THE SQUADRON PULSE
For the Men of the Fightin’ 3rd
Published in the Philippines
Vol 1. No. 4 Weekly March 24, 1945 3rd Airdrome Squadron APO 72.
SPORTS, LIKE A TYPHOON SUDDENLY HITS THE 3RD
“GRIPE FIELD” III STARTED, COMPLETED
AND PLAYED ON ALL IN SAME DAY...
ENTHUSIASM UNPRECECEDENTED
Overnite the 3rd bounded into action--not with carbines but with sinewy arms and legs, into the world of sports. First it was volleyball to sort of loosen the kinks----then we got down to brass tacks which of course is baseball.
On the eve of March 20th the first game was played in the Philippines. This was the result of intense planning all done in the afternoon of the same date. Pitchers such as “Blank,” Doug Henry, Rose, Brown, “Dutch” Brentano & Goodson, who formerly showed their stuff at 321 [APO 321 was Saidor, New Guinea. - Ed.], were selected to be the managers. They chose their players from the welter of enthusiasts who thronged attendance at a meeting in the mess hall, and out of it all came some “hard-nut-to-crack-teams.”
Rumor has it that “Blank’s” team has a slight edge, but the editor ventures to say that “he ain’t even in the picture.”
Gripe Field III shall soon see.
In future issues of the PULSE, an entire page will be devoted to Sport Activities. Batting averages, team standings, and big deal trades will be fully recorded.
SWEATING DAYS ARE OVER FOR “CHILI”
HE’S SAN ANTONIO BOUND
Pfc. Reyes was first to hit the jackpot. With 33 months under his belt, this veteran of the Papua NG and Philippines campaigns will before too long be seeing his old home town---deep in the heart of Texas.
There’s not much for us to say, except “The best of luck, and be sure to steer clear of the jungles the next time.”
MYSTERIOUS REPTILE FROM OUT OF THE DEEP
VISITS TENT DAILY ALMOST TO THE HOUR.
R.T. SMITH AND SNAKE MAKE GOO GOO EYES.
AROUSED BY FLIRTATION, SMITH BRANDISHES
BOLO---THREATENS MURDER!
A snake as cunning as it is mysterious makes its daily calling beside Smith’s bed. Smith in his hunger for zoological specimen, at first was contented to merely look upon the creature with professional curiosity, but, now he thinks that the serpent is ulteriorly flirtatious.....In no mood for serpentine courtship, Smith now lays in readiness with his bolo.
THE 3RD HAS A JUVENILE DELINQUENT PROBLEM
Of all the fellows we expected to stay on the straight and narrow, he was the one we would have given you 10 to 1 on.
But not any more. For about a week, he had been showing signs of cracking up, like getting all upset just because Jim Bulger was crowded & had to keep his foot locker on this fellow’s bunk. The other day, though, he really went and lost all control.
Eyewitnesses around the Supply Tent gasped as they saw him making passes at a couple of Filipina wash-women. They say he actually embraced one....and he patted the other on the, uh, back! Naturally we can’t divulge who he is (what would the Mrs. say?) but the first initial of his last name is: Charles D. Horne.
CAPTAIN MITCHELL COMMENDS---
S/Sgt. Robles for feeding the squadron under the greatest of difficulties during first month in the Philippines.
Seems like we’re constantly retracting statements. But Fate plays dirty. It wasn’t satisfied with stopping the WAC dance, now it brings in a new unit to take away our ball field.
THE SQUADRON PULSE
Vol. 1. No. 4 Mar 24, 1945
Editor - Pfc. Stringfield, Assoc Editor - Cpl. Calkins, Compositor - Cpl. Drecoll
This paper has been censored and can be sent home.
RIBBONS, BRONZE STARS AND CONFUSION
If there was an issue which brought about such a welter of confusion......it is on the subject of ribbons, who gets them-----what are the theaters, and who’s entitled the bronze stars?....
I hope that this confusion can be cleared here and now. This is it in brief: There are three theaters, the Asiatic-Pacific Theater which includes, Hawaii, the SWPA islands, the Philippines, Alaska, and Aleutians, China, Burma, India and Japan; the European theater, which includes Africa and the Near East, and the American Theater, which includes Canada and Archipelagos, Central and S. America and the islands in the Caribbean. We, up to this date, have one theater ribbon, the Asiatic-Pacific. On this ribbon, we have two stars (speaking of the men of original 3rd) the New Guinea campaign star, and the recent addition of the Philippine campaign star. We DID NOT get the Papuan campaign star because we arrived in that territory about 8 months too late. Nor do we get the Netherlands E. Indies star...because we were never there.
We are entitled to wear the Philippine Liberation medal with one bronze with star for participating in action with the enemy.
Oh yes, Theobald, don’t forget the Good Conduct medal.
FLASHBACKS --- By L.H. Stringfield.
WE AND THE 32ND MOVE UP
(1st Installment)
So goes MacArthur, so goes the 3rd. This time to [APO] 321 practically on the heels of the famed 32nd Divvy.
