Vol. I. No. 29 BASE CENSORED FOR OVER-SEAS MAILING JUNE 15th, 1944
Roadside Checking Saves Vehicles
DEPOT VEHICLES; RESULTS NOTED The lack of sufficient preventive maintenance on Army vehicles has cut the life span of these vehicles enormously. Little operations that take ten or fifteen minutes of the drivers time before and after the use of a vehicle would save the Army millions of dollars and would insure the use of a vehicle when it is needed. Too many vehicles are now in shops for major overhauls because of the lack of a few preliminary steps by the users. Someone decided to put a stop to the unnecessary wear and tear on vehicles. That someone was 2nd Lt. William L. Fischer. The lieutenant arranged for a group of men to be stationed on the road to town; these men to stop every vehicle from the Depot and check for minor ailments. These preventive maintenance men check every vehicle from the Depot about once in every ten days. There are three men involved in the job. Pvt. Leo F. Spearance of Cohoes, N.Y., was a machinist in civil life. T/5 Kenneth M. Phinney of Malden, Mass., was a taper annealer before entering the army. Sgt. Eugene G. Bolis of Port Blanchard, pa., was a truck driver before donning khaki. These three men are out on the road every day, waving down vehicles. When the vehicle pulls up, Phinney asks questions necessary to fill in the form used for every vehicle. He ascertains the driver's name, rank and serial number, as well as organization. He finds out who authorized the use of the vehicle and takes down the vehicle registration number, type, the mileage and general condition. Meanwhile, Spearance and Bolis are checking the air in the tires, the level of the radiator water, the oil level and the general condition of the engine. They check for loose wiring and spark plugs. The lights, both dim and blackout, are tested. The windshield is inspected for cleanliness to insure the maximum visibility. These and many other units are checked. On different days they check special units, such as springs, transfer case and transmission lubricant levels and wheel bolts. |
Father And Son
Reunion On Depot
ONE OF THE MOST JOYOUS reunions possible was effected on the Depot recently when T/5 James A. Langley was visited by his Dad, after a period of over four years during which time they had not seen each other. George Langley, a Lt. Commander in the Merchant Marine had finally located his son after interminable months of trying. On four previous visits to India, Commander Langley had tried every means he knew to locate his son, whom he knew was "somewhere in India," but had failed. On this, his 6th attempt he succeeded in locating james and he made tracks for the Depot.
Called To Orderly Room
When Jimmy was called to the Orderly Room he was puzzled for he hadn't done anything wrong. As he made the turn in the road he saw his Dad and rushed up to him with tears of joy streaming from his eyes. The two men shook hands affectionately and tried to speak at the same time. After a few moments when the pent-up emotion had been released, they walked around the company area. Jimmy proudly introduced his Dad to the fellows in his outfit. He then went with his Dad into town to visit his Dad's ship. Jimmy intended making the most of his opportunity for he was scheduled for a rest leave within a day or so.
|
Visited Japan
The next day, Sunday, Lt. Commander Langley had dinner with the rest of the men in Langley's company, after which Jimmy accompanied his Dad back to town. Came Monday morning and Jimmy was forlornly packing for his rest leave
|
Jimmy was born in Liverpool, England and came to the States at the age of six. He went to school in New York and got a good education at the Jamaica Technical High School in New York. When Jimmy left high school he tried to get into the Navy but the physical requirements kayoed him. On the trip across from the States to India, Jimmy was always puzzling over a sextant, which he and S/Sgt. Crane had made. With the use of the sextant and using the chief engineers clock for a chronometer, the two of them compued the ship's course. Had their course been followed the ship wouldn't have been more than fifty miles off course. They were the butt of many jokes aboard ship but were really held in healthy respect.
Lt. Commander George A. Langley has followed the ways of the sea for a good part of his life, and cannot, in spite of his varied experience, think of any greater thrill than that of finally meeting his son after four years of absence. And Jimmy - well he's just about the smilingest man on the Depot now.
