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Betty's last diary entry was July 17, 1945. It seems a bit strange to me that she kept diaries for 6.5 years and then suddenly stopped. It's an unsolvable mystery now, because I never asked why she stopped. It's not like she wrote much about her deepest, most secret dreams and desires that she might want to suddenly go silent about. Was it simply that she was at the place in her life that she wanted to be? Married, husband home from war and working and heading back to school? I wish I knew or at least asked her. I can piece together bits and pieces about their lives after July 1945 and I'll add posts about some of those stories someday. A couple of notes and then the final entries. "Aunt Cots" and "Aunt Nikki" are Ang's relatives. I can't find any information as to who "I.C." is or how long Ang worked there. However I do know he was admitted to Northwestern University in Fall 1945 (thanks GI BILL!) with advanced standing due to his credits from the University of Illinois. This is where the legendary poker winnings came into play. The story is that they lived on that money while he finished school.  Ang Adams, 1945. Perhaps in a new suit for his new job. Sun. July 1. Ang up at 4:30. I went to 10:00 Mass. Had barbecue at Forest Preserves. Pretty good time. Sort of coolish though. In bed by 10:00 July 2. Ang began hunt for job. Coolish and cloudy. Downtown to bank. Home for dinner and to movie with Jen. July 3. Ang out again today - just ideas. To Aunt Cots in PM - she came for dinner. Out to show with John and Jen. Bed about 3:00. July 4. Up late. To Grams for while in P.M. Dinner at home then to Aunt Nikki’s. I had a bad mood. Late to bed. July 5. Downtown to bank Ang’s check. Did some shopping. He got a job at I.C. Starts tom. Took Jen to movies. July 6. Cold isn’t as bad as it began. Up to Grams and washed. Very dreary day. John home for dinner. To movies again. July 7-10. no entry July 11. Up to see Frances Kirsch today. Real nice visit. July 12. no entry July 13. Did laundry, then washed head. Cleaned room in PM. To movies with J and Mom. Bed about eleven. July 14. Ironed in AM. Ang home early. To cleaners - car has gone on [??]. To Kay’s in evening to borrow hers. Late. July 15. To 6:00 Mass. Very coolish and windy at St. Joe. We got home about 10:00 and right to bed. Sure tired. July 16. Washed today. Had bath. Cleaned up and got dinner. Took Kays car back. Home and bed by 10:30 July 17. Downtown to bank and then shopping. Went to store and then dinner. To bed about 9:30. And just like that, Betty stops writing in her diary. Next up for Ang and Betty Adams: Ang enrolls at Northwestern University to finish what he started at University of Illinois. Thanks to the GI Bill and Ang's poker winnings, they get a good start on their post-war life.  The last entry in Betty's diary. Tuesday July 17, 1945.
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We only have Betty's diary entries after May 1945, but we get a sense of what life was like for Ang and Betty as they begin their post-war life. As service people returned home, they would live with family members, which is what Ang and Betty did. For many, there was the possibility of being sent to the Pacific, but Ang was among the "lucky" ones who got reclassified and did not stay in the Army. In her diary, Betty relates their trip to the Army's Miami, Florida reclassification center. Road trips with Betty became a recurring theme of our lives. My last road trip with her in 2008 was her last road trip. My brother and I drove her to her Uncle John Henderson's 100th birthday. An epic 700 miles in an RV, with Mom in her wheelchair!  Mom, Betty Adams, on her last road trip to her Uncle John Henderson's 100th birthday in 2008. Many people came into and out of Chicago during these days. Betty's mother, Margaret, who was visiting, returned to Los Angeles. Her sister Peg, leaves too. I believe she goes back to L.A. too but I'm not sure. I'm also not sure if Betty's aunt, Ann, who is Margaret's youngest sister, is coming or going! When she mentions "Mom" she is talking about Ang's mother. John and Jen are Ang's brother and sister. "Gram" is her grandmother Anna Henderson -- her great-grandmother Elizabeth Harrington died in May.  Ang and his sister Jen. This photo is in an old scrapbook. Caption saying" before trip to Miami Fla. I think this may be the car Ang and Betty bought and drove down to Miami. Friday, June 1. Washed this A.M. Jen went with us to say goodbye to Mother. Waited for Bud but he didn’t show up. Bed late. June 2. Dark and rainy looking. Left about nine. Very nice driving. Stayed in Evansville - nice hotel. Early to bed. June 3. To early Mass then on our way. Cloudy again but very comfortable. Stayed in Chattanooga. Seeing a lot of the country. Late. June 4. Warmer today and sunny. Sure went through some mountains. Stopped at Waycross, Ga. June 5. What a blister of a day! Golly! Can tell you're getting south. Stayed in Ft. Pierce, Fla at a tourist camp. Very nice! June 6. Up very early so we could get here before it got too hot. Checked in about noon. Nice hotel but not the best. Bed late. June 7. Breakfast early with Ang. Ironed in A.M. and read all P.M. Just loafed all evening. Typed some for Ang. Bed late. June 8. Up early and breakfast with Ang. Read all A.M. Took some laundry in after lunch - then to beach. Both burned. To movies. June 9. To beach in P.M. But just for little while. I went in the water but not much fun. For ride in evening. Read papers. Late. Jun 10. To 9:00 Mass at Post Chapel. Very warm. To beach in A.M. Laid around all P.M. To dinner then for a ride and to movie. June 11. Ang classified for discharged? Almost seems impossible. Ang gone all PM. To beach by self. Just loafed in evening. June 12. Ang busy all day at one thing and another. I went to Beach, but didn’t stay long. Marches in for awhile in evening. Bed 10:30 June 13. Had letter from Peg. Donny had a nasty fall. Called her in evening - he’s better. Thank goodness. To movie. June 14. Sent Peg some money. Ang is so good about it. My tan progressing. June 15. Same routine today. Had supper a the Shoremeede and had to eat meat. To movie in evening. Habit forming. June 16. No entry.  Postcard showing the Shoremeade Hotel. I assume this is the place Betty mentions. June 17. To 9:00 Mass. Sure warm. To pool in afternoon and home and read. After dinner to a movie. Again! June 18. Breakfast with M[??] To pool in P.M. Read in PM. To dinner and then to movie in town. No orders yet. Late. June 19. Breakfast at 10:00 then drive Mohrt{?] out to field. Napped in PM. To dinner at 6:00 and to movie. Drink with LeMay. June 20. Coudy again today so couldn’t go to beach. Orders were in when we got back. Some laundry and packed. June 21. Met Marshe for breakfast — also saw Morhts for minute. Rainy and warm. Got started about 4:00. Awful tire trouble — Daytona Beach. June 22. Didn’t get started until 10:30 - because of tire. Rained awfully hard all afternoon. Went into Macon. June 23. Got started early again. Stopped in Atlanta and got another tire. Drove until almost midnight. Stayed at Evansville. June 24. To early Mass and on our way again. Very warm. Arrived about 3:00 PM. To Peg’s in evening. Then out with Adams. Rainy. Cooler. June 25. At Peg’s all day helping her get packed. Mother called about Peg’s luggage. Ang came about 7:00 - stayed a while. June 26. Took Peg’s luggage down then up to Grams after lunch. She left about 5:30. Hope she makes it ok. Ang to Ft. Sheridan. Home late. June 27. Ang to Ft. Sheridan very early. I washed at Grams. Very warm. Drove Marsh downtown. To movie with J & J in evening. June 28. Up with Ang, but back to bed. Marsh here for lunch. Downtown shopping for Ang. June 29. no entry June 30. Didn’t get up until late. Picked up Ann’s luggage for her. Then down to pick up lamb for tomorrow. Read in evening and bed early.