The unloading was done in breakneck haste, having heard from the infantry boys on the beach that the Nips would be “out” shortly, to give us hell. Nothing happened, but it was hours before any type of transportation arrived. Men bit their nails, drew pictures in the green luster sands, and played blackjack. It was well-nigh suppertime before a few tired vehicles showed up. Those, not with the brownest noses but those with the strongest arms were first to climb aboard and vacate.
Finally reaching the area, the men dropped off the vehicles like plug nickels---fatigued, begrimed, hungry and mentally undone. But, work was just beginning.
After wading thru neck-deep kunai grass we got the first glimpse of the area----a blank wall of matted, tangled jungle.
“Dis is de camp men,” came a familiar voice. “Unsling der equipment in dis manner---den clean out de airee.”
Unsmiling and confused, we grabbed machetes and began hacking. The jungle fought back with mosquitoes, centipedes (which got Mascolina), spiders (which got Hamer), rats, snakes and scorpions. It was a battle against time as well, for the sun was dropping fast. Miracles were per performed and by 1800 the tents were up. Finding personal equipment was the big problem as Capt. Mitchell can attest. He lost his gas mask. Even “Sherlock” Demay with his Post Toasties DT kit couldn’t find a trace of it. [DT probably referring to detection and tracking, terminology often used when discussing radar. - Ed.] But, others fared far worse.
To make things more uneasy, Japs were but a stone’s throw away, forcing us to wear helmets and tote carbines...even to take a bath in the icy N......... River. [Probably meaning the Nankina River at Saidor. Oddly, the river name was not censored in the follow-up article in the
March 31, 1945, issue - Ed.]
The first nite passed peacefully but thereafter the Nips came over like clock work. Unlike [APO] 713 a drone [meaning the drone of an air raid siren - Ed.] during the wee hours of night meant the real McCoy. At 321 we got our baptism...
Next Installment, “We Found A Home.”
---AS TIME GOES BY---
Birthdays since last issue----
Keeler 15th, Holthaus 17th, Phipps 17th, Lindsey 18th, Kaufman 18th, Steele 20th, Skinner 23rd.
Coming birthdays-------Nelson 25th, Genshiemer 25th, Lary 27th, Gaglio 29th, Stengel 30th, Roger Myers 31st.
REMEMBER, A LOOSE TONGUE MAY PREVENT ONE FROM GETTING TO HIS DESTINATION.
MY DAZE--By R.V. Calkins.
This week Uncle Richard is going to tell you a true spy story, so everybody shut up a minute and listen:
Last 10th March, S/Sgt. Garra came to the 1st Soldier with a tale. Lind said Garra had been coming back from “town” perfectly sober, when he thought he heard the faint dit-dah’s of a radio transmitter. The sound seemed to come from an ordinary Filipino dwelling. Thinking about it later, Lind decided this was peculiar, and he told Garra, who agreed it should be looked into. Sgt. Lindsey agreed.
“Calkins,” said the 1st Sgt., “you and Stringfield take my jeep and go check on it. If you find anything suspicious, come back and we’ll organize a posse to break it up.” “String & I will take care of it,” I muttered melodramatically, getting off the sack.
String decided it would be advisable to pack a rod, so armed with Lindsey’s .45, String, Lind, Drecoll and I took off about dark to break the back of the enemy’s espionage system. After a few blocks, Lind said hoarsely, “This is it!” We parked the jeep down the road, and strolled nonchalantly toward the house. Sure enuf, we could hear radio signals! “Who knows code?” String asked. I knew “V” (...-), but wasn’t sure about the rest, and nobody else was either, so we decided that String and I would approach the house, gain entrance if possible, & take a look. If we weren’t out in 10 minutes, the others were to storm the place. We shook hands all around, and went to work. As he knocked on the door, Stringfield said, “Here’s what we’ll do, see. I’ll ask for somebody. Whoever opens the door won’t know and will ask somebody else. Then we sort of ooze inside.”
A well-stacked gal opened the door. “I want to see," said Stringfield, "Mariano Juarez. I owe him money.”
The gal looked puzzled, and said “Come een.” I tipped String a wink. We went into a large room. The gal disappeared into a small curtained-off ante-room and returned immediately with a kid about 10 years old. “Well, what do you want?” the boy says. “Are you Mariano Juarez?” I asked. “Yes,” says the kid, “I am Mariano Florez.”
That stopped us dead. “Oh” said String after a minute. “I’m looking for somebody else, a Juarez---I think.”
The kid beckoned us into the ante-room. That’s where we really got a jolt. The walls were lined with US Army Signal [Corps] equipment. A Filipino GI sat at a transmitter reading a paper. The kid explained the situation to the GI, while String and I gaped. “Is this an Army Station?” String asked. “Filipino Signal Corps,” the GI said. “We are temporarily quartered here. Now, who was it you wanted to see?” “Floriano Morez,” I said, which didn’t sound right at all. String suddenly cried, “I just remembered, Calkins, we’re on the wrong street!” And with that, both of us made a hasty retreat, leaving the Filipinos to draw their own conclusions.
Back at the area, the 1st Sgt. said, “Well, where’s the spies?” “We shot ‘em all,” String declared bitterly, “The bodies are in the jeep.”
