By Sgt. Samuel W. Taylor
Aside from technological advances, one of the greatest benefits of this war is the broadening influence on the men. The GIs will return from the far corners of the world with a cosmopolitan outlook—deepened, mellowed by experience in foreign lands. No man will ever be quite the same after a visit to the ETO. Not after mild and bitter.
The broadening influences can be seen in any chance encounter between a couple of world-weary GIs.
“Yeah, I was in the South Pacific a year," the sergeant says over a bottle of coke in the Columbia Club. "It was hot, and it rained like hell. Boy, what mud!”
“Just like Ireland,” the corporal says, "except it was cold and muddy and rained like hell. How was the liquor down there?"
"So was ours. The dolls was mostly red-heads in Ireland. Some pretty cute tricks."
“They was black in the Pacific. But there was some pretty cute ones at that, and they got whiter the longer you stayed. Then I went to Africa. It rained like hell."
“You're telling me. I was in Africa. Boy; what mud."
"Was you ever in Big-Bosomed Bertha's joint in Oran?"
"Yeah. The liquor was terrible. Some pretty cute dolls. I was in Sicily, too."
"Me, too. It rained like hell. And, mud! But some pretty cute dolls."
"I picked up a nice little dish in a joint in Catania. It was called Scarface Al Capone's joint by the GIs."
"Yeah. His liquor was lousy. Then I went to Italy. It rained like hell, and mud eight inches deep. But the dolls was cute. Was you ever in Baldy's joint in Naples?"
"Yeah. His liquor was lousy. When you going to Normandy?"
"Pretty soon, I hope. I'd like to see that country. The dolls are cute, they say. But it rains like hell and the mud's terrible."
“And they say the liquor's lousy. But anywhere to get out of England."
"You said it, Mac. It rains like hell here, and the mud's awful."
"And what they do to their liquor shouldn't be done to a dog. I'll sure be glad to get back home."
"Me, too. But I sure hope it don't rain like it did the day we left Camp Shanks. Boy, was the mud awful!"
"And I suppose if there's any liquor at all left there it sure as hell will be lousy."
"But there's no cuter dolls, pal."
"Nope, there's no cuter dolls."
YANK 20 Aug 1944 British Edition