Verhovayak Lapja, 1943. július-december (26. évfolyam, 26-53. szám)
1943-09-09 / 37. szám
September 9, 1943 Verhovayak Lapja Page 5 given 15 ambulances to the American Army; we have volunteered to furnish hundred thousand pints of blood for our fighting men; we have made national drives for the support of the first and second War Loans and right now we are making extensive preparations for the Third War Loan Drive. Our total contribution to the present is more than 20 million dollars. But above all we are satisfied to know that we did all this out of loyalty to and love of the country which became our fatherland. . Mr. Secretary! We confidently hope that our record, and not the unjust accusations will determine the continued attitude of our Government toward us. In the name of the American Hungarian Federation Dr. BÉLA SZAPPANYOS Mr. JOHN DEZSŐ, National President President of the Board Dr. TIBOR KEREKES, Executive Secretary. Hews from India Editor's Note: Here follows the third installment of an interesting letter written by Staff Sergeant Arpad S. Chontos to Stephen Huzianyi, member of Chicago Branch 503. Sergeant Chontos is serving Uncle Sam with the India-China Wing, Air Transport Command, somewhere in India. Somewhere1 in India (As though WHERE made any difference) June 26, 1943. INSTALLMENT III. We would like to become better acquainted with these people, mere or less to try to understand their ways, but we have neither the time nor the opportunity. We work seven days a week, and the villages are out of bounds. It may be that we will return to the United States knowing no more about India than you. We hear the drums beating at night, particularly on Saturday nights, keeping time as they all sing their tuneless chants. At times it is mure spirited than usual, when they probably have drunk “junglepam,” a vicious native liquor. Sometimes this group singing continues throughout the night. As a matter of fact these natives seem to be up and about all hours of the night, walking about, or sitting on their porches in groups, smoking and talking, just as much at 3:00 A. M. as at high noon. These people could show a thing or two to our self-styled “night-owis.” Coincidentally, I too love to dawdle into the small hours, reading and writing. The peace and quiet at this time is ineffably soothing to the nerves. Has it not occurred to you what a wonderful thing it would be if the day contained 30 hours, with the exha time put into the night? However, things being what they are, we must pay the price for keeping irregular hours, and get up next morning bleary-eyed and feeling as weak as the survivor of a 30 day session in a rubber raft. Even as I write this, it is rather late, and I am probably keeping some of the pilots upstairs awake with my typing. The frogs are croaking outside, and when they stop the jackals will take up with their howling for a while. An interesting thing about these creatures is that fifteen or twenty of them will begin yowling at precisely the same instant. I wonder if one of them gets up in front of the pack, maestro-like, and gives them the down-beat w’ih his paw. Your faithful zoologist further begs to report that Nature has dealt with a lavish hand in this part of the country. Ordinary eartnwoi-ms are 18 inches long, and this place is full of centipedes, lizards and the like. Our guards have seen a tiger stalking in the vicinity but have never been able to get a shot at it. Tame elephants are used nearby for heavy work with lumber. I recall one night several months ago when several natives came to our Office through a driving rain to report that some of these elephants had gone on a rampage and killed several men, and they wanted us to go out hunting for the animals to shoot them. Needless to say we did no such foolhardy thing — not with .30 caliber rifles! I never heard anything furthér about the matter. I think that what had really happened, some of the Indians had been drinking and started to agitate the beasts. (Continued in next issue). The institution of insurance is the most extensive cooperative movement devised by man. Verhovay Branch 372 — (Continued from last issue) There we were — midnight — tired and sleeppy and standing a roll call; as if any of us had the notion to go AWOL — when every man Jack of us was dead tired and would have liked nothing better than to get into a tent and flop down on a cot and drop into a restful sleep. After the roll call was over with, he instructed us to pick out our tent — six men to a tent. Upon dismissal we scattered, each man looking for a tent. I hurried to the next street, which I later learned was F Street, and chose a tent not far from the corporal’s Orderly tent. Two other boys joined me. We turned» on the lights and set about making our beds. When we had finished making our beds and undressed and turned out the light it was exactly 1:00 A.M. Before I fell asleep I kept thinking of the hectic hours, beginning at 4:30 A.M. from Camp Perry, Ohio to the present moment that I laid down between the blankets; and I thought of the revielle that we would have to stand the coming morning at 5:00 A. M., with first call at 4:45 A. M. As I lay there I inwardly cursed the non-com’s stupid blunderings, his foolish act of holding a roll call at midnight and hoped that something would happen to the C. Q. so that he would be unable to awaken uá at 4:45 A. M. with his whistle. With these thoughts running through my mind, yours truly fell into a sweet slumber; and don’t think I was the only one with these thoughts, because there was exactly 199 others with the same thought. At 4:45 A. M. we were awakened by the shrill harsh blasts of the C. Q.’s whistle. On that early chill Sunday dawn we all rolled out of bed sleepily, and hurriedly donning our trousers, shirts and foot-wear, we waited our turn at the latrine to wash up; then hurried back to our tent and made up our beds, swept up and mopped our tent flooring. Then falling out to the street, in formation, the roll was called. When it was over with at 5:15 A. M. we were told to fall out at 6:00 A. M. for chow call, before being dismissed. Then we returned to our tents to “sweat” out chow call at 5:45 A. M. Those who wished to, laid on their bunks to get a little more sleep. 