Lind, a disillusioned old man, went to bed.
CHAMPION CHOW HOUND GOES UNCHECKED.
“FANATICISM AND DARING” SAYS GLUTTON
JONES, “ARE PRIME RULES TO SUCCESS.”
Cpl. Jones will soon be decorated with garlands for his uncanny ability in being consistently 1st in the chow line. When asked if he employed a secret weapon to achieve his successes, he stated blandly, “sheer guts, having time to kill, and fanaticism are the basic rules.” Running a close second were Mosley & Lott. They have the necessary fanaticism, but attribute their inability to outwit the Glutton because of creeping old age.
For the extremists--Lueker, Eastland and LaMont--all hope has been abandoned. “Eating, like drinking, is just a habit,” they aver, “we can do or do without.”
DARWIN IS RIGHT! “TOJO,” MONKEY MASCOT PROVES IT.
He’s into everything just like a hooman. One evening he paid for his mischievousness. Heavy rains made it necessary that he be sheltered, so the mail tent became his haven. To his misfortune there was a can of red paint under the table not bothering anybody. But when K. Jackson wasn’t looking, Tojo got curious...his curiosity paid off in red.....all over him.
SQUADRON MORALE RAISED
VIEWS LESSON IN ANATOMY.
Several evenings ago, the squadron slipped and mushed through the mud to attend a movum picture at our local cinema palace, “Fantasia.”
Little did the assembled crowd anticipate the extraordinary surprise which awaited them.
After the Intelligence Officers had finished their lectures, making us all spy conscious to the extent of everyone yearning for a Junior F.B.I. Badge, we were exposed to Cpl. Sargent’s usual hocus-pocus in the projection box, lights on, lights off, disgust, silence, to finally find after much skullduggery that a circuit was disconnected.
Finally the flickers started. There came the surprise and morale builder extraordinary. The Universal Musical feature starring Emil Coleman’s band and associate artists. [There are two Emil Coleman performance clips on YouTube, but neither appear to be the songs described here. - Ed.]
The Delta quartet swung out from the curtains and caused a ripple of appreciation due to the efforts of a good looking colored gentleman who captivated one by singing in an effortless pleasing manner in bass-baritone.
Now we come to the crux of the subject. The spotlight shifted to reveal an almost unbelievably beautiful woman, snugly draped in the most rakish dress that it has ever been this individual’s lot to witness. She was singing something which should have been “I’ll be so nice to come home to.” A spontaneous murmur at first, then a rising crescendo of intense appreciation burst from the crowd. Whistles, yelling, yoohoos from everyone. A few emotional Gems:
“Turn around again, sweetie.”
“Raise your arm darling.”
“Give us that lateral view again.”
“Oh, my aching back.”
“Show it again, show it again.”
The mood persisted, two young female tumblers cavorted and squirreled about. Quieter now, but still after seeing so much “goody.” The show staggered on to a weak finish with a weak “character” warbling a weak number, “Good Night.” Someone at the rear gave a correct benediction, he yelled “Good Night.”
Capt. R.W.P. [Captain R.W. Pollock - Ed.]
THE PULSE INTERVIEWS A FIGHTING COCK.
On the theory that none to our knowledge has ever attempted to interview a Filipino fighting cock, your reporter set out last Sunday to do the following:
“Hello, my little gastronomic delight,” was my probably unfunny remark to the big red cock I had decided to talk to.
“Hello, Doc, what’s your game?”
“I’m a reporter from the PULSE. I’m to find out what a fighting cock thinks and does during their off hours.”
“Well, Doc, it’s like this, if I don’t win, I ain’t got no off hours, but if I do win, my spare time is spent chasing the neighbor’s hens.”
“Now, how about your fight today, Red?”
“Oh that. Hell doc, I am a cinch. If I don’t lick this guy in two minutes, I’ll eat your hat,” and the way he looks when he says this, makes me take my hat off & put it in my pocket.
“What makes you so sure, Red?”
“Well, it’s like this Doc. I got me secret weapon, and only Cockdom censorship keeps me from telling you about it. Do you remember way back, when French Berenger had some cocks? Well, I get ‘em all with my secret weapon, and I assure you that tonight folks will be eating chicken, and it won’t be me. Say, you better lay a two dollar bet on me, cause I’ll murder the bum. Go ahead and feel my muscles, I’m hell on wheels.”
“You sound like Tony Galento, Red.”
“Never heard of the guy, Doc, but if he’s anywhere near my weight I can lick him. Guess we better call it a day, Doc, on account of I gotta get some shuteye before the fight, and say Doc, you gotta stick of gum?”
---Lt. J.M.A. [probably Lieutenant Alegria (later captain) - Ed.]
“Did you know, dear, that that tunnel we just passed through was two miles long and cost $12,000,000?” asked the young man of his sweetheart.
“Oh really?” she replied, as she started to rearrange her dishevelled hair. “Well, it was worth it, wasn’t it?”
Dentist: “Sorry, but I’m all out of gas.”
Gal-in-chair: “Ye gods! Do dentists pull that old stuff, too?”
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