Verhovayak Lapja, 1943. július-december (26. évfolyam, 26-53. szám)
1943-08-12 / 33. szám
rage 0 THE MAIL BOA North Africa, May 10, 1943. Dear Verhovay Readers: I could start this letter by making all kinds of puns on how I shadowed the “Shadow” and finally uncovered his lair; but I am definitely “unpunny” today. Therefore, I start with but a brief prelude, the punless story on how I, despite strict mail censorship, limited time, and no substantial facts to go on, did brilliantly discover the locality, habitation and body, (alive and more or less kicking), of one Sergeant John J. Jerkovich. I attribute my success in finding him to the literature I have been reading of late, which incidentally, will leave a lasting influence on my life. The only reading material I have been able to get my hands on is that disgusting element of modern literature known as the “Mystery Novel”. In finding “Long John” I employed the tactics of no less honorable personages of Scotland Yard than “Mr. Reggie”, “M. Hercule Poirot!’, and “Mr. Pinkerton”; and their equally notorious contemporaries of America, “Perry Mason”, “Ellery Queen” and “Charlie Chan”. From constant recourse to these illustrious and noble followers of justice, I developed marvelous deductive powers, a phenomenal memory, and a flair for discovering the remotest and most minute clue. Thus it was that when I received a letter from the good “Sahgint”, and a day later one from his fiancee, I started exercising these newly-developed powers in an effort to find just where in North Africa this “Elongated Three-Striper” was stationed, and whether I would be able to look him up. • Verily, with the barest of clues and my knowledge of the locality gained through my itineraries over North Africa I surmised that he could not be far away, and said to myself: "Egad, 'Jerky’ must be but a •stone’s throw’ from here.” True, a “Stone’s Throw” in North Africa covereth a multitude of miles, but what is a “Stone’s Throw”, or even a multitude of miles between friends? It was only yesterday that our outfit got a call to employ a number of trucks with accompanying drivers to move the ,.. th Squadron to a certain air base some miles away. I was chosen as one of the drivers, and having completed my mission I was instructed by the convoy commander to return alone. But the thought struck me suddenly: “Perchance, this is the air base where “Jerky” is stationed” So I made inquiries and learned much to my delight, that he was stationed here. I came upon his outfit, just as the mail was being given out, and found that he was calling it. After “Mail Call” was over, I snuck up to him and asked: "Is there any mail for "Dirk”? Without turning, he answered: "No” in a rather bored voice, (as if he had heard the question a thousand times). It was a full two minutes before he caught on. When it finally dawned on him, he turned and grasped my hand and said: *W«U, l’U be a a * —” I never did learn what he was going to be; but was not interested at the time. The next two hours went by so quickly I didn’t realize it, and had to make a hasty departure, promising to return, etc. When I returned to my own base I came upon the Convoy Commander tearing his hair out by the roots, and muttering to himself and showing other signs of extreme agitation. Well, he proceeded to give me the merriest heck I have experienced in a long time. As a soldier, John impressed me because although he works in his Squadron Orderly room, he is not an “Orderly Room Dude” that goes around in OD’s and shined shoes; but wears the fatigue uniform like a regular “G I Joe.” As a .man? Well, ask Miss Ann V. Biro. And that is how I solved the mystery which could be entitled, “Where is Sergeant Jerkovich?” Quick, Watson, the needle. Fraternally and Sincerely, JOHN “DIRK” PHILLIPS.---------------V--------------July 20, 1943 U. S. S. Essex. Dear Verhovay Readers: Received the Verhovay Journals from the Home Office and very glad to get them. I would like to write more interesting letters, but at the present time it can not be. Recently, I had a few hours liberty and went into town, and while there, I became slightly influenced by more potent fluid then Pepsi-Cola. Upon awakening the next morning I experienced a sensation that is commonly known among the middle-class (also, the lower and upper class), as a “hang-over”. After an agony-filled morning I made a vow never to touch the stuff again — until next time. Oh, what suffering! I’ll stick to cokes and milk for a while. Well, I’m feeling swell now, so won’t continue with the subject. I don’t remember whether or not I ever mentioned I am a great lover of good books. Yesterday, while browsing around in the library, came across the book entitled “The Bedside Esquire” — strictly a gentleman’s book; but of course, it is quite obvious that members of the weaker sex (or shall I say fair sex?) are also reading it and finding it very amusing and educational. I’ve about finished it and recommend it to everyone for a bit of swell reading. I presume you are all doing your share of reading too; well, you can’t beat it, it’s one way for me to pass my time. Otherwise, the hours would drag into infinity. At the present time I have approximately nine letters to write and really don’t know how I’ll do it. They will all be on the same subject, the same monotonous grind. I imagine my handwriting is disgusting; I could try to write better — something like this for instance: “NOW IS THE TIME, ETC., ETC. But that takes too • long for me to put down and I forget what the next word should be. I’d like to write the words down as fast as they come to mind, but then they V erhovayak Lapja august 12, 1943 would be very hard to read. It’s easy for anyone who uses a typewriter — for no matter how fast they type I can always read the letter. Speaking of restaurants — the waiters and waitresses are so snobbish. Years ago, the slogan was “The customer is always right.” But now they’ll tell you that if you don’t like the food, or the service, or the price, well, you can scram. They can always get more customers, but the hired help is hard to find at the present; so the employers treat their help like lords. That is the situation here. But don’t ask me where “here” is. Well, I’m glad of one thing; and that is it won’t last forever. Isn’t my handwriting too terrible for words? Or for anything, in fact. It’s