D(ISCHARGE) DAY - ED McMANAMON
The characters and events depicted in this little drama are purely ficticious. Any resemblence to persons living or dead is purely coincidental and I will steadily maintain so until the last space is filled in our T.O.
SCENE: Any Orderly Room.
TIME : The twenty-ninth day of the fifth month following the Duration.
Curtain rises to show the First Sergeant at his desk about which dance a group of GIs loudly chanting an appropriate parody on "Somewhere I'll Find You." They stop singing as Jow Goofoffski stalks into the room, still carrying the shovel with which he has been digging his last six by six.
Joe: (Reverently and respectfully) What the hell do you want now?
F/Sgt. You know, Joe, it's coming close to the time when we must part. I want to tell you that while we've had our differences and I had to discipline you once in a while, I really -
Joe: (Interrupting) Once in a while! I hold the all time Army record of 734 days KP in a row. I've reduced the surface of the 12 miles by digging six by sixes. I've scrubbed so many latrines that Bon Ami wants to sponsor me on the radio. And you say "once in a while." This is too much. He leaps to the desk and, waving his shovel, delivers, in rich baritone, "Too Late to Ask Forgiveness," accompanied by the still dancing chorus
Moe: Well, I'm all ready to open my business. (He holds up a sign which reads: "MILITARY TYPE SUITS WITH TWO PAIR OF PANTS. WALK UP ONE FLIGHT AND SAVE MONEY") When he sees the others present, he tries to hide the sign behind his back but it's too late.
Joe: So! You're going into business and only yesterday you told me that I'd have to have armholes cut into that potato sack because the government couldn't afford to buy shirts any longer.
Moe: What are you complaining about? You're still the best dressed soldier in the world, aren't you?
Joe: Sure I am, but why? Because I took your advice and bought all my clothes down at Lacy's after you told me that it wasn't fair for me to expect the government to clothe me when they were already feeding, sheltering and paying me.
A messenger boy enters left
Boy: Staff Sergeant O'Reilly here?
Moe: That's me, boy.
Boy: Here's your commission from Lacy's Department Store. The boss said to tell you to keep sending the business down there and he'll increase your cut.
The boy exits. Joe picks up his shovel and heads for the Supply Sergeant but the top-kick playfully fractures his skull with a copy of the Articles of War to remind Joe that he is still under them. Joe sits on the floor crooning a song that has frequent references to blood in it while he attempts to fold the paper bag, that has been issued to him for this purpose, into the shape of an overseas hat.
Enter the Mess Sergeant Lou S. Ite, carrying a full ham at which he bites frequently.
Lou: (Waddling to desk) You know, Sarge, I just got an answer from that guy who was going to trace my family tree for me. He says that I'm a direct descendant of some dame named Lucretia Borgia. Who was she, Sarge?
Joe: She was just a rookie, compared to you, Bud, though she did follow the same line of work.
Lou: (Highly pleased) Cooking always did run in our family.
Joe: Who said anything about cooking? I meant that she was the most famous poisoner that the world had ever known until you came along and made her best efforts look like Amateur Night at the Bijou.
The Mess Sergeant bursts out crying. He lays his head on the First Sergeant's desk and sobs, in between bites at the rapidly diminishing ham.
Lou: All day long. I slave over a hot stove and that's the thanks I get. I work like a dog trying to have a good meal on the table when the boys come in nobody appreciates it. I wish that I was never drafted! (Another burst of tears, sobs and bites at the ham.)
F/Sgt. Now, now Lou, we know you do your best. Why it's been almost a week since we had our last ptimaine epidemic. (He glares at Joe.) See what you've done! He won't stop crying for a month.
Joe: I'm sorry I said you were the same as Borja, Sarge. You're not. Why she poisoned people deliberately. You don't poison people deliberately, do you? You just do it through ignorance.
Lou: That's the last straw! The river is the only way out. (He runs from the room crying but decides to head for the nearest bar instead of the river. After all, rivers have water in them and he might accidentally swallow some before he succeeded in drowning himself.)
The noise awakens the Company Clerk who has been snoozing on top of the desk in the corner. A position he has maintained for the Duration plus five months, twenty-nine days.
