THE SQUADRON PULSE
For the Men of the Fightin’ 3rd Published in the Philippines.
Vol. 1 No. 10 Weekly May 5, 1945 3rd Airdrome Squadron APO 74
“DOC” TALLIES WITH HIS OILS
We have all sometime or another seen Captain Pollock dabbling away with his brushes, on a board covered with airplane fabric. It all began way back in Oro Bay when he became intoxicated by the rich, scenic splendor down there. So, he sent for oils and stuff and started. After several paintings, acquiring a style, he proved to himself and all concerned that he was not only talented, but had mastered the art. Fact is, now, his paintings have gone on exhibition in the American Physician Art Association in La Salle Hotel, Chicago, hanging right alongside the professionals. So, now, if you are the possessor of a Pollock, Rembrandt or a Holbein, consider yourself a big time collector.
THE WIND BLEW AND THE MEDICS FLEW
Several afternoons ago, a group of sour-faced men, all of which were in the medics, wished that there was something like Cyclone Insurance, as well as Class N Insurance [National Service Life Insurance - Ed.], etc.
This all came about when a fierce tempest which swept through our prairie-like area raised havoc, but few faired so disastrously as Knisley, Rohal, Houghton, Meirte and Trudeau. When the Pulse took a glimpse into what was once their proud squad tent, it found things in such condition that if that particular moment a VAFSvC [V Air Force Service Command - Ed.] Inspector walked in, the whole 3rd Airdrome Squadron, including the 1st, 2nd & 4th Airdrome Squadrons would have been restricted to their areas for at least 6 weeks. Realizing the horrible and potential punishment, Sgt. Knisely bull-dozed his boys into working on a quick cleanup.
“CLUB CARABAO” BLOSSOMS OUT
Last 25 April “Club Carabao” opened for business. [Editors note: A carabao is a type of water buffalo. Not to be confused with caribou, which is native to parts of northern Europe, Siberia, and North America.] Since that date it has proved one of the most popular ventures of the adventurous 3rd, and no wonder!
Bright lights, tables & chairs, music (with Cpl. Sgt. [Corporal Earl Sargent, the squadron’s audiovisual guy - Ed.] at the phonograph), books & cards all add up to a swell place to spend the evening.-----And then there is the bar.
At the last briefing by your reporter you could enjoy creme de menthe, cherry brandy, and just plain good old fashion whiskey. We sure did enjoy that cherry brandy.
Staff Sgt. Russell, who is manager in charge, has put Club Carabao over. A lot of credit goes to him for his work. And that excellent cherry brandy. Speaking of the club and cherry brandy, and all, we may as well run down there a few minutes. Just to get a little more information on things.
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Well! The club is going well tonight. Yes sir, the silver tones of the phonograph blend with laughter and good humor of everybody who are all enjoying CLUB CARABAO. Good ole S/Sgt. Russell certainly deserves a lot of credit for his work. Speaking of everybody down there, we may as well run down & gather a little more information, wouldn’t do us any harm.
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WOW!!/ THIGS are reay going along au fine arthe CLUB Ton’te’. YEAH! Good ol Stabb sgt. RYUXXEL certaunly deserbes alot &% alot (of ccredit STAFFF SARRGENT RUSSXX CERTK& C#%&(*#%.
THE SQUADRON PULSE
Vol. 1 No. 10 May 5, 1945.
Editor - Pfc. Stringfield, Assoc Editor - Cpl. Calkins, Cf. Compositor - Cpl Drecoll, Compositors Cpl. Callahan, Cpl. Harrell. Staff Artist - Sgt. LoMagro.
This paper may be sent home.
FUN-TOWN GOES COMPLETELY GI
Crunch, Crunch! The MP Jackboot has not only trod and stomped, much to everyone’s wrath and wonderment, but has kicked the fun-wanting, jungle-dulled GI between the slats. Why? Simply because somebody (probably an ex-Esquire clerk) decided to enforce the latest fad in Army attire. This all came about recently in one of our little fun-infested towns, so many truck miles from here.
Frankly, it seems a little strange. First of all, the town is not much more than any other burg we’ve seen along the line, except that there are more places to squander pesos; yet, we must have our pockets buttoned and pants rolled down, even if supply did issue a pair 3 sizes too long.
The way we see it from up here (thru our myopia and astigmatism), it’s just so much time and redundant manpower frittered away. Primarily, we want to see VA Day (Victory-Asiatic) and I daresay, such sideshow fantasies like aforementioned, won’t speed it up any. Furthermore, we’ll get all that GI stuff when we get back home.....LET’S WIN THE WAR.