6:00 A. M. came and the whistle was sounded by our Corporal for the chow formation. All fell out and we were marched off to the Squadron Mess Hall. After waiting our turn we finished with our breakfast and returned to our tents. We went about writing letters to our families and friends, informing them of our new station. 1 had been writing up until about 9:00 A. M., when again that infernal whistle was sounded by that Corporal. We all hurried out to the formation and were marched off by the Corporal up to the Orderly Rooms. The acting First Sgt. came out and informed us that we were to participate in the Review to be held on that Easter Sunday afternoon right after dinner; that we were to fall out at 1:00 P. M., with shoes shined, etc. Then we were marched back toward Tent City, and upon reaching our area, we were dismissed until chow time! In the meantime, I finished up my letters. After we had eaten chow at noon, we hurried back to our tents and set about to shine our shoes and brushing off our uniforms. At 1:00 P. M. we fell out for the review and marched out to the main street. We stopped on one side of the street and waited till the other outfits marched toward the Para'de Grounds. We stood there until 3:30 P. M., when it was our turn to move off; and believe me, we were all bored and weary; the sun was beating down on us and to make matters worse, we had been ordered to wear our blouses (coats to you readers), which seemed to us rookies a foolish order by the Col. in command of the Post. At 3:30 P. M. we moved off toward the Parade Gx-ounds and it was 4:00 P. M. when we arrived there. There were 10,000 of us in the troops who participated in that Review in honor of the Governor of Missouri and the Col. At 5:00 P. M. we all stood retreat, after which we were marched off to our respective areas and dismissed until the time for chow formation at 6:00 P. M. After chow, at 8:30 P. M., I crawled wearily into bed, after my first hectic day at Jefferson Barracks, of all things on an Easter Sunday, and I wished a thousand times over during that afternoon that I was at home, enjoying a fine serene Easter Holiday. With that thought in mind I fell fast asleep until the morning. Morning came, with Revielle. We ate our breakfast and were marched up to the Orderly Room. The First Sgt. came out and announced to us the schedule for the day, also for the rest of the week for our processing period. That Monday morning and afternoon was spent marching over practically the whole Post for lectures, movies on Militai’y courtesy, discipline, etc., health talks, and movies on the Articles of War and sundry other things; it went on like that for the rest of the week. It began to rain on Tuesday and kept on raining intermittently up to Friday. We certainly felt miserable during those three days, as we marched in the rain for more lectures, to the school for our tests to leai'n what we would be suitable for in the Air Corps. I remember the Wednesday morning when we were conducted to the Post Hospital in the rain, for the typing and classification of our blood. When we reached the hospital, partly wet and cold, we waited in line for our turn to have our blood typed. We began to banter about the blood classifying; some of the boys began to tease the other fellows, who seemed to be upset by what was to take place when their turn came. The boys who had been in to have their blood typed, came out. One of the boys asked: “How was it?” The other boy was a jokester; he grinned and seeing that some of the boys in the line were uneasy about the whole thing, replied: “Oh! it wasn’t anything at all! They just get a big long needle, as long as your arm, and shove it in at your fingertip right up to your elbow.” On hearing this one of the boys, who was growing more scared by the minute, almost fainted over. But some of the boys supported him by holding his arms and walked him out to the fresh air to regain his strength and consciousness. But that wasn’t all the humor that took place that time. Some of the boys who were ahead of us, came out holding on to their finger, holding a particle of cotton to stop their finger bleeding from the pin-prick. They were asked by those waiting their turn as to what type blood they found they had. They replied, telling us what type their blood was. A fellow Lorainite, Myron M ..., who was in back of me, asked: “I wonder what type my blood will be found in?” I knew pretty well at the Plant in Lorain that he was very fond, in fact, extraordinary fond of his liquor at home. I replied to his question: “I can guess what type your blood is, Myron.” He asked: “What * do you guess it’ll be — A or AB?” I replied, jokingly: “Neither! It will be Four Roses!” With such banterings we were able to forget our discomfort and the miserable weather. Saturday came, the final day of our processing, and the schedule called for taking three (3) “shots” — one against Typhoid, one on Tetanus and the other on Yellow Fever. When the afternoon came that I was to get those “shots” I remembered my experience at Camp Perry; and with a firm resolution I steeled myself to take all three “shots” without blinking an eye. I took the shots without any trouble; but I did see about four of the boys who passed out from the effects of the shots. During the evening of the same day the ambulance was busy from about 6:00 P. M. until Sunday noon, carting away the boys to the hospital; some passed out in their tents, some were stricken with the chills and fever; but nothing like that happened to yours truly. At Sunday morning revielle we were told to fall out Monday morning in our fatigues to begin our 18-day course in Close Order Drill. After we were dismissed and before the time for chow, we had a nice Sunday off, without having to hear the Corporal’s whistle. We spent the day \yriting our letters and strolling about the Post and going over to the P. X. for refresments and putting nickels in the “Juke-Box” — listening to the popular recordings. So until the next issue when I will continue my narrative, I bid all of you a fond farewell with by best wishes and regards. Fraternally, Sgt. John V. Jerkovich. BUY WAR BONDS /