CC: (Rolling over to his right side) There was a time, when the Orderly Room was nice and quiet but a guy can't get any work done here any more.
Joe: Yeah. It's a shame that the First Sergeant went back to his old habit of sleeping in the night time, isn't it? Now he keeps you awake two and three hours every day. I don't know how you stand it.
CC: (Screaming and pulling his hair) Sleeping! Why allotments alone keep me busy 16 hours a day, then I have to start on duty rosters, insurance and a million other things.
Joe: What allotments? I asked for one the day that I was married and didn't get it until my son was old enough to go down to the ODB and see about it himself. As for insurance, you haven't made out a single blank since the CO told you that there was no commission on the policies. And duty rosters. Huh! You just put my name into every blank space you find in that damn book.
The CC refuses to listen to such libelous truths any longer so he rolls over and goes back to sleep. Joe starts to look around for new fields to conquer. He has waited a long time for this day and intends to make the most of it.
To show his appreciation for the fine medical treatment he received recently here, an officer has presented the Depot Infirmiry with a radio.
Preferring to remain anonymous, this officer drove up to the infirmiry last week and with a few words presented the radio to the medical staff for the use of the invalided patients.
The radio is of American make and apparently quite expensive.
The officer is not of this Depot but was stricken ill while nearby and was taken to the infirmiry for treatment. Like all the patients in the infirmiry, the officer received the best medical care that it was possible to get over here. He recovered quickly and left. He returned a short time ago with the radio and it now reposes in one of the wards for the entertainment of all the hospitalized soldiers. The bed capacity of the hospital was only recently extended to 37 but the patients are still being taken care of in the best manner possible. The Red Cross and Special Service are doing everything possible to keep the soldiers entertained by supplying books, magazines and games. The medical department is doing a fine job and receives all too little credit for it. No man leaves the hospital until he is completely recovered. The doctors, nurses and ward boys are doing their work with a will that produces gratifying results. The Depot Infirmiry is one of the finest in India and the finest that the staff can make it. |
Joe: (To Sergeant Lyons, the section leader) hello Simon, still aspiring to OCS?
Lyons: Look, Joe, nobody can ever say that I acted like a Simon Legree to my men.
Joe: Who said anything about Legree? I meant Simple. (He exits left as the sergeant burst blood vessels right and left.)
As Joe leaves, the Mess Sergeant returns through the other door. He waves a bottle of gin in one hand and a newspaper in the other.)
Lou: Have you seen the papers? All discharges are postponed for thirty days.
So great is his joy that he awakens the Company Clerk to let him in on the good news. As the Clerk rubs his eyes with one hand he reaches for the daily roster with the other.
CC: how do you spell Joe's last name?
The chorus, no longer able to take the risk of hanging around the execution chamber, fade rapidly from sight. From the distance, their cries of 'Betrayed, Betrayed' drift back to find the First Sergeant, Supply Sergeant, Section Leader and Company Clerk with their arms twined around each other's necks. The quartet join in a sadistic rendition of 'Who's Sorry Now?' while the Mess Sergeant is satisfied to twine his hand around the neck of the gin bottle and accompany the quartet with various assorted guzzling sounds.
As they finish the song, the First Sergeant hails a passing GI.
F/Sgt. (Softly and sweetly) Send Goofoffski to me, jadee!
While they await the unfortunate Goofoffsky, the four Sergeants spend their time removing the snarls from their sixteen feet horsewhips. The Clerk gleefully sharpens pencils and spell Joe's name over and over again to himself.
Goofoffski enters right, the first and last thing that he is ever to do right in the Army.
F/Sgt. Hello, Joe dear, would you mind stepping in here just for a minute? Just as a favor to me. (With fiendish gleam in his eyes, he closes the door to the Orderly Room, cutting off the view from the audience. As the curtain falls, we hear Joe's rich baritone as he howls the plaintive, melody "Why Was I Born?" accompanied by the loud cracking of four horsewhips and the snores of the Company Clerk who having his Duty Roster completely filled for the next 30 days, has gone back to sleep.
