Thursday, 03 May 2012 18:24

The Saga of Flak Haven

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Flak Haven is no kin to Flak Alley, but if you were in on the construction of our local GIN MILL you might have suspected otherwise.

It all began in a harmless sort of way when Major Jenkins gathered his clan about him in the shade of "Ye Olde Apple Orchard" and said, "Chillun, what do you think of the idea of constructing a Rec Hall for the amusement of all the lads and (with a gleam in his eye) possibly a few lasses?" Well, when he said lasses, the deal was cinched and now all we had to do was build it. It is surprising how dexterous some of the local talent suddenly became, and strangely enough they were all volunteers. The special orders issued forth the following day.

What comes now, we thought? Why, a material section of course. ..as any fool can plainly see.. .Lt. Swanson saw it. "Canvas:’ said the Major; "Lumber:’ said the Captain; "Nails:’ said the 1st; "WOMEN:’ said Swanson. Why shucks, that’s easy. . .well. . .wasn’t it? All we had to do was tear down a Jerry barracks, denude operations of their top cover, pull nails out of a couple of thousand ammo boxes and be kind to the visiting nurses association.

Where there’s a will there’s a way, and as soon as we got the WILLS out of their sacks, the job began. Key men in industry have nothing on us. What with Lts. Russell, Ziegeweid and Pelletier doing the keynoting, and Captain Mohrle wielding the cat-o’nine-tails, the club really began to shape up. . . and what a shape. Everybody had a plan of attack, but only those select few who were blessed with a healthy set of tonsils had theirs accepted.

As official post hole digger, this correspondent really got in on the ground work. Needless to mention, we had a staff of hole enlargers for misplaced posts so it’s perfectly obvious that our organization was efficient, or was it?

Now comes the superstructure and if Orson Wells ever had a nightmare, this was it. Being non-union, of course we were severely handicapped by the absence of a board stretcher, and it took some ingenious planning when boards came too short to nail. But we remained undaunted and at last that sweet day came. Yes, this was it! For most structures a corner stone is laid, but not so with us. . .WE raised the ROOF! In fact that event has become a tradition and we have figuratively raised the roof many times since. So be it. Shall we continue?

Interior decorating is a profession which requires exquisite taste in every respect. What could be more exquisite than pin-ups by Varga—and I challenge anyone to find a more appreciative audience. A little adept scavenging provided what we affectionately call furniture and merely by squatting four hours on a dinghy or spending a night in a French Bastille, you too can enjoy some good solid comfort at "Flak Haven on Hornet Bog:’ Many thanks to the gentleman who first coined the term "Snack Bar." It provides a very subtle approach to a subject very dear to Lt. Koslow’s heart. Roger you are, he’s from New York and there they call them Gin Mills, by way of explanation. Call it what you may, we are really proud of our bar. Lt. Swanson (better known as the Robust Swede), being a connoisseur of bar fronts, was naturally elected under one of those special order numbers to put out with the murals. He did a bang up job and his cartoons provided many a hearty laugh. Could there be any significance in the fact that the bar was constructed without forced labor?

When you say "Officers’ Club:’ synonymously you think of dues. Hats off to the boys who spend our money. No telling where Lt. Kelly finds the gout remedy but who cares, and as long as Lt. Stith employs the iron boot we shall continue with our monthly blood donations. In about as much time as it takes to say "Jenkins Jerry Junkers" a hundred times you’ve had the story. The Orchids Department is especially grateful to S/Sgt. Trank for so generously contributing his time and talent to the painting of our Squadron Roster and Honor Roll.

No one can deny the success of our venture but we will regret giving it up when we move. Gosh, why all the sobs. . .we started a good thing at ABA and gangway for more of the same. Unquote.

And now, if you’re still with us, how ‘bout taking in the last act of the show. . . an elaboration on the parties (we call them parties very broad-mindedly) the squadron has put on, as written by Lt. A. O. Swanson. Here we go....

It’s only fair to say a bit about the parties held in the new Officers’ Club. In plain words they have been humdingers, and most any of the 5l0th’s officers will testify likewise. As the dates of the different shin-digs have been forgotten and also that the author was missing on a couple. . .we’ll just take it all as one and hit the highlights.

Our first party was a tryout more or less and somewhat of a primer for the others coming. It gave the club officers a chance to see how things would work out and also see what kind of effect Doc Milligan’s "Kickapoo" had on the fair sex. Not only that, but the great lovers of the squadron got back in shape and tried out their new lines. Need we mention names? Heck, no!

Somehow there always seemed to be nurses and to that end I believe Doc deserves a lot of credit, but once the ball got rolling everyone had his hand in it. Some of the gals are a little battle beaten but swell sports. (I understand that several served with Teddy Roosevelt in Cuba.) One fault, if you please. Those leggings. . . but things could have been worse. Captain Appel will vouch for that wholeheartedly.

Each party went off just a little better than the one before. The food was better than Ritz Carlton caliber and each party found the drinks stronger. If there were any unwanted guests they always seemed to get a double ration of "Kickapoo" and they disappeared early in the evening. Just a plain old "Mickey".

Lts. Zeigeweid and Kelly scoured the countryside for meat, mostly cow steaks, but here and there a little horse just for flavor.

Mustn’t forget the party with all the Red Cross and USO girls. Pretty nice stuff, to put it in a crude way.

It is impossible to give credit to certain individuals for the successes of our parties. All worked like beavers and the results were certainly worthwhile. Also some of the enlisted men for working in the kitchen.

The last brawl went off almost to a "T". Everything ran smoothly and the steak sandwiches and doughnuts really clicked. May I take time out to kick in a plug? Weren’t those the best damned doughnuts you’ve ever eaten?

We hope that at our new field we can get set up to carry on (he’s not kidding) like we have here. I think everyone has a mutual feeling about it too, when it gets organized. More nurses and stronger "kickapoo". How to make the "Kickapoo" stronger is no problem to Lt. Zeigeweid. At the second party we lost a large can of it and two days later Lt. Knight found it in his Armament section. The armorers were using it to clean the rust out of the gun barrels.

There is plenty more to be said about our parties but perhaps we can add a little from time to time and especially after we get to our new base. So we’ll draw this little bit of things and stuff to a close and look forward to "Bigger and Better Parties for Everyone." Finis.

So we think it apropos to say here and now, that as they say in Jolly Old England. . ."you’ve had it."

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