August 2012. In what felt like a miracle from the “Wild Blue Yonder,” I received an email from Barbara Connolly, a 57th Bomb Wing Association member. We exchanged a few emails in 2007 when I replied to a query on the 57th BW list serve about members who lost family members in the war. After a series of emails with other people in August 2012, Barbara remembered my note and our correspondence from 2007 and sent me this message: “Oh Joni, Please be here. . . Please. . please.... I found the Cahills.” And then a few hours later, she wrote again: “Joni meet Michelle ... and Michelle, meet Joni :) :) :) :) You both talk away and do some research together.” Michelle is the niece of Tom Cahill who was killed in action on February 5, 1945. Tom and Ang served in the 486th Bomb Squadron on Corsica. I have noted the various times Ang mentioned Tom and his brother Jack, in the letters sent to Betty, and that Betty visited Mrs. Cahill while she lived in Los Angeles. If you enter Cahill in the SEARCH box or click on the name under Categories, you can find these mentions.  Cover of "Dear Mom" by Michelle Cahill. Michelle had the letters her uncles Tom and Jack wrote to Michelle’s grandmother while they were overseas flying on B-25’s from Corsica and B-24’s from England. She told part of the story in a feature published in her local paper. http://www.ocregister.com/2012/03/29/she-found-wwii-letters-met-her-uncles/ In 2015 she told her uncles’ stories in her book, "Dear Mom. A Family Finds its Past in World War II Letters Home." I don’t know when I first became aware of a guy in my Dad’s squadron who was killed in action while they flew missions from Corsica in 1944-1945. I feel like I always knew about the story in some vague way. I assume it was mentioned here or there on the occasions the War was mentioned by my father. After he died in December 1998, I made many trips out to California to help my mother. On one particular visit I sat at her dining table for several sleepless nights, reading Ang’s letters and his Army records, and taking notes. One record described his “severe operational fatigue.” His personal flight log mentioned “February 5 Cahill.” He told Betty about his friend's mother who lived in the Los Angeles area and sent her address so Betty could go visit her. His February 1945 letters revealed (to me) a rather cranky Ang. Then his March 6th letter to Betty finally told her about Tom being listed as MIA, and how he had to wait 30 days to talk about it. Maybe I was being overdramatic, but it seemed like the operational fatigue was certainly related to Tom’s MIA status. Ang said as much in his March 6, 1945 letter: "You may have wondered why I’ve gone to so many rest camps lately—now you know. It hit me like nothing ever has before—or ever will I guess. I wasn’t much good for anything for quite a while. I’ve seen other fellows go down before, of course, and I didn’t feel too well after, but Tom was rather a special case. He was about the nicest person I have ever known—the kind one can’t help but like—and he was about my best friend. And to top that off, I knew his brother was listed as missing—and all I could think of was his poor mother." I asked my mother if it was OK with her if I brought all the World War II files home with me to Maryland. I thought I might be able to “do something” with all of it. For the next few years, I did research; found the 57th Bomb Wing web site and list serve where I read as much as I could about the 340th Bomb Group and 486th Bomb Squadron. In 2007, I had finally transcribed Ang’s letters and Betty’s diaries, scanned his scrapbook and other items in his file. I began working on a web site using Apple's iWeb. And I kept thinking about this guy Tom Cahill, who appeared in the letters. That’s when I replied to the query on the 57th list serve, with a note about Tom and his brother Jack who were both MIA, as far as Ang’s letters were concerned. I had been unable to determine if either survived. When I asked my mother about it, she told me that not ever knowing what happened to his friend always bothered my father. Then, using the information in the letters I was pretty sure I had identified them using the ABMC and VA grave locator sites. I was pretty sure that Thomas D. Cahill was listed at Ft. Scott National Cemetery in Kansas with a death date of 2/5/45. And the brother was John W. Cahill, DOD November 21, 1944, buried at the Netherlands American Cemetery. I hoped that someone from the list serve could confirm my information. Barbara Connolly confirmed the date, but I figured Tom’s mother who Betty visited in California, was certainly dead and I would have to be satisfied knowing the brothers didn’t remain MIA and had burial sites in American military cemeteries. Meanwhile I published my site in November 2007 and so when I shared the site with my mother, at least I could confirm Tom and Jack's KIA status.  Here's what my first Honey Lights web site looked like. Then in June 2012, Apple discontinued iWeb and I had to decide what to do with my site. I backed it up and saved all the pages as PDFs. Should I rebuild a new site? Write a book? Or just give up? I was so frustrated. I tried to convince myself that I should be satisfied, knowing I had finished the first site and shared it with my mother before she died in May 2009. But after connecting with Michelle in August 2012, I knew I had to rebuild the site and began to figure out a new home for Honeylights on wordpress. Michelle inspired me to re-create my site and then, when it was attacked by malware and I took it down, she encouraged me with ideas try one more time with a book or another web site. Honeylights #3. You are now reading my third attempt! Michelle and I finally met in California in March 2015, 70 years after her Uncle Tom was killed in action. Seems to me, we should have met well before that, say sometime between 1955 and 1965, when our families lived about 40 miles away from each other in Southern California. I suppose Ang and Betty were too busy raising five kids. As far as I know, they never attempted to contact the Cahill family. Seems odd to me from the 2017 perspective, but it's much easier now for us to find each other thanks to the internet! So that is the story of how the niece of Lt. Tom Cahill and the daughter of Lt. Ang Adams tried to tell the stories of two men who flew in B-25s and how the two women found each other nearly 70 years after Lt. Cahill and his brother T/Sgt. Jack Cahill were killed in action during World War II.  Jack Cahill. Tom Cahill. From the Cahill Family collection. But what might be more amazing is that Ang and Tom not only served together on Corsica but also probably crossed paths many times as they trained for war in the United States Army Air Corps. Ang enlisted in March 1942 in Chicago; Tom enlisted in May 1942 in Los Angeles. Ang was sent to Santa Ana California as Aviation Cadet on May 17. Tom arrived at Santa Ana on May 20. They spend the rest of 1942 and most of 1943 attending bombardier and navigation schools because they each “washed out.” From Santa Ana, Tom went to Hemet, Las Vegas, and Albuquerque. From Santa Ana, Ang went to Albuquerque and Hondo Texas. In late 1943, they were both at Columbia South Carolina, for final overseas training on B-25s. Of course, as a single man, Tom lived on base, while Ang and Betty lived off base, sharing a house with another couple. However, as bombardier/navigators, I imagine they spent time in the same classrooms and then perhaps even on the same B-25s during training flights. We’ll never know. However, in April 1945, they each received overseas orders and their routes to Corsica were the same. The both wrote home about their "trip over." After spending time in North Africa waiting for orders, they were each assigned to 57th Bomb Wing on Corsica. In May 1945, they both found themselves with the 486th Bomb Squadron, flying in B-25s as bombardiers and navigators. We don’t have crew sheets for all of their missions, but we know they often flew on the same missions — in different planes — and occasionally flew on the same plane. Crew sheets can be found under the "Official Documents" tab. We even have pictures of them together, which I have posted here in previous posts. Before they ever flew a mission, they appeared in a public relations photo! Tom sent it to his mother with the following description: “The enclosed photo was taken about six weeks ago. The characters are, left to right, Wells Morris, Jr., of Westwood, Yours Truly, a couple enlisted men, and on the right Lt. Angelo Adams. I don’t remember where Angelo is from but I think he married a girl from Santa Ana. The picture was taken by the group public relations man wanting something of ‘typical’ combat men. Morris, Adams and I at that time had flown exactly NO missions.”  Photo from the Cahill Family Collection. An Army PR photo. Tom Cahill, 2nd from left. Ang Adams, squinting, on right. His vision was fine, but he had very pale blue eyes. I suppose they were sensitive to the sun. They appear here, in another group photo, along with the “famous” dog, Jocko  Undated photo from Ang's collection. People of various ranks and jobs. Tom Cahill is 2nd from left, top row. Ang is in the middle of the top row. Written on back: Anderson #2, Barnard, Savard, Marty, Nomland, Anderson #1 // Snoggles, Cahill, Faith, Whited, Me [Ang], Vail, Hoschar, Reagen. In October, 1944, they went to the Capri rest camp together. Sadly, Ang’s photos from that trip do not include Tom. But after that trip, Ang writes to Betty with the address for Tom’s mother — “Dear Mom” — telling Betty she should go visit Mrs. Cahill. He also writes in November about Tom’s brother being MIA. Tom had already mentioned Ang went he sent the PR photo to his mother. Then he sends more PR photos, this time of a group of men playing cards in their officers club. Ang also had these photos in his collection, though I did not know that was Tom, smoking a pipe, until I connected with Michelle!  Photo from Ang's collection. Playing cards at the "club." That's Ang, smoking a cigarette. Tom is at next table, with pipe. So - what does it all mean? Mostly, I suppose, it’s nice to know that Ang and Tom, like many others, established good friendships during war. You know, A Band of Brothers. Of course, we know this is true. The 57th Bomb Wing Association is an excellent example of the many friendships that outlasted the war. Ang and Betty kept in touch with many people they met during those years. Many of them appear in Betty’s 3X5 address card file box, where she noted Christmas cards sent and received into the 1950s and ’60s. For relatives of people Killed in Action, like the Cahill family, it’s comforting to know that their relative mattered. That their relative was and is still remembered. For Michelle and I, I guess the magic of reconnection is beyond words. With all the problems the internet causes or is related to, it has a certain magic to it. It’s unlikely we would have found each other without the internet. Finally, for me personally, well, it’s hard to put into words, even though I’ve written thousands of them here on this site. Perhaps honoring Tom and Jack is important to me because my family made it through that awful war without any losses. Sure, some family members made it through, only in the sense that they survived. There was plenty of what we now know as ptsd-like effects. Still, they survived. I guess finally writing this post for this Memorial Day 2017, is my way to honor Tom Cahill and Jack Cahill. Actual brothers. Two of eight Cahill brothers. Their loss was devastating to the Cahill Family in so many ways. You might say Michelle Cahill was able to return her uncles to her family. It is my privilege to tell a little bit of their story - at least the part that is connected to Ang and Betty Adams. Memorial Day started as "Decoration Day" to decorate the graves of dead soldiers. In that spirit, here are Tom and Jack Cahill's grave sites.  Tom Cahill and his B25 crew, buried at Ft. Scott, Kansas. The note at the top is from Michelle to her uncle. Here is Tom's Find-a-Grave page. https://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=451938  Jack Cahill's grave site at the Margraten Netherlands cemetery. Families there have "adopted" grave sites and bring flowers. When available, the cemetery also displays a photo. Here is Jack's ABMC (American Battle Monuments Commission info: https://abmc.gov/node/531241#.WS2Z3RTpVN0