horrible to be truthful. I’ll have to study the Palmer method, and soon. The army food is fine, no complaints. Besides, a man’s got to eat. No, it doesn’t come half way in comparison with home cooking, but sometimes, I wish I were a vegetarian. Not so long ago I 'ordered a steak and after a terrific struggle with it, I managed to eat it with the help of the Lord. The meat was so tough and springy thy I called it a “galloping steak” because I really had to administer the coup d’grace to it; but the waitress only laughed and charged full price for it. After that experience I’ll never order another one of those animate d-bovine-choice-c u t s again. If I do, I’ll go prepared for the ordeal — with a lasso — and six-shooter, and a few hired hands to help. I can just picture you readers as you read the “adventures with a lively steak” and kind of smirking. Maybe, it is a little far-fetched and exaggerated, but I’ve got something there and you must admit it. Not so long ago, I received a mythical “luck” of London malarky. It stated that I should copy same and send it to five different persons and have a good chance of winning some hard cash to boot. Naturally, I threw it away, because, in the first place, nobody is throwing around good hard cash without some catch to it; and I for one, didn’t fall for it. But it is surprising to learn the number of gullible persons in this world who do. You’ll have to put up with this drivel for a few more minutes — if by now you haven’t started to pull out your hair and foaming at the mouth. I assure you, I will positively end this letter on this sheet, so stick with me; if you can stand reading my letters you can stand almost anything else in this topsy-turvy world. Time runs out, so I’ll gently, oh, so gently, lay down my pen, stretch my weary arm, flex my biceps, inhale deeply, light up a cigarette and sit back to give the letter the once over — any mistakes found will be (-x*) dam it! killed. Well, as we say: Au Rcvoix - Adios. Keep smiling. Best of everything to all of you. Fraternally and Sincerely, PAUL KUN. BUY WAR BONDS North Africa June 20th, 1943 Mr. JOSEPH DARAGO Pres. Verhovay F. I. Assn. 900 Standard Life Bldg. Pittsburgh, Penna. Dear Mr. Darago: I won’t apologize for my penmanship, the stationary or the fact that I can’t tell you where exactly in North Africa I am stationed. Having to use my knees for a writing desk, you can readily see why my penmanship takes on the aspect of Arabic hieroglyphics; and perhaps my association with Arabs has something to do with it also. There is a stationary shortage .here, and the War Department frowns upon any effort on my part to disclose my whereabouts to anyone back home. Our work here is in the Transportational line. Specifically, we operate and maintain cargotrucks and are an integral part of the all-important supply line. The supply-line without which any operation whether carried on by Infantry, Armored units or aerial, is lost. Our work has carried us to many parts of North-west Africa and during the campaign our trucks saw service in the Kasserine Sector; and since then we’ve been to most of the large cities in North Africa. Now our work has settled down to the dull drab routine of hauling over the same rough roads, subsistence and every kind of cargo necessary for the up-keep of the combat outfit to which we are now attached. Scientists tell us that mankind, ir order to survive individually, has but six necessities. Shelter is one of these; the government provides the other five, so I omit them. Since we provide our own shelter, it may be interesting to know how we do this with practically no material to do it with. We have hired Arabs to dig large holes for us in the ground. Their salary is twenty francs a day; which at the current rate of exchange is forty cents in American currency. The holes average the following dimensions: length, 14’ ft., width, 10 ft., depth 6 ft For a roof we build a wooden frame over which we stretch the tarpaulin from a truck, or shingle it with tin secured from the inside of fragmentation bomb boxes. Steps are dug in the earth down to our subterrenean dwellings. The walls are hung with fine Oriental burlap. Straw mats woven by the natives here separate us from the cold hard ground. The doorway is covered with burlap. We build bunks out of any kind of wood available including small treetrunks. The spring of the bed is usually made of chicken wire. We have stoves, which up until lately, have been put to good use at night and in the early morning. For fuel we burn used oil whose flow into the stove via copper tubing, is regulated by a spigot on the can which holds the fuel. I hope that gives you a rough idea how our homes are built. Some of the fellows use the fin from a 500 lb. bomb to support their stoves and an 88 m. m. shell makes a handy ashtray. Incidentally, we have a generator and therefore have electric lights in our huts. Fragment bomb boxes make good foot lockers. We have built our own shower here and haul water in from town every day and if the water truck or trailer is busy there is another truck on base on which is mounted a gas tank from a wrecked airplane which holds water in that also. Once in a while we get fresh meat but most of the time it is canned stew, hash, weiners or “Spam”. With the accent on the last one. They are “spamming” us to death. Well, I guess it’s time for you to play chess with Mr. Bencze; or is it 5 o’clock already? Anyway, I’d better quit, as I’ve written quite a bit for one time. My best regards to Mrs. Darago and the Home Office force. Hoping this finds you in as good health as my own, I remain, Sincerely and Fraternally, '*! JOHN “DIRK” PHILLIPS. FRATERNALISM PROTECTION With faith in the future of fraternalism Verhovay has a system of protection to the welfare of its members. Verhovay is conservative and assures sound investments of its funds and securities. The fraternal spirit of Verhovay encourages social movements wit...n and among its branches, thereby, bringing about a closer fellowship between its members. Verhovay certificates are attractive, with Life insurance for the whole family, and certificates to meet the needs of its members. For over fifty-five years members have enjoyed uninterrupted and successful protection. VERHOVAY FRATERNAL INSURANCE 345 Fourth Avenue Pittsburgh, Penna. ASSOCIATION PROGRESS STABILITY
