With Our Airmen

Auckland Star, Volume LXXV, Issue 213, 8 September 1944, Page 4

With Our Airmen

Excerpts Grave And Gay ■■ From Their Letters Home BRIEF, pithy tit-bits from letters will find a place here each Friday if addressed to "With Our Airmen," Auckland Star, P.O. Box 1409, Auckland, C.l. © TROPIC NIGHTS Plarry is relievi lg me at midnight, so I am going to wake him now. Tht last time I woke him I must have caught him in the middle of a dream, where he thought he was back at school. Just as I touched him he sat bolt upright in his bed and yelled at the top of his voice, "Has the bell gone yet?" Last night something the same happened. We were all woken tip at some unearthly hour of the morning with a most terrifying yell from someone a few tents from us. We found out next morning some chap had been sleeping on his hand and caused it to go numb. He was dreaming, too, that he had caught some wild animal in his bed. He woke with his yells, to find himself clutching his own hand. Such is life in the tropics.—Auckland Wireless Operator. © THE KIWIS I spoke with many American airmen who have returned from the South Pacific. Most of them had visited Auckland at some time or other and all expressed a desire to return to New Zealand after the war. They also had a lot of praise for the New Zealand fighter pilots in the Solomons. One chap who had been flying in Fortresses and Liberators said that the Kiwis were the best fighter escort they had. It was nice to hear that from somebody who should really know.—Sgt.-Pilot Lyall (Auckland). © IN OLD ENGLAND With all the beauty and heritage England enjoys, I would not hesitate to say that New Zealand is the only spot on earth. It is a blessed little country, with God's favour upon it, I sincerely trust. A land where each and all may share the goods that Providence supplies and Nature distributes. Nowhere else in the universe has the working man, and we are all workers, such a privilege. Here, where the money circulation, or distribution, is so onesided, where the rich become richer, and the workers live as did the generations before them, things which we at home consider so necessary are hard to obtain. Yes, the land is fair and beautiful, but the population has not time to appreciate it. The path to success and wealth in England is a long and hard one. The competition and the abilities of others have to be overcome if one wishes to have a little more than his fellow man. After! all, life is so short. Why should one work twice as hard for the things which are his prerogative and his right to expect? All should share in the country's benefits. 11 can't imagine England ever having a truly representative Government. Even the workers themselves consider their wealthier brothers more fitted than they for the care of their own interests. They don't want any more—they do not expect it. Truly a complacency good to a nation at war, but perilous to an Empire's progress.—W. J. Murphy (Mount Albert). @ ALL OVER THE SKY Our compass went all to hell, and we came over an enemy wasp nest. Before we knew where we were, we were in a cone of blue and white searchlights. Then the flak started. Thousands of red, white and blue tracer bullets whizjing past. I put my parachute between my legs, ready for anything to happen. Our pilot acted like a veteran—threw the plane all over the sky—but it was no use, they stuck to us like glue. For several minutes (hours it seemed to us) we were in the flak, and thanked our lucky stars when we eventually escaped.—Warrant-Officer Keith Guest (Auckland). © EVENING IN SUNBURST The road seemed deserted from Milk River, and it was about 8.30 when we got to Sunburst, a small American town about ten miles south of the line. During that stage of the trip I damaged my left foot, so we decided to rest up for the night and have it dressed. Sunburst is a rail centre for surrounding oilfields, and, although a minute town, its folks were most sociable and we spent a gay evening with the majority of the populace in the local beer parlour.—L.A.C. W.E.J.D. (Auckland). © IN THE ROCKIES As darkness didn't set in till about 11.30 p.m. we were fortunate enough to see the best part of the Rockies. They are a most amazing height, and our train was like some insignificant worm, snaking its way round glaciers, fast-flowing rivers and beautiful lakes. Every now and then some pretty little village, very Swiss-like in architecture, would flash by; little places of heaven, nestling in the mountains. Occasionally we would stop at some such hamlet, and have a chance to see the old Indian settlers living in perfect peace with the whites. I will never forget the glorious colour reflected off the snow-capped ranges as the sun finally set—rainbows pale away. Next morning we were still moun-tain-bound, but getting nearer the other side. We passed such beauty spots as Lake Louise and finally Banff. Then National Park, where bison, deer, bears and other wild life roam unmolested. At, last we left them' all behind, and commenced roaming the prairie. The prairie is far from flat. Actually it is rolling country, very like Taranaki and parts of the Hawke's Bay, only we missed the distant bush-clad hills. And now I must away and prepare for a "weaner roast." This is where a crowd of ,chaps meet a crowd of. girls, go to a pleasant spot, light a fire, and roast these "weaners" (which are very much like our miniature saveloys), and, with bread rolls, mustard and a cup of tea, it makes a very pleasant evening.— N.Z. 4214888. © MONTREAL THE BEAUTIFUL. Montreal seems to take a delight in notices or "avis"—everything has to be printed twice in French and English so that the "avis" are twice as big. Everywhere is "Defense de stationner." "Defense de fumer.. de cracher," Soyez avertis" and dozens of others of a similar forbidding nature. There are many shrines, churches, crosses and other religious buildings, usually set in very beautiful grounds. In fact all I have yet seen of the city has been pretty and fresh, though I am told there are extensive slum areas—and bad ones, too. —8.8., writing from Canada. • NIGHT LIFE Bars and nightclubs in New York never close. We all sat round a bar on the famous Broadway and drank Martinis and highballs on the house. That's what the "N.Z." on our shoulder does for *is.—Sergeant-Pilot J Doug. _ *