In my first iWeb version of my Honeylights site, I stopped with Betty's diary entry on May 4, 1945 — the day Ang arrived home. My second attempt (with Wordpress) never made it into 1945 because I stopped posting when the site was hit by malware in December 2014. But of course, their lives went on into and beyond May of 1945, and so I'll continue to post stories beyond Ang's arrival home. Ang and Betty Adams were pretty busy in May 1945. Ang arrived home just in time for Greek Easter and his parents 25th Anniversary. Betty's mother came for a visit and of course there were plenty of family and friends to catch up with. Unfortunately, I don't recognize many of the names of people. Some of the places have been mentioned previously in letters or Betty's diary. What a busy social life!  Telegram from Ang to Betty. May 1945. Tuesday May 1. Ang called late last night—He’ll be home in a couple of days! Worked around house—downtown and met Jen. Painted desk. Worked hard. [May 2. No entry] May 3. Had a wire from Ang. He’ll be home Saturday. Washed bathroom. May 4. Painted bathroom in morning. Shopping and when we got home, Ang was here. Yip! Sure good to see him. Bed late—here we go.  Photo from Betty's collection, dated 1945 on back.  May 5, 1945 orders at Fort Sheridan, that Ang should report to Miami not later then 2400 May 29, 1945. May 5. Up early. Ang to Ft. Sheridan. To Peg’s in evening and then up to Kay’s with family. Bed about 2:00. Ang to Miami for distribution. May 6. To late Mass. Greek Easter — happy day. Corsons over, also Peg eta al. Met Reardons & Wilson at Beritz. To Reardons until very late. May 7. Rained all day. Ang out looking for auto. To Reardons - then to dinner and town for evening. To Reardons again. Late. May 8. Over to G’s - Wilson there. Up to G’s apartment for drink. To Peg’s for minute then to movies. Sat and talked. So late again. May 9. Met Ang downtown and we shopped. No luck on uniforms. bot Adams china. Jen & Peg to show & Blackhawk. Rainy. Late.  Sam and Stella Adams' 25th anniversary dinner, with Ang and Betty and Ang's sister Jen. From left: Sam, Jen, Betty, Stella, Ang. Labelled on the back: May 10, 1945. Bismarck Hotel. Interesting that everyone is looking at the camera except for Betty. She's looking at Ang! May 10. To church today. Ang out looking for car again. Took Adams to dinner for anniversary. Met Bud later & to Reardons. Had a bite to eat. 3:30. May 11. Ang went to church this morning. Had a bath and loafed all P.M. To Isabelle’s for dinner & then to movie. Late. May 12. Slept late today. Have an awful cold - rested all P.M. To Bud’s for dinner then to Stevens with crowd. Bite to eat, then home. May 13. Late Mass. To Aunt Nicky’s for dinner — there all P.M. Then to Baffes in evening. Rainy. Jim home. To bed early - 12:00 May 14. Mother arrived today. Good to see her. At Peg’s all day. Rained all day. Kids over in evening. Very nice party. Very late! But good time. May 15-16. No entries. May 17. Rainy all day. Stayed home and wrote letters. People in the evening. Not too bad. Bed late. May 18. Shopping all afternoon - not much luck though. Had dinner downtown and to a movie - alone with Ang. Company when we got home. May 19. Did laundry. Went to depot to see Reardon’s off. Picked car up today. Out to Bit & Briddle in evening. Not too late - for a change.  Betty & Ang with Wally & Pat Reardon. 1945, Chicago. May 20. Late Mass. Warm and close all day but sure felt good. Family down in evening for get-together. Sleep about 3:00. May 21. Got the car all taken care of - insurance and such. To Ft. Sheridan for ration. Spent evening at McGaheys. Bed at 5:00. Dead May 22. Up at noon - to Mother’s all afternoon and did ironing. Downtown and had dinner and saw a movie. Bed early. May 23. Had the car worked on today. Did laundry. Cleaned up and pick up Mother and Peg. To Stevens for dinner. Nice time. Bed 12:30 May 24. Up early and washed. Downtown to bank and met Bud. He’s all hepped on some idea. To Mother’s for dinner. Got an 8 day extension. Yip!!!! May 25. Fellows downtown with Coasters today. Unpacked and straightened up room. Read all evening and to bed early. May 26. Up about 9:00 but went back to bed when Ang left. Slept till 2:00. Out in evening to “Bit.” Real nice time. Home late. May 27. To 10:00 Mass. Met Bud and Pat. Had brunch at Pump Room. Up to Kays in P.M. Brought Peg home early. Read papers. Sleep 11:00. May 28. Over to O’Brien’s and then downtown to see lawyer. Had lunch then home. I napped then to late movie. May 29. Up to Mother’s in afternoon. Car developed leak in gas tank - woe. Had farewell dinner with Bud. Out later with J. McGahey. May 30. Up to Mother’s in afternoon and spent evening. Kay et al down for dinner. Lovely day for a change. Took some pics. May 31. Downtown in morning shopping. Rained again. Sewed in PM - a hem etc. Out in evening to Rapas. Talked and late.  Betty, Ang, Margaret (Betty's mother). May 1945, Chicago.   Betty, one year old, with her Great Grandmother Elizabeth Harrington. Ang wrote his final letter from overseas on April 15th, 1945. He tells her to "Get ready" because he's heading her way. Of course, this is the Army, so that means he's on his way as soon as the Army decides he's on his way. Meanwhile, in this letter, he finally tells Betty a little about his activities in Italy as part of the advance group who went over to help set up their new location. Betty doesn’t make note of receiving this letter, but on the 27th she notes that two of her letters were returned so she assumes Ang is on his way. My guess is that Ang's letter arrives after Ang. Bud Roehm (the friend Ang visited in North Africa in April ’44, see "April 19-30, 1944. Finding Bud in North Africa") visits and is still there in May when Ang arrives. Bud was probably on leave. His official separation from service date was in October 1945. Betty’s Great Grandmother Elizabeth Harrington died on April 15, 1945 (see the 5-generation picture in the post from 8/2/2016, "Five Generations: A Moment in Time.") It is sometimes confusing because Betty refers to her Grandmother Anna Henderson and her Great-Grandmother Elizabeth Harrington as "Gram". The funeral took place in Chicago and then she is taken to St. Louis for burial. Elizabeth Harrington purchased plots at the Catholic Calvary Cemetery in 1929 when many of them lived in St. Louis. Betty goes to St. Louis for the burial and while there, she visits her father and his wife. She mentions also some of the St. Louis relatives. She doesn’t mention her grandmother Anna Henderson, but surely she went to St. Louis for her mother’s burial. Or, maybe not. On the last day of April 1945, Betty doesn’t know it but Ang has arrived in Miami on April 30. April 15. To late Mass. Up to Pegs. Gram Harrington has passed on. Stayed there all P.M. Down to Adams and movies later. Rainy and cold. Late. [Letter. Postmark 4-17] 4/15/45 Italy Hi Darling: Get ready, my sweet, because I sure am heading your way in a hurry. I’ve finally given up the battle—enough is enough. I should be reaching you a few days after this does—I hope! There really is no reason why I shouldn’t. At least this is a sure thing—nothing can change this time. Perhaps you’ve wondered the lack of the “Corsica”—its because we’ve moved. I couldn’t say anything until the move was completed. Its also the reason for my lack of writing. I was busier than I’ve ever been in my life. First I had charge of the movement of baggage—what a job. I almost went out of my mind keeping track of everything. When I finally got that over here—we (the advance party) had to set up the outfit—get buildings—billet the men—clean out the places—etc. etc. When that was finished we had to start on the Officers club. I must say, I’m rather proud of what we made out of it—and I really get a kick out of it—I guess it’s the artist in me. We took one of the nicer buildings, and made an officers club that any outfit can be proud of. We had the walls painted in various pastel colors—really pretty. We requisitioned quite a bit of furniture—fixed up the kitchen –and we have a first class club and mess. Table cloths—dishes—four men to a table—experienced Eytie waiters—and we have some really good Italian chefs coming to work. Its really a rest camp—better than some I’ve been too. The only reason I’m writing about the club—is because I’m too damn excited to write about coming home. I’m really in a dither—so please excuse the short letter. I love you darling—Love, Ang. God, I’m really coming home—what more can I say. From the 340th Bomb Group Diary for April 15, 1945: "Here at Rimini airfield and in the theaters of operations all over the world American soldiers stood at attention during memorial services for the late President Roosevelt. Chaplain Cooper on the field here intoned a brief prayer after which officers and men presented arms during the playing of the National Anthem and Taps. Some 1200 members of the group and a few Britishers and Poles participated in the ceremonies. The service ended as our planes returned from Fifth Army front and close support assignments." April 16. Up early and straightened up. Bud called—good to hear from him. Downtown—then to Gram’s funeral parlor in evening. April 17. To kids and they went to Funeral Mass. Then to station and to St. L. To Stacks [?] in evening. Dinner at J__’s [?]. Bed late. Laid awake. April 18. Up early and to Funeral Home. Just simple service—then to cemetery. Bob H. here. Took Kay to depot. Snack and bed late.  Ang's 4/18/45 orders to proceed by air and/or water from overseas to US port and then to Fort Sheridan, ILL. April 19. Up late and read nearly all day. Fixed Bob’s brunch. Called Dad—they picked me up and to dinner. Called Chi but no news.