Lieutenant General Sun Li-jen (left), commander of a Chinese Army division, and American Brigadier General Frank D. Merrill (right), commander of "Merrill's Marauders," troops of a U.S. infantry unit fighting the Japanese in Northern Burma, smile as they meet to discuss combined Chinese and American operations against the enemy in this area.
In the center is Colonel Edward J. McNally, American liaison officer with Gen. Sun's division.
|
|
MONTE CARLO NIGHT SUCCESS
We were there and we actually saw it, soldiers losing their hard earned rupees at the Rajah's Rest last Monday evening. Special Service was in on the deal and provided music. The Tigers played in the Court as a come on and as soon as a soldier approached one of the Red Cross gals would talk him into exchanging his good rupees for some pretty paper. This paper had bucks and figures printed in big letters on it but we could see that the amounts were all set out of proportion. For five rupees they were giving a fist full of bucks.
Inside the soldier was given the choice of many games of chance. The gambler's fever had by this time got the GI in its clutches. He could be seen making his bets and shrugging off his losses. In most of the games you could see that the house was way ahead, but at one game the poor dealer was alternating calls for water and aspirins, with frenzied calls for more money. His bank was broken more oftener than the Kid's Piggy Bank on movie night.
At 10:30 all bets were called and the business of gloating over the winnings began. One fellow confessed to losing over one hundred and ninety dollars and made it very clear that he would be first in line to see Mr. Gipsom the Field Director, about a loan the next morning. One of the more fortunate ones, Pfc. Bowman Harris cashed in considerable "CHIPS;" others lesser amounts.
|
Jimmy Aleyezos told us that he was glad his boys were playing their instruments and not on the inside with the gamblers. As far as we could learn their cut on the deal was the appreciation of the ones present. His gang is doing a great job and we hear that they always have a waiting list for future engagements. The Red Cross gals were busy little bees, taking the honey from here and putting it over there and Gene knows very well what we mean.
At the line-up for cashing in it was discovered that the money was in the hands of about fifteen men. These men received in exchange for the Credit Slips novelties bought for that purpose by the ARC gals at the Depot Post Exchange. Grace, Helen and Fearless did a swell job of selecting the items and as a result of their efforts another very entertaining and instructive (?) evening of pleasure goes down in the Annals of the Depot History. To the dealers, stick men and the men of the band, the thanks of all for making the evening such a lively affair. Too bad all the big money men went down to see the Information Film before they showed up to let loose of that stuff we get on Payday.
Writers note to the folks back home. Lest you be worried that little Johnny is stationed near a "Clip Joint," let us explain that the most rckless of the gamblers couldn't lose more than about $1.50. The Sad Sack of the evening lost exactly $1.31. All rupees collected for the play money is used to purchase the prizes, which many of you will be receiving in about three months time, for after all this affair is only gotten up to provide an outlet for that yen to bet a million. When you can get a five spot for three and one half cents "THAT IS SUMPIN'"
BAND AND SNAKES WEEK'S ATTRACTIONS
Depot soldiers this week will be treated to three interesting shows. As usual, the Red Cross leads the way with what should prove to be a very entertaining exhibition. Sunday, at 3:00 P.M., at the Rajah's Rest, Pvt. Robert Burns and Pvt. Sherman Berrett will present for display twelve local varieties of snakes - over half of them alive. There are so many different types that it should prove a memorable sight. The snakes have been defanged for safety. At 7:00 P.M. the same night there will be a discussion about the snakes and some salient features of the Indian snakes will be brought out. The place - Rajah's Rest.
The following evening, Monday, there will be some really hot jive dished out by a solid Negro band. Beginning at 8:00 P.M. at the Post Theater, Obie Olin and the Musical Jeeps will make with the sweet jive. They promise to make you bounce in your seat if you are alive. Obie's boys specialize in novelty numbers and have a large variety to choose from. The band is small but the boys make up in rhythm and bounce what they lack in number.
