months
in Australia aboard a submarine tender. . . Lt. Ray (Burn-'Em-Up) Burns
has been transferred from Corsica to France where his outfit, the Twelfth
Air Force Marauders, were given top billing as the world's best medium
bomber group. He is now "up in front" as lead bombardier, dropping "eggs"
on Ratzi war plants. Credited with nearly 45 missions, Burnsey is now attending
university French classes three nights a week, learning the language. If
you ask me, Ray, "she" must be a pretty nifty little looker to give you
all of that inspiration. . . Sgt. W. James Murphy, the Baron of
Barkeley, Texas, says it was a Wave, not a WAC that he met on the train
enroute back to camp and that she's still writing to him. States Warren:
"She recently recovered from pneumonia and says she has a surprise for
me which she made under the oxygen tent. What could that be?" Darned if
I know, W. J., but it certainly looks like love to me. What do you think,
fellows? I know James will be delighted with your opinions-or won't he?
. . Air Cadet Roger Klassy is now at Iowa Pre-Flight, transferring
there from California. The dorms are swell and the food fit for kings.
A day's schedule includes 3 hours of physical training, 6 of classes, 1
of swimming, and 1 ½ hours of evening study. . . Hilmer Gordon,
still on a Pacific Island inhabited by Head Hunters, is temporarily disabled
with an infected hand and knee, now gets plenty of bunk fatigue and how
he loves it! Sleeps 15 hours a day! . . Pvt. Karl Freitag, inducted
into the services June 19, landed in France with his infantry outfit Dec.
14. That's really moving, isn't it, gentlemen? . . Rev. A. R. Achtemeier,
whose monthly letters of news and religious thought and prayer must bring
all of you all kinds of cheer and comfort, broke his left leg in four places
just above the ankle when he slipped and fell on an icy Madison street
Friday. Surely a tough "break" in more ways than one. Confined to the Methodist
Hospital, the pastor is expected to be brought home this week. I know I
speak for all Drizzle readers, Rev. Achtemeier, in wishing you a
very speedy and completely successful recovery! . . S/Sgt. Wilbert Marty's
in the army hospital at Sioux Falls with a wrenched back and 'out-of-line"
vertebrae suffered playing basketball at Rapid City Air Base. "All I do
is eat, sleep, read, and write-and watch the nurses go by," he says. (A
lot nicer than watching the Fords go by, isn't it, Sarge, but quit your
kiddin' and admit the gals stop at your "station" on all trips.) "Anyway,"
continues the ol' tail gunner, "As Heart-Throb' Woelffer would probably
say, "God bless the women-I love 'em all." (Ah, at long last, someone gives
"Bo, the ol' Romeo," credit for all of his brave and extensive pioneering
in the treacherous field of feminine impartiality. A very noble gesture,
Wilbert). . . T/5 Harry Schuerch's back in Temple, Texas, after
a furlough at home. It surely was swell seeing you again, Harry! . . Herman
(Shy) Theiler, on the post office staff at Banana River (Fla.) NAS,
thinks he may take a boat ride soon. Had hoped to get to Monticello last
fall, but unforeseen circumstances altered his plans. . . Capt. Hoppe
Babler, the wizard of the ivory balls, is at Kelly Field, Texas. .
. Lt. "Harv" Trumpy's at Las Vegas, Nev. . . A dandy letter from Pvt.
Fritz Marty, formerly of Monticello but in recent years of California,
Somewhere in Holland with the 566 Amb. Mtr. Co., hauling wounded from just
behind the front lines in Germany back to evacuation hospitals. His brother,
David, is with U. S. forces in England. . More about Fritzie in
the next issue. . Sgt. Wilbert Wild, a ship's gunner with the 35th
Transportation Corps, has been in the Southwest Pacific since early '42.