[I'm including this entry from the 340th Bomb Group diary of April 19, 1945. It notes the death of the famous Ernie Pyle, but is also interesting because of the description of the return to more formal military life. They now had access to better facilities for cleaning themselves and their uniforms, however many of these guys had been overseas for a long time -- like my father. They rarely had to wear their dress uniforms on Corsica. And many uniforms no longer fit properly. I know they enjoyed the better facilities, but in Itally they'll be required to "dress like soldiers" and act like them too! "American MP's have made their appearance in this sector and no doubt will have our men stepping a little closer to the line in matters of dress and conduct. Wing has cracked down on the military appearance and military courtesy items, so now we are supposed to dress like soldiers after duty hours and not scandalize the British Eighth army troops stationed hereabouts... Ernie Pyle, beloved war correspondent who came to be identified with the tired, fearful, lonesome, brave American G.I.'s he “covered” for his news syndicate, has been killed by the Japanese on Okinawa, it is announced. G.I.'s all over the world will mourn his loss, for they understood him and he them." April 20. Up early and to G & D’s. [Gladsia & Dad's] Began to feel a bit sickish so laid down in P.M. Downtown with Bob and Martha dinner and a show. Bed 12:00 April 21. Up early and to depot. Bob came along. Had a nice trip. Letter from Ang that Capt is still working. Downtown with Jen and to bed late. April 22. To late Mass—very late dinner. Bud came in in afternoon. Sure good to see him. To movies with kids. Late as usual. April 23. Up very late—Jen home from work all day. Went downtown but didn’t buy anything. To movies in evening. Late. April 25. Isabelle called—met her at dentists and spent the day with her. Rained in evening. Folks out again. No mail. Bed 12:00 April 26. Rainy and dreary. Uncle George K. buried today. Very depressing. To Peg’s for awhile—then to movies. Late as usual. [I'm not sure who Uncle George K is but can assume he is a relative of Ang's because I'm not aware of any Georges in Betty's family.] April 27. Ang is coming home. Got two letters back today. Downtown and met Jen—bot lamps. To kids with Ang’s present for Donny. Late. April 28. Up late. Ironed and then to Peg’s. Joe left for Md today. There for dinner and then home. Straightened room. To bed sort of early. April 29. Coolish today. To 11:00 Mass. Late dinner—then downtown to movie. Home early—had a bath then wrote a couple letters. Late. April 30. Up late—and did laundry. Did some more on room. To store and cleaners. To library in evening. Wrote letters. [Ang's "Information for Public Relations" indicates that he returned to the U.S. on 4/30/1945. Also, there's a note in Ang's files, in his handwriting: "4/25/45 Italy to USA, arrived 4/30/45. Miami." I assume he flew with some group coming back to the States. I think it would take longer by ship. One more thing I never asked him.]  "Final Victory is Near." April 1945 "Special Order of the Day" from Field Marshal, H. R. Alexander, Allied Commander, Mediterranean Theatre. From Ang's collection. Regarding the final Allied push of April 1945. We don’t know much about Ang’s activities between his March 28th and his April 8th & 13th letters, but we find out later that he’s moved with the Group over to Italy. His Form 5 lists a 4 hour flight, with 3 landings. We can probably assume this was when he moved over to Rimini - although he may have gone with Captain Pray on the 2nd. Another mystery. Maybe he was involved with moving people and supplies back and forth which might explain the 3 landings. Mostly he talks about the possible timing of his return and about whether to wait for a captaincy. He also talks about Tom Cahill’s mother and mentions the death of President Roosevelt. We know a little bit about the move to Italy from the bomb group and squadron diaries of the 340th BG and 486th BS, and Ang talks about it in his later April letters. I’ll insert some of the quotes from the diaries at the appropriate dates. Meanwhile, Betty packs up, meets up with her friend and co-worker Marian, and takes the train to Chicago. Once there, she’s busy visiting family, especially her Grandmother and Great Grandmother. She notes that she’s had no letters from Ang — and marks one year since he left.. She is busy cleaning and painting the “upstairs” at her in-laws which is where Ang and Betty will live after Ang’s return. Sunday April 1. Cloudy & dreary—wouldn’t you know it. Late Mass. Packed in P.M. Mother out in evening. Odd jobs & to bed by 12:00. April 2. Downtown & did some shopping. Stopped at store. Had Marian for dinner & evening. Leaving Wednesday. Late to bed From the 486th Bomb Squadron diary for April 2, 1945: Capt. Pray and a few others took off for our new base at Rimini today. Everyone is anxious to see the place. Have heard it was formerly the best seaside resort in Italy. Most of the men are anxious to get over there for some of those close support missions, however. April 3. Packed—picked up ticket. Lunch with Marian. Went to store. Just a light dinner. Girls from Club over. Nice present. Late. April 4. Up about 8:00. Bathed and packed. Picked Marian up. Quite a nice train. Nice people. Am glad to be on my way. Bed early. Form 5. April 4, ____ flight as navigator, B-25D, 4:00h April 5. Up early. Had a sort of restless night. Read and looked all day. Had to wait a while for dinner. Bed 10:00. April 6. Up early but had a wonderful nights rest. Peg met me and to Grams. Down to Adams’ for dinner. Bed late. One Year! April 7. Up about 10:30 and to Grams in P.M. Helped Peg around house. Had dinner out—stopped at G’s. Bed late. From the 486th Bomb Squadron diary for April 7, 1945: No mission today. The combat crews took off for the new base at Rimini. The weather has been cloudy since early this morning. April 8. To late Mass with kids. To Kays for supper—quite a hectic trip. Awfully warm. Uncle Aaron drove me home. From the 486th Bomb Squadron diary for April 8th, 1945: The usual confusion that accompanies a move was in evidence today but things are gradually being straightened out. Some baggage has been misplaced causing some slight confusion. Those men lacking mess kits have been scrounging all over for something to eat out of.  Ang's April 8, 1945 letter. Postmarked April 11, stamped by examiner April 17, and apparently received by Betty on April 21, 1945. [Letter. Postmark 4/11. No dateline on this letter, but surely it was from Italy. Not sure why it was "examined" except that being in a new location probably meant more censorship than on Corsica during the latter part of their stay there. It seems that it didn't reach Betty until the 21st, per her diary.] 4/8/45 Hello Darling: I know I haven’t written for several days—but, again, its one of those things I’ll tell you about later. To get to the main subject—namely my coming home. My orders are back—so I can start any time I’m ready—but (there always is a but—isn’t there!) there may be a delay in my leaving. I don’t know why things like this happen to me—but they sure do. Two hours after my orders got back—this fellow who has been trying to leave the outfit so there would be an opening for me, came up and told me that the deal had finally come through and he was leaving for the states. All he was waiting for was the Generals permission and off he would go. Then—up came the Executive Officer—“Adams—Staub[?] is going home—I’m going to cancel your orders!” By that time my head was going in circles—and I was ready to chew nails. Ah well—to cut a long story short—this is the deal. I didn’t let him cancel my orders—I’m holding tight until I’m absolutely sure. If Staub actually leaves and I get the job—then he can cancel the orders. They promised that if he does go home—I get the job of Squadron Navigator—get my Captaincy—and be on my way home within two months—and will not be required to fly any missions. Under those circumstances, I’m going to accept—if and when. At any rate, I will know for sure within a week. By that time—Staubs’ orders should be back—approved or rejected. I’ll let you know as soon as possible. I suppose that this news will make you a little disgusted with me—and I can’t say I blame you. However, I do have several good reasons for wanting to be a Captain—besides the desire for the rank and the money. One reason I’ve already given you—a better deal in the States. And the second is a much better chance of staying in the States. We have heard from several Bombardiers and Navigators who have gone back about five or six months ago—and it seems that most of them are on their way back or getting ready to come back—and I have no desire for a second tour against the Japs. I think, as a Captain, I would be set in the States for the duration plus. I hope I’m making sense. At any rate, I promise not to screw anything up—within seven days I’ll have the job and be sweating out a Captaincy—or I’ll be on my way home. At least this time I won’t be sweating our both of them—its one or the other—and I’ve already got the orders in my hands—so if they start giving me the run-around I can wave my hand at them on my way home. That’s it darling—at any rate, I promise not to fly anymore missions—so there is no need for worry. Come to think of it, the odds are on my coming home—so don’t make any other plans for awhile. There are several “ifs” in this deal (as usual). If the General approves Staubs orders—and then approves the cancellation of my orders—if –if—if—if--. I do love you darling—and there is no if about that—Love, Ang April 9. Did my laundry and cleaned up and then downtown. Met Bert Armstrong for dinner and a show. Home late. April 10. No word from Ang. To bank—Grams—then to Isabelles. Stayed for dinner. She drove me home. April 11. Did some more work in house. Kids here for dinner—painted upstairs later on. Rained—darn! Bed late. April 12. Cooler today. Cleared upstairs room & in evening painted it. met Jen & shopped. To Grams in P.M. Rained again. Bed late. [note in pencil — “FDR DIED” — not sure when she wrote this.] April 13. Didn’t get up til late today. Downtown shopping and came home with Jen. Worked some more after dinner—then to movie. Bed 1:00 [Letter. Postmark 4-14] 4/13/45 [No dateline] Hello Darling: Again, it’s a long time since I’ve written to you—and again I’m sorry. I don’t know what is the matter with me lately—I just don’t seem to be able to write anything when I’m at such loose ends. I guess its just the dislike of saying that nothing is new—and I still don’t know where I stand. Oh well, pretty soon—I hope! We just got the news about the Presidents death—and it sure knocked the poop out of everyone. I guess its just destined that nothing will ever be perfect. Just when our armies are going to town—the president dies. The idea of Truman as president scares us all to death. I certainly hope he turns out much better than most people expect him too—he certainly can’t be any worse. By the way, I wanted to say something about your letter regarding Tom’s mother. I guess she certainly must be a wonderful woman—taking things the way she did. I really would like to write to her—but I’ll be darned if I know what to say. I wasn’t on the mission when it happened—and I can’t say anything first hand. But I did talk to everyone on it—and the conclusion was that he didn’t have a chance. Now, how can I tell her that. Besides there is so much I can’t tell in a letter. I think I’ll wait until I hit the states before I write anything. I think you’d better start writing to me regular again. I’m still not too sure about the Captaincy deal—but I’ll probably be around for a month or so in any case. I suppose some of my statements (such as the above) drive you crazy—but you’ll just have to take my word for it that I have very good reasons for most of the things I do—and let me explain when I get home. O.K? Believe me darling—I wouldn’t stay a minute longer over here than I have to—if it wasn’t best for the both of us. I’m not trying to make a mystery out of my actions—I’m just trying to work the best deal for us while we are in the army—and perhaps after the war. I love you darling—very, very much—Love-Ang April 14 Up late—but worked hard again—moving furniture and such. Had hair done. Read papers and to bed. Nothing from Ang. From the 486th Bomb Squadron diary for April 13, 1945: We were awakened this morning with the tragic news of President Roosevelt's death. Only after they had heard it from the radio would many of the men believe the news. The deep interest that most of the men take in the war and the plans for peace was reflected in the little knots of discussion that took place all day wherever a few men chanced to come together. British and Canadian soldiers expressed their sorrow to several of our men. This is a sad day. From the 340th Bomb Group diary for April 13, 1945: President Roosevelt is dead. News of the sudden and most untimely death of the chief executive and commander in chief at Warm Springs, Ga., yesterday came to most of us today as we went in to breakfast. It has made little impression yet, as is often the case with the sudden deaths of great men or the announcement of a momentous event. But tomorrow or the day after, when we have read the news accounts of his achievements and the radio broadcasts describing how the nation mourned him, we shall more sensitively feel the impact... The prefabricated buildings for operations and S-2, briefing room, and the combination of ground liaison office, public relations and statistical offices, are under construction or almost completed... There was a stand-down today because of bad weather.  "DEATH OF ROOSEVELT." Front page, Eighth Army News, Saturday April 14, 1945. From Ang's scrapbook.  Ang's 486th Bomb Squadron patch. Ang's time on Corsica is winding down and he's pretty bored and restless. He writes three letters and describes a few activities. He talks about going out to wave off "the boys" as they take off on missions; says he's now a member of the Lucky Bastards Club; and tells the story of his meeting with the group doctor. This is one of his stories we group up hearing as a bedtime story or around the dinner table. He says he receives his remaining clusters during a visit from General Eakers. I assume this was the 7th cluster and not the 8th, as I discussed in the March 16th "FINITO" post. In his files, I found a March 29th transfer order, "Transfer from 340th Bomb. Group to 7th Replacement Depot for transshipment to US by surface vessel." However, because it's the Army ("Hurry Up and Wait.") he doesn't finally leave for the States until the end of April. He's not the only one waiting to leave Corsica. The 340th Bomb Group was moving to Italy and Ang helps with that move in April. Betty's time in Los Angeles is also winding down. She spends most of her time visiting friends and sewing an outfit for the Membership Tea on the 25th. I enjoy reading about her sewing because it reminds me about all the clothes she sewed for me. As usual, she works, shops, attends meetings, visits friends and gets to a couple movies. She closes the bank account on the 30th. Wednesday, March 21. Rainy all day—ugh. Didn’t work real hard. Out to B.J.’s for dinner and Bd meeting. Very late - sure tired. [Letter. Postmark 3-22] 3/21/45 Corsica Hello Darling: Doggone—this just sitting around is sure getting me down—I’m as restless as can be. I kind of feel left out of things—and yet I have no desire to get back into them. I watch the boys take off on a mission—and I get a funny feeling that I should be with them—even that I want to be with them—and yet if someone offered me a lot of money to go on one more, I know I wouldn’t do it. It sure is funny the ideas I get once in awhile—isn’t it? Ah well, I’ll snap out of it when I see that good old shoreline of the U.S.A. It’s just that I feel so useless around here—have nothing to do except swing an occasional compass—and watch the boys take off and land. Now I know how a crew chief feels when he’s sweating his plane out. I’ve joined the Lucky Bastards Club—its an organization of men who have finished their missions and are still in one piece. I’ll show you my certificate when I get home—its rather clever. I sure take a beating around here since I finished—“Hey you non-combatant”—“Whats the matter, Adams, no guts” etc. On the other hand I always go out to the ship before take-off and needle the boys a bit—“So long, boys, don’t spin in.”—“Don’t worry, those Jerry gunners aren’t so hot, they might miss you” etc. No, darling, its not outright cruelty—it’s the accepted thing around here—most of the boys even consider it good luck. I always got a small dab of it before every mission—and kinda felt a little nervous if no one needled me at all. By the way, I haven’t heard from you about Tommy, so I guess my letter was the first news you had of it. I’m glad, because it would have been a shock if his mother broke the news to you suddenly. I love you darling—and I’m rushing as much as I can—Love, Ang  Example of the Lucky Bastard Club Certificate. Provided to me by Keith Donovan, son of AJ. Donovan who also served in the 486th Bomb Squadron. Information and transcription is below. Keith Donovan, son of A.J. Donovan provided this to me via Facebook after I posted the Valor Certificate on Facebook (see below), asking if anyone knew anything about the Lucky Bastards Club. His note: Here's the 340th Bomb Group's Lucky Bastards Club Certificate from my father's wartime album. The notes on the Certificate are my father's, and he says that he and John Styga (his tail gunner who went on to be a successful commercial artist) put this together with Bill [?]. The dark blob you see on the right is red sealing wax with strands of chaff used to embellish it. The calligraphy is beautifully done, but somewhat hard to read, so I'll attempt to transcribe it here: We, of the benevolent order of "snafu's" do hereby admit into our brotherhood one T/Sgt. A. J. Donovan who on this 28th day of April Anno Domini 45 has achieved to eminence, by reason of having sallied forth no less than 67 times, and also by God's grace having returned in safety to his base, from each and every sally, at which time beaucoup tons of bombs, balls of fire, mines, petards, and other grievous burdens were rolled out onto Hitler and his evil companions causing them great discomfort. Be it said that Donovan (Bunky) was often a close companion of vino, capcorse and cognac, which helped ward off the beaucoup pitfalls of snares set before him by the foe, yet he did on each and every occasion, return unto his company with unsoiled linen crying forth to his companions, "Where's the Doc." To which the Doc oft replied :C'est la guerre. March 22. Rainy all day. Shopped at noon and after work again. Worked hard. Sewed in evening on blouse for Sunday. Late. March 23. Stayed home today and worked on blouse and hat. Picked up suit jacket and sewed all evening. Hope it looks OK. [Letter. Postmark 3-26] 3/23/45 Corsica Hello Darling: Here I go on this German typewriter again—I hope you don’t mind—I just like to practice once in awhile. I had a rather busy day today; First of all I had to go to see the group doc. – he has the final say on our finishing up. I think I worked it just right—even better than if I had planned it. First of all he handed me a cigarette. I lit it, took two puffs and the damn thing went out. I lit it again, took two more puffs and the damn thing went out again. I gave him a sickly grin and tried to crush it in the ash tray. Not looking at what I was doing, I neatly missed the ash tray and used his desk. By that time, he was convinced that I had it bad—and he didn’t give me any trouble at all. He just shook my hand and wished me good luck—and probably figured that I’d need it to stay out of the nut house. Boy, I sure can do the craziest things sometimes. At any rate I’m clear with the group and my orders have gone to Wing now—and that means I should have my traveling orders about the time you get this—so you had better put your little hind end into gear and start heading for Chicago—pronto! By the way, this is the last letter I’ll send to you in L.A.—from now on I’ll send them to Chicago. There is no sense in sending them there if you have already left. By the way, don’t get excited—I know that I wont get to Chicago before the middle of the month—probably a week or two after it. This afternoon I had to get the remainder of my clusters presented to me. The big boss, Gen. Eakers himself, presented them. He was very informal—gave us a little pep talk afterwards. He said that the reason he hasn’t visited us very often is because he usually visits only the outfits that are in trouble and need help or a good chewing out from him, and so far our outfit has needed neither ---hubba---hubba! He said that everybody from the President on down knows about our wonderfull bombing record, and appreciate it—hubba—hubba! He also said that he had a deep interest in every one of us as individuals—and any time we wanted help or wanted something changed we should write to him personally—a fine time to tell me—ha! All kidding aside though, he does appear to be very nice. I got a letter from George [Henthorn] today—plenty of poop. He said he knew two fellows from Chicago who had arranged to go to Santa Monica after their leave—so I think You and I can plan to spend two weeks out there. He sounds like he has been having a wonderful time out there. He is stationed at Douglass, Arizona now as an instructor. I guess that’s not too far from Las Vegas. I guess I’ll sign off now darling and write to George and Bud. I love you very much sweets—Love-Ang [From the 340th diary: "Lt. General Ira C. Eaker, commanding the Mediterranean Allied Air Forces, visited the field yesterday in company with Major General Cannon, TAF commander, and General Knapp of the 57th Wing. When Colonel Chapman gets back to the base he will be very much chagrined; for at least the last six months he has been trying to get General Eaker to visit Alesan. The MAAF commander decorated several of our men during his two-hour visit."]  Certificate for Valor. This undated certificate was in Ang's files. In my research, I found that some people describe this as the "Lucky Bastards Club" certificate, but I wouldn't describe it as "clever" as Ang does of the Lucky Bastard Certificate. Maybe this Valor Certificate was presented at the ceremony on the 23rd? Transcription is below. [Transcription of above Valor certificate.] FOR VALOR FROM THE ARMY AIR FORCES MEDITERRANEAN THEATRE OF OPERATIONS It is with great personal pride that I present this certificate to 1st Lt angelo Adams, A.C. 0741438 Navigator who, having been engaged in 66 combat missions in the Mediterranean theatre in air battles of great intensity, has gallantly and repeatedly carried the offensive again heavy opposition to the heart of the enemy and has, by his unfaltering courage, earned the gratitude and praise of his fellow-countrymen, as well as his Commander. John K Cannon Lieutenant General U.S. Army Commanding March 24. Downtown with Margaret. Finished up suit and blouse. Dead tired. To bed late. The suit sure looks good. March 25. (Ang’s Name Day) To early Mass. Dashed home and changed clothes. Had a lovely Membership Tea and my suit and hat went over big! Bed 11:00. Form 5. Mar 25, ____ flight as navigator, B-25J, 2:20h [A "practice mission," I guess. I don't know why, but a 2:20h flight seems long for a practice mission for someone who was supposed to be finished. The 486th diary says there was rain on the 25th & 26th and missions cancelled. But I guess the rain did not cancel everything?] March 26. Had a new girl in today. Sure hope she works out alright. Ang has quit and is on his way. Happy day! Bed 11:30. March 27. [no entry] March 28. Met B.J. and Ruth for lunch. Worked all day. Had dinner out and then to “Harriett.” Very good. Bed late. [Typed letter—addressed to 1911 N. Francisco St., Chicago, 47, Ill. U.S.A. Postmark 3-30] 3/28/45 Corsica Hello Darling: Haven’t written for a couple of days—that was supposed to take up the time of the train trip to Chicago. By the time this gets to Chicago—you should be on your way to there—at least I hope you will be. I got your letter of the 14th, and I must say you sound gay. That’s the way I like my little honey to be. Don’t mind me if I sound a little mushy in this letter—its your fault. Your mentioning the old school, and the time you were up there, put me in a drooling mood. Do I remember what went on—ha! Do you remember what went on out side the Commerce building one night? Do I remember—oh me honey, why do you bring up things like that. Its hard enough sweating out the next couple of weeks—and I have enough thoughts of my own without you bringing up things like that. You know I don’t mean that darling—you know I just eat it up—but I must admit it did certain things to me. Your letter of the 16th didn’t sound so gay—I would say you were in a lousy mood. The club seemed to have gotten you down—I hope you were on good terms with them when you left L.A. You sure sounded like a typical club-woman. Abel’s wife wrote since she met you—I mean Abel has gotten her letter since she has met you. She seemed quite excited about the meeting—raving on and on—about you—about the poop you gave her—the pictures you showed her—etc. ----- This letter has been interrupted for one day—and I’ve received your letter of the 18th.—the one dealing with Pat Abel. I didn’t figure you would be too impressed by her—so I wasn’t too surprised at your letter. As I told you, he is very young, about twenty, and I didn’t imagine that she was any older than that. (I sure am having a hell of a time—I always forget to double space.) He’s all right, except that he does get on my nerves occasionally with his kidish ways. His idea of heaven is when he can get someone to let him drive a jeep—that ought to give you an idea of his mental process. He’s kind of ruined things for himself around here with his attitude. I put in a good word for him with the wheels every time I could—and he did get a good start—he’s a First already—and he has been training to be a flight leader. However, he has a funny attitude, and he’s getting the Major a little “p.o” at him. Oh well that’s his problem—I certainly am not going to worry about him. By the way, it may take me a little longer to get home than I had figured on—nothing serious (maybe a week or so)—just another one of those things that I will have to explain when I get home. At any rate I think I can set my homecoming between the 20th of April, and the 10th of May. I’m pretty certain it will be between those dates—it should be. I love you darling—Love, Ang March 29. Shopped in AM. Worked in PM. Sewed in evening and planned for Tuesday. Bed pretty late.  Orders. 3/29/45 Transferred from 340th Bomb. Group to 7th Replacement Depot for transshipment to US by surface vessel. After arrival in US get 3 weeks leave. March 30. Downtown late and closed acct in bank. Met Pat Able for lunch and a movie. Real nice time. Home alone all evening.