CAPTAIN MITCHELL COMMENDS
M/Sgt Caplan, for efficiency in handling all Strip Communications.
FLASHBACKS ----- By L.H. Stringfield
“THE PHILIPPINE BEACHES”
(1st Installment)
From the lofty cabin of our LCT, a searchlight played on the putty-yellow water ahead. Men, standing along the rail and those sprawled out like limp jellyfish on the foothills of barracks bags and cots, watched the beam of probing light with glassy eyes and in deep, tired silence.
The ship veered sharply. Men straightened up, eyes opening turtle-like then blinking wondrously. Someone yelled, “land.” A helmet clanked to the floor, there was a gibberish of voices, some loud excited laughs, some cussing. Then a stentorian voice from the PA in the Commander’s cabin blared out orders. This was the big moment.
Technically, we became liberators the moment we hit the beaches, but that high sounding phrase was far from our minds at that particular moment. Soil....good solid soil, was the hue and cry. A handful of it was worth its weight in Good Conduct Medals, and if it were the least bit edible, it would have tasted like eggs for breakfast. Why did the soil have such a premium? Well, Jack, three daymares aboard that little “duck on the pond” was ample time for one to discover for himself how he felt about existing on the borderline of that which is called Life and the great Eternal Sleep.
Once ashore, men were like romping children out of kindergarten. But the thick, viscous fog of night curbed some of their anxieties.
Then 1st Sgt. Lindsay’s voice boomed, “Awright men, let’s gather round here. It’s late and we gotta find a place to bunk up for t’night.....so ‘spose we cut out this damn foolin’ around.”
It is worthy to repeat that the night was as black as cheesecake is thick. There were a few twinkling stars high up in the ether, but hell, that was just a sign that we’d have clear weather, and all clear weather meant was that the Japs would be over, and hell we were used to that too. The main issue was---where to sleep? The answer came quickly----wherever you dropped your bunk.
It was then about 2:30 AM. An outfit just up the beach was fast asleep, so men with voices like Griggs, J.T. Goodman, George and Weissman were restricted to whispers.
Getting one’s own A bag and cot amid the welter of confusion produced many bones of contention. Naturally, everyone was more concerned over his own belongings than the next fellow’s, and all that had not been claimed was left strewn from the beach to the depth of our “bridgehead,” 500 ft. inland.
By 0300 most everyone was on the flat of his back, while that inevitable few continued stumbling in fretful, fruitless search. By 0330 every last body was prostrate. Had to, by George, ‘cause the old arms, legs and mouth just stopped ticking.
NEXT WEEK “AND THE RAINS CAME”
MY DAZE
By R.V. Calkins
HOW TO HAVE FUN IN TOWN
There are still some fellows in the outfit who haven’t visited our nearby town (2, I think) and it is for them that I want to pass along a few tips on How to have Fun when they decide to go. After reading this, they might not even want to go. I might add that if you do go, people immediately figure you belong to Class I. (Class I are those that say, oh, the hell with it, I’ll take a chance.)
Well, first there is the ride to town. This is unimportant since it takes only about three quarters of an hour and the first 30 minutes you can’t see anything for the dust. You just brace yourself and enjoy the up and down sensations of the back end of the 6x6. These sensations are a little too strong to enjoy sitting down, so everybody stands going in. Coming back, everybody tries to sit down since, they are drunk and can’t feel a damn thing anyway.
And so we enter the town of so and so, where there are lights, food, drink, music and Filipinos. And, of course women.
At this point, if you are with some other guys, they may try to entice you to go with them to an interesting place they know of where you can have a lot of fun. I advise against this, since the night is young yet and you want to see the town and ride a bit in those one-horse shays, and get something to eat. Especially if Lt. Peterson’s menu for supper listed meat & vegetable stew with carrots, beets, and pineapple.
For about ten pesos you can get all you want to eat, including ice cream. This is fairly cheap when you consider 10 pesos is only 5 dollars. [He is being sarcastic. This is equivalent to about $73 in 2020 dollars. - Ed.] If you want a couple more scoops of ice cream, you merely shell out another dollar.
After eating, you will probably want to go to another restaurant to get a drink. The boys you are with will still be trying to get you to go with them to this place where you can Have Fun. Wait awhile. Let’s get that drink.