Wilbert's married to an Australian girl and they're parents of a baby boy,
born July 18. Wilbert is at sea much of the time. . . T/Sgt. Kenny Holcomb,
now with the Air Transport Command at Romulus (Mich.) Air Base as flight
radio operator on domestic and foreign ferry service. The ATC is very similar
to the NATS with which Wallie is affiliated. Both services are engaged
primarily in flying priority cargo and passengers to all parts of the U.S.A.
and the world and bringing the disabled and returnees back to the states
from the battle fronts. Kenny himself flew back to New York from England
via ATC after his spectacular escape from the Ratzi Gestapo. He had a big
thrill the other night when Sgt. Spence, with whom he shared his thrilling
experiences in Belgium and whose home is in Detroit only 20 miles from
Romulus, visited him. Sgt. Spence was home on furlough from Miami Beach
where he has been in a hospital resting because his nerves were pretty
well shattered upon his arrival in the states. Kenny hopes for assignment
to domestic ferrying service so he can be closer to that swell little miss
with whom the Holcombs were blessed shortly before Christmas
MY SINCERE THANKS-
To these Drizzle donors: C. "Slim" Freitag, Villa Park, Ill.;
C. W. Loveland, Art Miller; Mr. and Mrs. Wm. Lemon, Monroe; Sylvia
Breylinger, Casper Zentner, Frank Loveland, Mr. and Mrs. Edw. Schlittler,
Walter Schlittler, Jake Voegeli, Jake Kopp, Edw. Wittwer, P. J. Klassy,
H. C. Elmer, the late Glenn Zimmerman, Clarence Itten, C. Schmid, Zeller,
Elm Freitag, Jake Burgy, Fred Moser, Mrs. E. Frehner, A. Kistler, Mrs.
Edna Schuler, Walt Voegeli, Ruth Abley, C. M. Stauffer, L. Krauer, Dr.
Clarke, Mrs. A. Aeberhard, F. C. Karlen, Mrs. Thos. Brusveen, Frank Pierce,
Fannie G. Benkert, Mrs. Thos. Voegeli, Mrs. John Dooley, Dr. Horne, Joe
Voegeli, Mrs. J. Daubert, John Keefe, Edna Babler; Edwin Steussy, Madison;
Bernice Kingdon, Monroe; J. H. Disch, Earl Sarbacker, W. Gerber,
F. X. Karlen, Fred Stauffer, W. F. Hoesly, Fred Hefty, A Friend, Ray Gessler,
Fred Studer, R. Holcomb, Jr., F. W. Schuler, Madison; Ann Hammerly,
Los Angeles; Mrs. Albert Moritz, Rudy Switz, Mrs. H. Krueger, Mrs. Fred
Baumgartner, Frederick Strahm, Fred Karlen, Jr., Harry Klassy, Ed Gempeler,
Alfred Wettach, Waldo Zimmerman.
THE LAST ROUND-UP-
Looks to me as if Dr. Fred Hammerly, the Hollywood obstetrical
wizard, is now the stork's right hand man. In December Fred had a mere
50 deliveries-six of them within 12 hours! What do you do with all your
spare time, Doc? And, say, did you get my letter? . . Another dee-lightful
visit with that gay and dynamic citizen of the Windy City suburbs, C.
"Slim" Freitag. He's a sparkling conversationalist and time always
flies way too fast when he's around. Remember me to your family-and your
folks, too, Slim. Just In: A letter from "Bob" Blumer, dated Dec.
30: "Spent Christmas Eve in a foxhole, then our outfit captured a town
the next day. Ate Xmas dinner yesterday while dodging fire from German
artillery. Didn't mind it so much 'cause I'm used to it. Such is life in
the front lines." . . Otto H. Babler, widely known local dog fancier
and owner of that internationally famous canine aristocrat, "Sir Smokie
the Smudge," is unreliably reported to have turned thumbs down on an offer
of a cool $500 for his prize piece of dog flesh. O. H. held out for $501
and the deal was off! . . Thus winds up another Drizzle. I'll be seein'
all of you again in February. "Til then, the very best of the best of luck!