March 31. Worked until 1:30 Hot again today. Mr. S—out to dinner early. Met Martha and to movie in Hollywood. Bed 1:30. This post doesn't not include letters, but I wanted to include these documents somewhere. As I was going through my Dad's files when I first began working on this project, these documents took my breath away. I'm sure they were more or less like "form letters" but they seem to describe my father's condition in March 1945. I'm pretty sure "moderately severe operational fatigue" described all the air crews, and anyone who had been overseas fighting in the air or on the ground for 10+ months.  "Rotation of Combat Crew Personnel," page 1. Page 2 is below. See transcription below. "Lt. Adams is in a state of moderately severe operational fatigue as a result of his many infrequent leads as navigator and together with his numerous hazardous experiences." [Transcription of above document.] 486th BOMBARDMENT SQUADRON 340th BOMBARDMENT GROUP (M) ARMY AIR FORCES APO 650, US Army 20 March 1945 SUBJECT: Rotation of Combat Crew Personnel. TO: Commanding Officer, 486 the Sqdn, 340th Bomb Gp (M). 1. In accordance with memorandum, Headquarters AAF/MTO, I hereby certify that 1st Lt. Adams, Angelo (NMI) 0-741436 has completed 66 combat missions totaling 197 hours and 40 minutes as Navigator, and has been on foreign duty since 11 April 1944. 2. Lt. Adams is in a state of moderately severe operational fatigue as a result of his many infrequent leads as navigator and together with his numerous hazardous experiences. He was first in a plane with a nose wheel collapse, then a tire blew out on take-off. Then a single engine over the mountains and finally with a hydraulic failure. He has been over the Brenner Pass at least twenty (20) times and his judgement has been seriously hampered to the point where it is no longer advisable to fly him. 3. I recommend that Lt. Adams be returned to the States for rehabilitation and reassignment. [signed] CHARLES B. WATHEN Captain, Med Corps Squadron Surgeon 486 BOMB SQ. 340 BOMB GP (M), APO 650 US Army, 20 March 1945 TO: Commanding Officer, 340th Bombardment Group (M)1 1. The statements of the Squadron Surgeon concerning 1st Lt Adams, Angelo 0-741436, present a true and accuate analysis of Lt. Adams’ condition. I concur with the recommendations of the Squadron Surgeon in that Lt. [...Angelo Adams...paper is torn.......] returned to the United States for rehabilitation and reassignment. [ ……paper torn………] does not desire to fly a tour with MATS. All earned awards have been [………paper torn……..] general orders. Lt. Adams MOS is 1036. ROBERT M HACKNEY Major, Air Corps Commanding  Rotation of Combat Crew Personnel, page 2.  From Ang's files and in his "201 File" dated March 20, 1945. I don't know if this is something official, but it is signed by Major Hackney and by the Squadron Surgeon, Charles Watham. Transcription is below. [Transcription of above "Certificate."
486th Bombardment Squadron 340th Bombardment Group 20 March 1945 CERTIFICATE I certify that 1st Lt, Adams, Angelo, 0-741438 was removed from combat flying status on 20 March 1945 by reason of an aviation accident (exhaustion as a result of prolonged combat duty) and, except for the incapacitating accident, the enlisted man concerned would have been continued in a combat flying status for the period from 20 March 1945 to 20 June 1945, inclusive, and therefore is entitled to receive flying pay for that period in accordance with provisions of paragraph 2 (10), AR 35-1480 and Letter, subject: “Certificate for Enlisted Men, Aviation Accident”, WD, Hqs, AAF, dated 23 August 1944. [signed] Robert M. Hackney, Major Commanding [signed] Charles B. Watham Squadron Surgeon  Ang's 340th Bomb Group patch. There's not much to say here other than Ang flew his last mission on March 16, 1945, the day before his 24th birthday. A year earlier, on March 16, 1944 he was "Somewhere in South America" on his way to North Africa. After the doc handed Ang a bottle of V.O. and told him "Finito la guerre", Ang started the wait to return home. He manages to write a few letters telling Betty he is finished and talking about plans for his return. Then in one last Catch-22, he gets wrapped in the month-long possibility of a captaincy, the 340th Bomb Group move from Corsica to Italy, and typical Army "Hurry Up and Wait" rigamarole. Betty is still working in Los Angeles. She receives Ang's letter about Tom Cahill and she calls Tom's mother, but there's no indication she visits Mrs. Cahill again. Friday, March 16. Rainy again today. Feel alright now. Dashed home and changed clothes and to Scullys for dinner. What a mess! Late. THE LAST MISSION  Flight log. Mission 66. March 16, 1945. Form 5. Mar 16, ____ flight as navigator, B-25J, 4:30h [FROM ANG'S FLIGHT LOG. MISSION #66] #66. Mar. 16. Brixleg, Austria. No flak. Hit bridge. First time in Austria. FINITO [Link to mission report about this mission, which was the first into Austria for the bomb group. From the mission report: "Today was a gala occasion with the squadron flying it's first mission to Austria and it's first mission with special equipment (SHORAN). Both missions were highly successful. In Austria the bridge attacked was definitely hit, and the SHORAN blew the hell out of an ammo dump at Spillembergo. Smoke went up to 12,000 Feet. All in all a very satisfactory day." http://57thbombwing.com/340th_History/487th_History/missions/031645_Brixlegg.htm]  [Transcription from scrapbook page above.] #66 3/16/45 Brixleg, Austria RR Bridge. No flak. All boxes hit. First time in Austria---and about the longest mission yet. At very beginning I got fouled up and almost led group over La Spezia Harbor. Thank God the clouds opened up just in time. I almost passed out when I saw the damn harbor right in front of me. The rest of the mission went off well---no trouble finding the bridge. Very good results. _______________________________ Chattie called me over right after the mission. He handed me a bottle of V.O. and said "Finito Le Guerre". I guess he thought I'd had it. He sure was right. FINITO [Letter. Obviously misdated. Postmark 3/17] 2/16/45 Corsica Hi Darling: Start packing your bags and head for Chicago—your hubby is aheading that way right now—anyway in two-three weeks. If this letter sounds a little screwy—don’t mind because I’m half drunk—and on only three drinks. When I got out of the plane (my mind made up) I went to see the flight surgeon—and he said O.K. He handed me a bottle of “V.O.” and I took three quick ones. Of course my stomache was empty—and now my head is going in circles. It sure does feel good to be finished—in fact it feels wonderful—just think—no more flak. All I have to worry about now is the twelve oclock curfew in the states. I know I promised not to drink too much anymore—but this is a red letter day in our lives. I’ll get drunk enough for both of us—and then some. Please excuse this letter—but I had to let you know right away—I’ll give all the details tomorrow. Just pack and get to Chicago as soon as possible—within five weeks at the least. I love you darling—Love, Ang  Ang's misdated March 16, 1945 letter telling Betty he is finished. "FINITO" March 17 [Ang’s birthday] Had permanent in A.M. Mail from Ang! Met Mrs. Abel in evening—to radio show and Earl Carrall’s [Carroll’s?] home late. [Letter. Postmark 3-18] 3/17/45 Corsica Hello Hon: Happy birthday to me—and it sure is. All the details of my leaving are developing very nicely—and I might get off even sooner than I thought. If everything clicked just right—its possible I might be in Chicago 25 to 30 days from this date—however it will probably be closer to about a month and a half. At any rate, you ought to have plenty of time to get there if you make the earliest possible connections. Just one thing I want to get straight—I don’t want you to take a cattle car home—even if you have to wait a couple of extra days to get a Pullman. Believe me hon, you’ll have plenty of time—so don’t just rush straight out and grab the first thing that’s open. At the very minimum you have thirty days—so if you are home by the middle of next month you’ll be there in plenty of time. I’m sorry that its not possible to cable you—but these letters should give you plenty of warning. It certainly does feel good to be finished—it takes a weight off the chest. I don’t mind admitting that I’ve been sweating these last ones out—especially since Tom went down—that made it kind of close to home. Oh well, as I’ve said before—Damn the war and all it stands for. That may sound like I’m a little morbid—but I’m really not. On the contrary, I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. I didn’t get as drunk last night as I thought I was going to—just feeling good—and I mean good. After all it was the eve of my birthday and also the day I quit. Come to think of it—it was a very nice birthday present—wasn’t it? I’ve got another cluster to the air medal coming—but I’m going to tell them not to put me in for it. I’d probably get all tangled up like Arnie did and be around here for a couple of months. Seven clusters are enough anyway. I’m going to write the folks as soon as I finish this and lay down the law—in a nice way of course. I want to get it all straightened out—so there won’t be any argument when I get there—amen! Again I say don’t do too much to the house—because I’ll be darned if I’m going to spend very much time in that attic. That isn’t much of a place for a second honeymoon—not to my state of mind. You know what would be pretty nice—if we could rent a nice, small furnished apartment for about a month—especially if it was somewhere near the folks house. Ah well, we’ll see when I get there. Its either that or some hotel—probably the Chicagoan. I think I’ll pack some of the things I wont need for awhile and mail them home—[?] etc. Then I won’t have so much to carry with me. Talking about clothes—I sure am going to have to buy quite a few when I get home. Most of mine are in pretty bad shape. This is probably a heck of a letter, but all I can think of is home and you. I just walk around in a daze with a silly grin on my face. Ah well, such is love. I love you darling—Love, Ang March 18. To late Mass—lovely day. Wrote letters all day. Had a late dinner and listened to radio. Very lonesome day—sigh. To bed 11:00  8th OLC to Air Medal for February 28, 1945 mission. Dated March 18, 1945. I don’t think this was submitted or received. It is unsigned. His June 1945 “Information for Public Relations” lists 7 clusters. March 19. Marian in late—so did not work very hard all day. Shopped at noon and later too. Bad news from Ang—T Cahill MIA—feel awful. Bed 11:00 Form 5. Mar 19, ____ flight as navigator, B-25J, 1:00h [I assume this was a practice/training flight. I have no indication as to why he flew this and one more on the 25th. Perhaps helping out on regular training flights for others?] [Letter. Postmark 3-21] 3/19/45 Corsica Hello Darling: Sorry I didn’t write yesterday—but I just can’t think of a single thing