World War II Letters of Veale F. Moriarty okumak kayıt olmadan

World War II Letters of Veale F. Moriarty

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He waits at the foot of the gangplank for his name to be called. Shipping out. Twenty- four hours earlier, word came down that he would be restricted to the post. Dressed out in full field equipment (with the new carbine), he grabbed his Val-pack before he was transported to this covered pier in the dead of night. Red Cross ladies in smart blue uniforms pass out doughnuts and coffee while the men embark. He waits in the dark, sipping black coffee, reflecting on his situation. He had seen the best his country had to offer -- just before leaving it. Ten days earlier, on leave in New York City, he went to night clubs and attended the theater. He saw the Ziegfeld Follies, a revival of a 1907 hit The Merry Widow, and a contemporary take on the Pygmalion myth, One Touch of Venus with Mary Martin. A six-dollar dinner at the Astor Hotel and drinks at the Stork Club, the Copacabana, and the Versailles Club rounded out the evenings. The floor show at the Diamond Horseshoe beat all the others: they had six-foot beauties. Will there be WACS on the boat, he wonders? A man sitting behind a desk mispronounces his family name by wrenching it into the frame of a more familiar-sounding word. “Mortuary. Moratory. Majority.”“Moriarty. Veale F.” He pronounces the old Irish surname “vale” as did his great grandmother, Johanna Veale. “A-4” the man says and gives him a card. Veale shoulders his Valpak and makes his way up the gangplank, struggling through the shell door before he’s directed to his cabin in a neat passage way. In a room the size of his mother’s kitchen, bunks stacked three high against walls close in on him. There are eight hooks to hang gear in a room with nine bunks. Last man in, he sets his gear on the floor. The green deck linoleum, grey paneled metal walls, and the lavatory under the mirror underscore the reality of this boat trip. It’s the wrong boat for WACS. It is 1944. He is twenty-five years old, and he is going to war. Veale F. Moriarty crossed the English Channel after D-Day and fought in France, Belgium, the Netherlands, and Germany. He was awarded the Iron Cross and the French Croix de Guerre. Once a week he wrote to his mother, Muno, in Jacksonville, Florida. As he traveled across Europe, he found pets and girlfriends until the day he met his future wife, the French woman Andrée Boziére, in Paris. She asked him to look after her dog. "Muno," he wrote, "Do you know how to make puppies eat?"

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Palala Press 18,9 x 0,3 x 24,6 cm Wentworth Press Nabu Press 28 Şubat 2018 15,6 x 0,2 x 23,4 cm 18,9 x 0,2 x 24,6 cm Kolektif 1 Haziran 2018 Anonymous 26 Ağustos 2016 27 Ekim 2012 HardPress Publishing 15,6 x 0,6 x 23,4 cm 1 x 13,5 x 21 cm 4 Ocak 2017 18,9 x 2,3 x 24,6 cm 31 Ağustos 2012

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