When you walk along the street, be sure that your buttons are buttoned, hair is combed, and that you have a hat. The MP’s pretend that this is San Francisco, California, and are very set in their ideas. They simply will not take excuses like, “A Jap captured my hat when I was coming in,” or “If I roll down my sleeves, I can’t find my hands.” Do what the MP says. He has a gun.
Now we’ll have that drink. The stuff doesn’t taste too bad. After the 5th one, you can hardly taste it at all. It is a fairly low grade octane and almost harmless. Spend 5 more pesos & take a bottle home with you.
You will probably be in good spirits by now and feel you may as well go with the fellows and Have some Fun. OK, fellows. Let’s go!
They lead you around the corner into a dark street. There aren’t many civilians around here, mostly GI’s. Finally you see a light in the distance. A lot of fellows are standing around. You get closer and sure enough! It’s a dart game and only costs two pesos! Now we’ll really Have some Fun.
When you get tired of playing darts, you can find the truck by yourself & go home. I’m not going to tell you anymore. There are some things in town you’ll have to find out for yourself.
AS TIME GOES BY----BIRTHDAYS
Houston Penn on the 6th & James Jackson on the 9th.
SPORTS REVIEW
By Fessenden.
3RD WINS FIRST SOFTBALL GAME OF SEASON
After dropping four straight games, the 3rd’s Fightin’ softballers got into stride Friday evening and subdued the 479th Service Squadron 8-0. The high point of the game was J. Stouch’s triple in the seventh with bases loaded. With Rose and Berning on, J.T. Goodman was intentionally passed to fill up the bases, Cathcart popped out and then Stouch stepped up and promptly smacked a three bagger to seal the game----but definitely.
Rose allowed three hits, walked one and struck out five.
3rd Adrm.
479th Ser. |
R
8
0 |
H
7
3 |
E
1
4 |
BASKETBALL
In the first basketball game they have played in the Philippines, the 3rd’s five came out 31-10 better than the opposing team which happened to be the 3444th Quartermaster.
J. Stouch led the scoring with six goals from the field and he, Fowler & Cathcart piled up 27 of the 31 points. Even though it was the first game they have played in some weeks, the team showed remarkable floor work and some accurate & tricky shooting. Brown, as usual, turned in some fine ball handling at the guard position.
The 3rd’s basketball team, captained and managed by John Stouch, is entered in the fast 6th Special Service League, which includes such teams as the 6th Army and the 6th Rangers. The team captain says the team will be as tough as Hutch’s donuts, and mighty hard to beat, especially as stellar forward Cummings is back from Smoke and Fumes school [training in firefighting aboard airplanes - Ed.]. Their first league game will be Sunday evening, May 18th with the 41st Troop Carrier. [This is an error. May 18, 1945, was a Friday - Ed.] Thursday night following, brings up a tussle with the 874th Engineers, the old rivals of 321.
Stouch, f
Brentano, f
Fowler, c
Cathcart, g
Brown, g
Buck, E, c |
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G
6
1
3
4
1
0 |
FT
0
0
1
0
0
0 |
T
12
2
7
8
2
0 |
TWO OLD TIMERS GET ALL UP IN THE AIR
Sgt. Beaubien and Pfc. R.E. Smith are the men. With about 34 months of SWPA service packed away under their belts, these two dauntless vets willfully decided to cap their few remaining months by stowing away some flying time. Both are Radio operators on C-47’s, while “Beau” is entitled to Silver wings and the Air Medal......We hope for their sakes, rotation gives them a break soon and that one of these hot-weathered days they can board a plane.......Frisco bound.........
THE MAGNIFICENT DECEPTION
Smiling or was it bitching. Anyway we were in some mood or another when we (the editors) ambled up to get our bruised beef, tomato cuts and coffee in the mess hall one evening last week. But our emotioned physiognomies were changed to a cadaver’s pallor when there, before our very eyes we saw tall, gaunt T.J. Coleman (former Chief Clerk: year ago) standing there opposite us, dressed in fatigue suit, serving the bruised beef. Too dismayed to utter a sound, we just stood there spellbound...Then a familiar voice said drawlingly, “Well, you boys just goin’ to pose or.......”
Together we looked up......and guess what? There before us, bigger than Watson himself, stood Watson himself. See what hard work does to people.....causes hallucinations and stuff. The facts, however behind this magnificent deception are: Watson was simply wearing an old pair of T.J.’s coveralls, with the former clerk’s name in big black lettering on the pocket.
There’s the one about the sculptor who put his model to bed and chiseled on his wife.
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