20,000 idle as result of U.S. strikes
Chrysler war plants hit with 9,000 out
By the United Press
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Unions charged with planning wildcat strikes
Labor heads oppose employer challenge
By Fred W. Perkins, Pittsburgh Press staff writer
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Double death to Nazi fliers –
Gentile and Godfrey team tells how they got ‘em
In their system, first to spot Jerry would ‘tag’ him and other would cover tail
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U.S. official denies getting divorce at public expense
Congressman demands ouster of Commissioner of Indian Affairs
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Poll: Australians back post-war base leasing
But majority less than a year ago
By George Gallup, Director, American Institute of Public Opinion
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Roving Reporter
By Ernie Pyle
A B-26 base, somewhere in England – (by wireless)
The men in the B-26 squadron I have been visiting live exceedingly well for wartime. It realizes it, too, and it full of appreciation. You almost never hear an airman griping about things around here.
This is an old station, and well established. Our men are comfortably housed and wonderfully fed. The officers have a club of their own, with a bar and a big lounge room, and the Red Cross provides a big club right on the station for the enlisted men.
There are all kinds of outdoor games, such as baseball, badminton, volleyball, tennis, and even golf at a nearby town. One of the pilots came back from golfing and said, “I don’t know what they charged me a greens fee for I was never anywhere near the greens.”
At first, I lived with the younger officers of the squadron, then I moved over with the enlisted gunners, radiomen and flight engineers. They live only a little differently. And the line between officers and enlisted men among the combat crews is so fine that you are barely aware of any difference after a few days’ acquaintance with them.
Two little holes in roof
First, I’ll try to tell you how the officers live. I stayed in the hut of my friends Lts. Lindsey, Greene and Jack Arnolds. There is usually a spare cot in any hut for there is almost always one man away on leave.
This barracks is a curved steel Nissen hut, with doors and windows at each end but none along the sides. The floor is bare concrete. Eight men live in a hut. Three are pilots, the others bombardiers and navigators. One is a captain, the others are lieutenants.
The boys sleep on black steel cots with cheap mattresses. They have rough white sheets and Army blankets. They are all wearing summer underwear now, and they sleep on it. When the last one goes to bed, he turns out the light and opens one door for ventilation. Of course, until the lights are out, the hut has to be blacked out.
Each cot has a bed lamp rigged over it, with a shade made from an empty fruit-juice can.
The boys have a few bureaus and tables they bought or dug up from somewhere.
On the tables are pictures of their girls and parents, and on the corrugated steel walls they have pasted pinup girls from Yank and other magazines.
In the center of the hut is a rectangular stove made of two steel boxes wielded together. They burn wood or coal in it, and it throws out terrific heat.
In the top of the hut, when the lights go out, you can see two holes with moonlight streaming through. One of these is where one of the boys shot his .45 one night, just out of exuberance. One of the other boys then bet he could put a bullet right through that hole. He lost his bet, which accounts for the other hole.
‘Poker Seats by Reservation Only’
The latrines and wash basins are in a separate building about 50 yards from the hut. The boys and their mechanics have built a small shower room out of packing boxes and rigged up a tank for heating water. They are proud of it, and they take plenty of baths.
All around my hut are similar ones, connected by concrete or cinder paths. The one next door is about the fanciest. Its name is Piccadilly Palace.
In here is where the biggest poker game is usually going. A sign on the front of the hut says, “Poker Seats by Reservation Only.” On the other side of the door is another sign saying, “Robin Hood Slept Here.” They put that up when they first came because somebody told them this station was in Sherwood Forest. They found out later they were a long way from Sherwood Forest but they left the sign up anyhow.
That in general is how the boys live. They are warm, they are dry, they are clean, they are well fed. Their life is dangerous and not very romantic to them, and between missions they get homesick and sometimes bored. But even so they have a pretty good time with their live young spirits and they are grateful that they can live as well and have as much pleasure as they do have. For they know that anything good you get in wartime is just that much velvet.