to put down on paper. All I can think of is that I’m coming home and to you—which is plenty to think about——but doesn’t fill up much space on paper. One of the favorite sayings around here is that while one is flying missions his life belongs to the govt. and there is no sense thinking about it—but once the Doc says finito—then its his own and he’d better start planning on what to do with it. There is plenty of truth in that. While I was still flying, although I naturally thought of coming home a lot and what we’d do, it was rather abstract—somewhat like our plans of the future when we were in high school. But as soon as I knew I was finished—it was just like getting the wire from you telling me you were on the way to L.A. to marry me. If you get what I mean—one minute its all plans—and the next minute it slaps you in the face and is asking you what you are going to do about it. Don’t mind me if I sound a little excited—because I certainly am. Even though it will only be a short time before I leave here—it just doesn’t seem like I’m going to be able to stand it even for that long. I walk around all day with a blank look on my face—with nothing to do——and my thoughts thousands of miles to the east. I already have most of my stuff packed. For once in my life I’ve done a good job of packing—unfortunately—and I can’t even kill time by unpacking and packing it again. Its not as bad as all that—but I must admit time is sure dragging along while I’m waiting for my orders. I guess I best get down to more practical matters—although I can’t think of too many at the present time. First of all, I did write to the folks and lay down the law—I don’t think we’ll have too much trouble with them. I even hinted that we’d do some of our living at a hotel—just so they’d have some warning. Darling, what would you like to do—or where would you like to go on a “second” honeymoon. Start giving it some thought. Its just a little idea of mine—nothing definite. I’ve had about all I can stand of “scenery”, “quaintness” and “quietude” over here—so I don’t think any of the regular spots such as Niagra Falls would do. Perhaps it be best if we just stayed in little old Chicago—but took off for a couple of days all by ourselves—not even call or see any friends or relatives. We could rent a suite at one of the hotels—I could sure enjoy breakfast in bed—and bellhops who understand English. Then maybe we could rent a car so we could run around –take in shows—nightclubs—anything the curfew has left open. The more I think of the idea—the more I like it. Just act like newlyweds who have come to Chicago for a honeymoon—and don’t know a single person. Yippee! I love you darling—Love, Ang March 20. Called Mrs. Cahill today. Poor lady. A beautiful day. Wrote letters in evening. Bath and bed early.
 Ang and a jeep. I have no idea where this picture was taken, but I’m using it here because — well, it’s just so perfect with his stories about driving a jeep on trips to Ile Rousse and Bastia. I wish I knew how much of his story in his March 9th letter was true. When I shared it with Betty, she said, “Don’t believe everything you read.” Anyway, the letter provides a great example of his storytelling and is one of my favorites. In his letter, the story is that he went to help set up a squadron party on the other side of the island. He also tells stories in his scrapbook about trips to Ile Rousse and to Bastia. The 340th BG mentions a party at Ile Rousse in the March 1, 1945 entry so I wonder if that's the trip Ang is talking about. The postcards Ang sent are postmarked 3/16/45 so it's hard to tell if the trip he talks about was the same party or on the 7th as he indicates. In any case, it's great storytelling and it's funny, but it's also uncomfortable to read his descriptions of locals, especially women. (The scrapbook pages are at the end of this post.) Ang flies his 65th mission on March 13th and flies two practice missions on the 14th and 15th. Betty continues as usual with work and meetings and she does their income tax return. Her tonsils continue to cause problems. Her boss is trying to find a replacement for her. Friday, March 9. Worked hard again today. Sure am getting disgusted with place. Club meeting—so tired I didn’t take much part. Late. [Letter. Postmark 3-12] 3/9/45 Corsica Hello Honey: Well, I’ve been cossacking again—not very far—just to the other side of the island. They have a very nice hotel over there—and I went over to arrange a party for the squadron—which took place the night before last. It turned out to be a very nice party—not enough women as per usual (2 Red Cross gals and about 10 locals) but the music was good and the liquor and food wonderful. As you might guess, it was a very drunken squadron. However, it was the next day (yesterday) that really took the cake. Most of the boys left early and flew back. Four of us (the major, the squadron Doc., another character named Manns and myself) were going to stick around and drive home later. We went into the bar—locked the door—and several hours, dozens of dirty jokes and filthy songs later, we emerged on an unsuspecting island of Corsica—stewed stiff. Chatty (the doc.) decided he absolutely had to have a woman—so he took the jeep and went searching—so we went back to the bar. About an hour later he returned with a “woman” and somebody’s great grandfather. He must have been a great grandfather—because he was her father and and she was easily a grandmother—easily! After quite a bit of arguing—it was decided that I was the most sober—so I became the driver. About two miles out I hit a beautiful curve at 55 and the old geezer decide he wanted to walk—so we let him walk. After we got started again the major insisted we go faster and I was just drunk enough to do it so---! Well, I hit a curve at sixty—twisted the wheel—the damn thing wouldn’t twist enough—so we went into the ditch. It was a very deep ditch—only about four feet deep and full of rocks. anyway, I managed to keep the jeep in the middle of the ditch until I slowed up and then pulled out. A survey showed only one skinned nose and a few bruises. The old bag jumped out, pulled up her dress and proceeded to show us her bruises. God—now I know why I remain faithful. Imagine pulling up a dress and seeing something like that pop to view—ugh! At any rate she insisted that she wouldn’t ride with us anymore—so we bade her goodbye and watched her limp down the road. Then the argument started again—who was to drive? Again I was voted the most sober—and believe me, I have never been more sober in my whole life. That ditch made a Christian out of me—but good. We finally got loaded and started up the mountain road. Man, I wouldn’t go thru that trip again for a million dollars. The damn road winds around and around the mountains –and there is nothing at all on one side except a very big drop. We had to stop at practically every house for a drink for the other three (I told you I’d become a Christian)—and they were really getting drunk and playful. It was getting dark, and I tried to turn on the lights—but they wouldn’t work. There we were—no lights and still a long way to go. Manns said he’d fix it—and caused a short and almost burned the jeep up. Finally, after pulling most of the wires apart he got the lights working—so we all piled in again. However, he’d screwed something up because the ignition wouldn’t work. The major got mad at the jeep and decided to roll it over the cliff. By the time we talked him out of that notion—Manns had pulled more wires out and somehow or other got the infernal machine started—so off we went. I think that was the craziest ride I’ve ever had. There were several shorts—and so there were sparks flying all over the jeep. About half way up ever steep slope the engine would stop—and Manns would have to fiddle with the wiring again. Up and up we went—and in no time at all we were driving thru the clouds—and I mean just that. I could see easily ten feet ahead of me—easily! Finally we got to the top and started down and after about a half an hour we were out of the clouds. After that it was, comparatively, an unexciting ride down to the coast. Of course the boys were a little playful and insisted that we chase a cow down the road—orders are orders—so we did! And at one of our frequent “stops” we were almost murdered by a bunch of Frenchmen when the major tried to steal their dog. However, as I’ve said, it was unexciting—comparatively! When we got to the town on the coast, Chatty started insisting that he wanted a woman—so I had to drive him to one of his “friends” house. He went up and came down with two bags. One was old—and disgusting—the other was young—and disgusting! We finally got them packed in drove up to camp and up to the majors shack. By that time I was so cold, nervous and disgusted that I just grabbed the whiskey—had two quick ones—filled up a small water tumbler and staggered to my shack. I took off my clothes—climbed into my sack—drank the whiskey—relaxed and either passed out or else went to sleep remarkably quick. The moral of this story is that it’s a heck of a lot safer in an airplane that in a jeep—at least its less nerve racking. The boys that flew took 19 minutes—it took me nine hours. That, my darling, are my adventures of yesterday—and thank God something like that happens only once in a blue moon. I couldn’t take that twice in one life-time—God! I rarely make a promise—that is the last time I leave this camp until I come home—and until I come home I will not have more than three drinks in one day. Believe me, that ditch made a Christian out of me—I think I’ll even go to church this Sunday. The missions are child’s play compared that ride. As Bud said, with my luck I’m a cinch to die in bed—and that sure proved it. Please don’t worry about me sweetheart—I promise to be good from here on in. I love you darling—Love, Ang
