Edson: Supplies for two wars keep Army stepping fast
By Peter Edson
…
Chicago cafes ask Petrillo to shorten workweek
Association cites curfew losses, wants musicians’ contract cut from 48 to 30 hours
…
Mark Sandrich, director, dies
…
Roving Reporter
By Ernie Pyle
IN THE MARIANAS ISLANDS (delayed) – There are five officers and six enlisted men on the crew of a B-29. All the enlisted men of a crew stay in the same hut, because that’s the way the boys want it. Thus, there are usually three crews of six men each in a Quonset hut.
The enlisted men’s huts are more crowded than the officers’. Outside of that there is no difference. They have a few more duties than the officers when not on missions, but they still have plenty of spare time.
“My” crew is a grand bunch of boys, as I suppose most of them are. They have trouble sleeping the night before a mission, and they’re tense before the takeoff. As one of them laughingly said at the plane just before takeoff one morning, “How do you get rid of that empty feeling in your chest?”
But they relax and expand and practically float away with good feeling once they get back and have another one safely under their belts.
The six enlisted men of “my” crew are Sgts. Joe Corcoran of Woodhaven, Long Island; Fauad Smith of Des Moines, New Mexico; Joe McQuade of Gallup, New Mexico; John Devaney of Columbus, Ohio; Norbert Springman of Wilmont, Minnesota, and Eugene Floric of Chicago.
Sgts. Springman and Floric are radio men, and all the others are gunners.
Sgt. Corcoran is the oldest of the crew. The first time I walked into their hut he called from his cot, “Hi, Eric, the last time I saw you was in the Stork Club.”
“But I’ve never been in the Stork Club in my life,” I said.
Two other guys
So, we puzzled over that a while, and finally decided it must have been two other guys, or else I’m living a double life which I don’t know about.
Sgt. Corcoran was a chiropractor before the war, and still gives the boys treatments. He practiced for three years at Jamaica, Long Island, and had a fine business worked up. I asked him how a chiropractor ever wound up to be a side-gunner on a B-29, but he had no explanation.
It’s unusual to find two men from thinly populated New Mexico on the same crew. Sgt. Smith and Sgt. McQuade never knew each other until they met on this crew, and then it turned out they had joined the Army the very same day. Now they are great buddies.
Sgt. McQuade was a fireman on the Santa Fe, and Sgt. Smith owned a grocery store, but finally had to sell it. They’d just had letters saying it was below zero back home, and they were at least thankful to be away from that.
Experienced combat men
Both the boys have had experiences. Sgt. McQuade made two trips to the Aleutians as a gunner on a ship. And Sgt. Smith is serving his second tour of aerial combat overseas.
Sgt. Smith was in the South Pacific in the early days, and flew 53 missions as gunner on B-17s. He has all his missions painted on the back of his leather flying-jacket – yellow bombs for the South Pacific, and red ones for Japan. He says he’s only got room for 27 more missions on his jacket, and then he’ll just have to quit.
I asked Sgt. Smith if he hated to come back overseas as badly as I did.
“Twice as bad,” he said.
“You couldn’t.”
“Well, as bad then,” he said. “But I haven’t griped so much about it since we got here. It’s not near as bad as I expected. In fact, we’re living as good here as we did in America.”
Experiment with mice
Sgt. Smith’s odd first name – Fauad – is Syrian. He is growing a funny little rectangular goatee, black as coal. I asked him how long he was going to keep it. He said, “probably only until the colonel happens to notice it.”
Sgts. Smith and Corcoran are the only two sergeants on the crew who are married. Both their wives are living temporarily in California.
We were all gathered around Corcoran’s and Smith’s cots one day, when Corky reached under his cot and pulled out a huge rat trap to show me.
It seems they have a mouse in the hut, who eats their candy and soap and is a general nuisance. They couldn’t find a mouse trap, so they set this big rat trap.
But every night Mr. Mouse eats all the cheese, even licks the plunger clean, but the trap is so strong it won’t go off. So now the Sergeant has strung thread through the cheese, hoping the mouse will get his teeth caught in the thread and thus yank the trap off. We’re waiting with bated breath to see how this noble experiment turns out.
Story of radar revealed –
Biggest ‘open secret’ of war creates deadly havoc for foe
‘Uncanny’ uses of electronics super-gadgets developed by scientists in wide studies
By Peter Edson
…
Worse than last year –
Thousands stranded in Florida and the ODT lets ‘em sweat
Loafers and essential travelers both stuck
By Joe Williams, Scripps-Howard staff writer
…
Gracie Allen Reporting
By Gracie Allen
Well, girls, that nice Chester Bowles from the OPA has been juggling the ration points again. He says that starting today we can get T-bone and porterhouse steaks for 9 points a pound instead of 12.
Now, I just want him to tell us one more thing – where can we find them.
Oh, but don’t get the idea I’m complaining – I’m not at all. I know that rationing is the only fair way to distribute things. In fact, I think that more scarce items should be rationed.
Men, for instance; now I’d be willing to share my husband, George, with any deserving women who might need him to go shopping with them or to do dishes and light laundry. In fact, I’m sending the following note to Chester Bowles today:
My husband, George, I gladly share;
He’s agile but fragile, so handle with care.
Marine commandant’s son wounded on Iwo
WASHINGTON (UP) – The son of Lt. Gen. A. A. Vandegrift, commandant of the Marine Corps, was wounded in both legs in the invasion of Iwo.
He is Lt. Col. A. A. Vandegrift Jr., commander of an infantry battalion of the 24th Marine Regiment. He was hit by enemy mortar fire on the fifth day of the campaign.
Young Vandegrift received a leg wound during the invasion of Saipan last year. He is also a veteran of the Marshall Islands invasion and holds the Legion of Merit.