Just to prove that the WAC members have a sense of humor - have you heard about the outfit back in the States that has named its mail clerk "Postal Packin' Mama?"
Colonel Philip G. Cochran, 34 years old, is commander of the First Air Commando Force of the U.S. Army Air Forces, whose transport planes and gliders flew U.S. combat engineers and thousands of British and Indian troops from India to points behind Japanese lines in North Central Burma, early in March, 1944.
In preparation for the airborne operation, Colonel Cochran's fighters and bombers blasted Japanese supply lines and troop concentrations in Burma.
Later, the same Air Commando war planes gave their support to the British and Indian airborne troops in their operations to disrupt Japanese communication links.
|
OUR OWN OBSERVATION is that the morale of the men of the Depot jumped somewhere in the neighborhood of six hundred percent when the first news of the Allied invasion of France leaked out. Like the folks back home and soldiers elsewhere, GIs on the Depot expected the invasion every day, but they had been anticipating it so long that the keeness of their expectancy had been slightly dulled. There was no delirium, no shouting or boasting. Just a quiet happiness reigned throughout the post. The evening of June sixth men all over the Depot were huddled around radios, awaiting the details. With satisfaction they listened to the descriptions of the vast naval fleets involved, of the tremendous number of all types of aircraft that had been flown preceeding and during the actual landings.
WE FIGURE THAT the situation around the invasion beachhead will substantially be the same as around the Anzio beachhead. There will be a period of building up a vast amount of supplies and men before any real drive starts. In the meanwhile there will be a lot of aerial activity and many patrol skirmishes. Any drives that are in the making now will be drawn out affairs; feelers to test the enemy strength. We believe that when the invasion leaders decide that they've enough strength to push the German army back steadily they'll launch the major attack. And not until then. Remember the Anzio Beachhead?
WE KNOW OF SEVERAL fellows who don't like the way the paper is run... "It's not too bad," they tell us, "but there's plenty of room for improvement." And we agree with them. But we are only human, in spite of evidence to the contrary. If you will only let us know HOW to improve it, we'll do it. We don't know just what you want in the paper. If you drop us a line and let us know we'll try to suit your tastes. Our job is to please as many of you as possible. Please tell us what you want.
You really shouldn't be lonely over here. Secretary of War Stimson has announced that now there are approximately 4,000,000 men overseas and that that number will be increased by another million by the end of this year. Right now the number of GIs overseas is equal to the entire number of men that were in action or training in the U.S. Army in the last war.
WE SHOULDN'T CLAIM that we weren't warned about that invasion. On June 1st, President Roosevelt broadcast a stirring warning in which he said that the invasion would be launched in June, July or August. He said that, just five days before the first Allied soldiers stepped on European soil from England.
We quote from an OWI dispatch: "The army has a new 'bomb' filled with insect-killing pyrethrum which... contains a solvent under pressure of 90 pounds per square inch at room temperature. A three second application is sufficient to paralyze permanently all insects in a room of ordinary size." - Art Goldberg
|
Last week upon the occasion of our weekly dance we should like to lay aside as one of those times, for no specific reason that we can lay finger on, one of those times when life was worth living. We were happy. We wanted to be outdoors where it was cool and the moon was bright (one Wednesday dance when it did not rain); we could think of nothing nicer than to be going to a dance; the famed "Tigers" orchestra sounded wonderful; the problems at hand had more or less been solved; the day's work had been completed. We felt a real warmth towards this place and felt as if almost all the best friends we had in the world were right here.
All those thoughts of sweetness and light set us to wondering just what it was in human nature, in all of us, that set us against each other, that prompted our petty dissention and dissatisfaction. We are not just a usual cross-section of Americans; we are hand-picked skilled group of people. Some of us were called from bases widely separate to make up the most efficient possible outfit before going overseas. And how are we acting? We, who have probably one of the finest PX's in the theater, beer rations and all; we, who have a large domestic area being developed so we won't be so crowded; we, who have accessible to us, by regular scheduled busses, a town that holds at least a change, a variety, even a choice of movie and a place to eat (how many camps have this?); we, who have pretty good messes; we, who have movies to go to six nights a week; we, who are enabled to do a more interesting job or one we are more fitted to do by the presence of all the civilian personnel on our post (and though being a "coolie pusher" may sound ignominious, what if we had to do all the manual labor ourselves in weather like this? How soon would the war be over? How soon should we be home then?); we, who have a Special Service off ice which works its head off scheduling sports and making available equipment for recreation in our leisure time; we quibble and fret and try to do each other out of a good deal ninetenths of the time.