March 10. Didn’t get up till late. Cleaned up and met Mom and Marian for lunch and “Life with Father”. Worked on Club books in evening. [Letter. Postmark 3-12] 3/10/45 Corsica Hi Honey: Now that I’ve given you all the details of my hair-raising ride—I can start commenting on some of your letters—and it seems I have quite a few to catch up on. First of all, I’m mighty glad that you’ve finally seen the doctor—and that everything seems to be O.K. I hope I didn’t give you the wrong idea—because I still don’t think we should have any children until after the war. The only reason I really wanted to to be examined is that its been on my mind for quite some time—and besides its really about time we had some medical advice. After all, we have been married for some time now. I’m well pleased with your report on what he said—all except the weight question. I don’t care what he says—102 lbs is dangerously low. However you’ve already stated that you planned to quit your job—and that’s the only advice I could give you. Just quit—and then take things easy until I get home—because I can promise you that you won’t gain any weight after I get there. I really am glad that Frankie got out to see you. I got his letter today and he seemed to have enjoyed himself an awful lot. I hope he doesn’t get into too much hot water over it—he certainly deserves a few extra days. Its too bad that Joe and Peg were separated—but I guess it was the smartest thing she could have done. I don’t think you are hard-hearted—I can see what you mean when I read her letters. By the way, I sent the check to the Silver Springs address they gave me—you’d better tell her so she can write them. Finally my procrastination policies have paid off. I had the Teddy Bear for Donny all wrapped and addressed to Silver Springs, Md—but I never sent it. Now I can readdress it to Chicago. Aren’t you proud of me—I’ll be you are! I’m so darn glad that Henthorn finally got to see you—I think I’d have gone hunting for him if he hadn’t. So you finally got some poop on me—I can just see you eating it all up—I’ll bet you drained poor George dry. He really is a swell kid, isn’t he? We really did make a good team—at least we had a lot of fun together—even on the missions. He certainly is a good pilot—and he sure could wheel and deal that plane around the sky. By the way—you never did say whether or not you approved my staying over a couple extra months for a Captaincy. From the tone of your letter in answer, however, you seemed rather cold to the idea. I’m still not sure, but I think I’m going to give it up. It kind of looks like I’m going to have to screw around a little longer than I expected to get it—and a Captaincy doesn’t mean that much to me. I’ll be sure in a couple more days, and then I’ll let you know for sure—and you can make some definite plans. I wish in your next letter you’d let me know how our bank account stands—just so I can have some idea of what to plan for when I hit the states. I think that idea of fixing up the upstairs rooms is a darn good idea. However don’t spend too much money on it (or don’t let the folks) because I plan on renting a suite downtown. That way we can spend a lot of time on our own—and yet when we are out at the house we can stay there some of the time. Just so you can have some idea about my plans—here they are. The first day we’ll spend a couple of hours with the folks—then head for a hotel room and hibernate. The second day we’ll go to your grandmothers late in the afternoon, and after visiting for a while, take them over to my house for a party—and any and all relatives that want to see me will have to be there—because that is absolutely the last party of that type that I plan to attend—amen! After that we’ll take things as they come—visiting some, but spending a lot of time all by ourselves—and that I mean in spite of all the relatives in the world. I’ll write all that to the folks—and let them know just exactly what my plans are—and in my cute little way let them know I am quite determined. That’s about all I can think of tonight darling—I mean about coming home and being alone with you—woof-woof! I love you honey—Love, Ang P.S. Please don’t let yesterday’s letter upset you—I’m sorry I sent it. I really do plan on being a very good boy until I get home—I didn’t even go to the group party last night. March 11. To late Mass—real nice brisk day. Did some telephoning and Income Tax in P.M. Home alone and wrote letters in evening. Bed 11:30. March 12. Didn’t work very hard today. Mr. L. going nuts trying to find a girl—ha! Wally R. on way home! Bath and bed by 11:00 March 13. Feel terrible—got off early and to doctor’s. To bed with medicine and felt a bit better. These darn tonsils!  Log book. March 13, 1945. Mission #65. Form 5. Mar 13, ____ flight as navigator, B-25J, 4:45h [FROM ANG'S FLIGHT LOG. MISSION #65.] #65. Mar. 13. Perca R/R Br. No flak. Hit over. 1st. Lt. Harbaugh R.M. Maj. Thabault 1st Lt. Allen D. [Link to mission report where it's reported, "Missions on both yesterday's and today's targets got by with practically no opposition from the enemy, but were somewhat bothered by clouds. Nevertheless, the TNT was neatly placed where it would do the most damage." http://57thbombwing.com/340th_History/487th_History/missions/031345_Perca.htm]  From Ang's scrapbook. Mission #65 Perca RR Bridge  From Ang's scrapbook. Mission #65 Perca RR Bridge: "Milk run---and do I love it. Can't understand why there was no flak---but who am I to kick. However, I guess the Col will be "PO-ed" at us---no flak and everybody missed the bridge. Just one of those things. I showed the bridge to Allen---he aimed but missed. I guess the other bombardier didn’t see it, because they hit way over into the town. I guess we lost a few more partisans." March 14. Girl in today—but she didn’t want the job! Rain—to bed again when I got home. Feel much better now. Late. Form 5. Mar 14, ____ flight as navigator, B-25J, 1:10h March 15. Throat is much better—doesn’t hurt at all. Out to Glendale for dinner. Very nice club there. Bed late. Form 5. Mar 15, ____ flight as navigator, B-25J, 1:25h [Letter. Postmark 3-16] 3/15/45 Corsica Hello Darling: I’ve neglected you for the last couple of days—sorry. I don’t know whats come over me lately—I guess its just laying around not doing anything. Well darling, I’ve made up my mind at last—I think! What I mean is that I’m going to fly one more mission (a milk run) in one of the next few days—and if nothing comes up before then I’m going to quit and head for home. It doesn’t look like that fellow is going to get his orders to go home for quite some time yet—and that leaves me out in the cold as far as that deal is concerned. They (the wheels) are really very nice to me. What I mean is that they want to get me a Captaincy—the Executive Officer told me to stick around and they’d fix me up—but I don’t like the sound of that “stick around” business. I’d have to stick around until there was an opening—and then work at the job for a couple of months before I could get a Captaincy—and that would probably be six months or better. I guess I’m just not ambitious—because I don’t think I would stick around that long for a majority. At any rate I’ll let you know for sure in two-three days—and I think the chances are I’ll be leaving for the states within a month. By the way, perhaps the reason Bud hasn’t written is because he is preparing to come home. In his last letter he said he was planning on it happening soon—and we have even made a few plans where we might come home together. The chances are we wont—but there is a possibility. It sure would be nice—wouldn’t it? I can just see the three of tearing around Chicago—wow! And now to discuss my roommate—Able. He is a great big brute (six-three or so) with the face of a baby. He is as affectionate and playful as a little bear—and his favorite way of greeting a person is to put his arms around him (the person) and playfully squeeze the breath out. I really do like him though—you can’t help liking him even if he does irritate me to death sometimes. I’ve done everything I can to help him—and I’m rather proud of him. He’s already checked out as a first pilot—and he’s starting to train to take over the lead someday. He was put in for his 1st yesterday. I think that gives you all the poop on him. While I’m at it I might as well get my other roommate described—Capt. D.B. Pray. He’s the S-2 officer for the squadron—and he’s from Milwaukee, Wis. He’s a little older than I am (30), but his ideas are a lot younger. He has dozens of ideas for making a million dollars—and insists that I will be his partner. He is a good kid though, and a very hard worker—who knows, maybe we will team up after this war is over. He’s so full of ideas—a few of them are bound to be good. By the way he has a wife and one child. So Tom has a mental disease—that certainly is too bad. However it can’t be anything too serious—at least I hope not. I certainly got a kick out of Jen’s letter—she certainly is a screw ball. Remember what I told you—don’t do anything too elaborate on the house—we won’t be spending that much time there. I love you darling—Love, Ang  From Ang's scrapbook. Story about Ile Rousse party. The little undated photo is labeled "Abel, Cooley, AA, & ?" The postcards are all from Ile Rousse. [Transcribed from scrapbook page above.] Ile Rousse Went up with Moyer and Davis as advance party to arrange Squadron party. Had a better time before party than during it — oh those “B-25s.” Mixture of B-25s 1 ounce Gin 1 ounce Brandy 1 ounce Red wine 1 ounce Soda. a little ice — mix well — drink and pass out 3 drinks and Cooley took off his clothes and ran around the hotel playing hard to get. The single female of the hotel (Red Cross Gal) didn’t want him — so we threw him in a tub of cold water and then put him to bed. Moyer had four drinks — automatically became a cave man. She didn’t like that either so I put him under the shower and then to bed. I had five drinks — didn’t even know there was a Red Cross Girl — didn’t take a shower — just passed out in bed Results of Crap Games: Cooley won $70.00 I won $110.00 Moyer won $480.00 Squadron went home broke.  From Ang's scrapbook. "Ride Home from Ile Rousse." Left postcard is "Piana - Route des Calanches" which is actually south of Ile Rousse, but gives an idea of the roads. The photo on right is "Bastia - Vieille Rue". It is postmarked 3/16/45. He didn't write much except to say how hard it is to write postcards. [Transcribed from scrapbook page above.]
RIDE HOME FROM ILE ROUSSE Major Hack was drunk, Chattie was drunk & Chi-Chi was drunk — and I had to drive them home. Chattie had pig and her father along — he insisted that he take them home with him. Everybody else flew home — they were smart. I hit one curve (see postcards) at 45 — and the Papa got nervous — so we let him walk. “Faster,” they cried — so faster I went. I hit a curve at 55 — slid into a ditch. Only damages were a scraped nose for Chi-Chi, a stiff neck for the major, and a bruised behind for the pig, which she insisted the Doc must examine. Goodness, don’t these people ever take a bath. Then the argument started. She wanted to walk and after the brief examination even Chattie didn't argue — so she walked. Hack wanted to drive; Chattie wanted to drive; Chi-Chi wanted to drive — so as a compromise, I drove. I guess the ditch didn’t help the jeep, because the lights went out — the motor conked out 2 or 3 times on each incline — and sparks flew out from under the hood (a short.) Near the top, the clouds closed in and we had to drive thru them for an hour. Every house is a bar, and so they had snorts all the way across the island (they wouldn’t let me drink.) At Bastia, I had to stop and let them pick up two more pigs — then drove them all to camp. The whole trip took nine hours — the boys that flew made it in 20 minutes. And people ask me why I went into the Air Corps! |
AuthorJoni Adams Sesma, daughter of Angelo and Elizabeth Adams. Ang served on Corsica with the 57th Bomb Wing, 340th Bomb Group, 486th Bomb Squadron. April 1944-April 1945. Archives
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