It is very hard not to see directly the outcome of our work each day. It would be infinitely more fun and interesting to see, say, a plane we had helped assemble, go out, come back, mission completed, then we'd repair it, and out it would go again to accomplish its purpose. What a feeling of accomplishment we'd have! But that isn't possible in our line of work and it is very hard not to see the woods for the trees. When this place was barely in the making, it must have been exciting to rough it, to live in tents, to steal necessary parts for important projects when the place was so poorly supplied, to see the place grow in spite of the hardships. Now it's like a Sears and Roebuck's, and the duration extends more and more dismally into the future and seemingly our hopes and goals are no nearer. We have to contend with the age old problems between the enlisted men and the officers and nobody wants it that way. If a military society were good, we'd have it in peacetime instead of Hitler's having it.
But we have many advantages; we are doing a huge piece of work; things are getting accomplished. We all realize it when we stop to think. So come what may: prickly heat, monsoons, transfers, salutes; we are an integral, necessary, and important part. The situation was not made for us; we have to fit ourselves to it and use it. Noses were not made for spectacles, as Pangloss told Candide they were, but spectacles were made for noses. "This is the best of all possible worlds." Not that we "never had it so good," rather things could not be better and we be at war.
Well, I've done it again, blown my top! You'd think I'd learn.
- Fearless
|
|
ARNZEN BLANKS TRUCKERS ON 2 HITS
Sunday morning on the local diamond, the 82nd ball club nosed out the colored boys from down the river by a score of 1 to 0. The pitchers of both teams were in great form. Arnzen of the 82nd sending 14 men down by the strike out route while Williams of the colored boys had 12 strike outs to his credit. It was anybody's ball game going into the last half of the ninth when with two outs Stewart singled and came home on Lantrip's booming triple over the left fielder's head for the only and winning run of the game. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Sunday, the 886th Baseball team played the Port Battalion at their diamond, and carried way the honors, with a score of 7 to 3. It was the 886th's game all the way, and a try for a revival in the last of the seventh by the Port was unsuccessful, but brought in two runs. Zoller, of the 886th allowed 3 hits, and Tober of the Port Battalion allowed 6. The sensational fielding of Chiappori, Babinski, and Wadmiller of the 886th was the outstanding feature of the game. Evers, 2nd base for the Port, spoiled an otherwise excellent ball team, by walking off the diamond in the 3rd because he didn't like one of the umpire's decisions (It was quite raw, we'll agree) and, not being able to take the bats and balls along, he took the drinking water. A unique way to punish the rest of his team for not walking out too! | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
THE TIGER RAG is a weekly publication edited and written by and for the Enlisted Personnel and Officers of APO 492, and is under the direction of the Commanding Officer, COLONEL FRANK D. HACKETT and Public Relations Officer, MAJOR STUART R. PETERSEN. STAFF: EDITOR... Pfc. Hollis H. Estill; ASSISTANT EDITOR... Pfc. Art Goldberg; ART... T/5 Layton H. Wicksten; PHOTOGRAPHY... Sgt. Les Gurwitz. Statements or policies reflected through the columns of this publication under no circumstances are to be considered those of the United States Army. Articles submitted by Officers and Enlisted Men represent personal opinions only. Internet adaptation by Carl W. Weidenburner.
JUNE 15, 1944
Copyright © 2014 Carl Warren Weidenburner
ORIGINAL PAGE ONE
ABOUT TIGER RAG E-MAIL YOUR COMMENTS MORE TIGER RAG
TOP OF PAGE CLOSE THIS WINDOW