Dear Folks:

Back home, safe and sound after a thrilling, exciting and inspirational tour of air bases in England, France and Germany. I loved flying! If I could always be sure an airplane was in as capable hands as the three crews we came to know on our tour I would never hesitate to fly! I must admit, when Gen. Carpenter first projected this tour, the flying part of it kept my enthusiasm a bit dampened. But with our will brought up to date, I said to myself, "Jim and I have had a wonderful time in life and if we go down we go down together and have died having a great adventure. If we live we will have added one more good memories." We have the memories.

Where to start on my story, I hardly know. At the beginning, I suppose. Back in November Major Gen. Charles I. Carpenter, Chief of Air Force Chaplains, contacted Jim regarding sending 30 members of the Boston University Combined Glee Clubs on a tour of Air Force bases in Germany during the Lenten Season (our Spring Vacation period). They would go under the Cultural Leadership Project sponsored by the U.S. Air Force under the personal direction of Lt. Gen. Lauris Norstad, Commander-in-Chief of the Allied Air Forces in Central Europe and Major Gen. Charles I. Carpenter, Chief of Air Force Chaplains. Last year, under the same Cultural Leadership project we had toured the Air Force bases along the Atlantic Seaboard and all concerned were happy over the venture. Gen. Carpenter wanted to carry the same type of program to our boys located overseas. To make a long story short, President Case of Boston University extended the one week vacation to two weeks for the Glee Clubs which made it possible to set up the tour English, French, and German bases.

There followed a period of much work and excitement. Out of 110 men and women, 30 had to be chosen. No small task! Then came inoculations for typhoid, tetanus, small pox, and diptheria. Being past 35, Jim and I had escaped the diphtheria inoculations which was all right with me as the ones I had laid me low the first round. I stood them all right thereafter. I went in very bravely, for in 1930 when we were over, I had no ill effects whatsoever from the shots. Time changes things, I guess.

Anyway, at last the day of departure, March 13th, arrived – a sunny day for a change. We had Convocation in the morning and at one o'clock boarded the bus for Westover Field where we would finish the processing ritual and give a concert in the evening before taking off the next morning. Every one was bright and shining but with winter clothes on as we were warned England and Germany would be having March weather. Were we happy with our winter clothes!

The processing ritual is quite a process, especially for thirty - passports with birth certificates to be gotten and that has its hazards. At the last minute, one girl almost lost out as her application for a passport had gone to Washington, with her name given two ways without an accompanying explanatory note. In time, it was proved she was one and the same person. Another student had no one here who had known him the length of time necessary to serve as a voucher for him. One birth was not registered and a notarized statement from parents had to be gotten.

But as last passports, immunizations and AGO cards were intact, and we really started our two weeks experience on Air bases by having our first mess hall meal, giving our first concert and going to be in the transit hotel at Westover Field in Massachusetts.

Snow had blown in in the afternoon and we all wondered what this would do to our flight schedule but the next morning the face of the sun was out again even if not very effective. We were scheduled to leave at nine o'clock an the morning of March 14th.

There was still much to do before we were actually ready to go. Baggage had to have an identification slip on it and had to be checked onto the plane. Were we happy Lt. Col. Schaffer, who had travelled with us last year, had come up the night before to see us off, for many things can go wrong with the best laid plans and a civilian is lost in the strange land of protocol and procedures in which the military move. To Col. Schaffer all is an open book and nothing ruffles his calm and kindness. By his aid our baggage did not go to Frankford, Germany, but to Burtonwood, England as scheduled.

At last nine o'clock came and we boarded a Constellation - a beautiful ship! What an introduction to flying! And how happy we were, for after all we had twenty-eight youngsters, Jim and I making the thirty, new to flying; new to the experience of being out from under the protecting Stars and Stripes and putting an ocean between them and home! A wonderful set-up for air-sickness. But with such a crew and such a ship, youngsters had no time to remember the anxious mothers and fathers at home or at the field below. Even the girl who in her excitement, couldn't find her pocketbook her admitting slip to the plan and had burst into nervous tears, was calm and contented.

Pepsi, Gen. Marshall's favorite [F]ilippino cook on board was wonderful for morale. He at once began entertaining the group with some of his most exciting experiences, passing the "safety cups" around and soon passing doughnuts and coffee. When he learned one boy was having his nineteenth birthday, in came a doughnut on a tray with a candle and "Happy Birthday" filled the pressurized ship.

The crew let it be known we had the run of the ship within limits. "Please not too many at a time in the lounge room in the tail of the ship as that can materially slow down the ship and don't all go up front at once." We all found very soon why pilots and co-pilots love to fly. What a world of ocean, land or clouds they have spread out before, around, below and above them! And at night with the moon and stars! Or when lightning makes merry around the nose of the ship! What a Universe!

Twelve o'clock already! Down we came at Harmon Air base at Stephenville, Newfoundland. We had an hour and a half here for the refueling of the plane. We were ready for a good lunch in spite of coffee and doughnuts on the plane. The group sang some of their songs for those present in the station and I had my first visit with a G.I., lonely and longing for the day when he can go home and resume normal living. We got out first taste of how much our program was going to mean to our boys on the bases so far from home.

Harmon is an isolated base and those passing through supply the same interest the mail train does to a small mid-west town, as it stops and drops off a passenger.

One-thirty p.m. we were in the air again and out over the Atlantic for Burtonwood, England where we arrived at 4:30 a.m. their time and 11:30 our time — 14 1/2 hours in the air. In 1930 we were thirteen days crossing from New York  to Hamburg.

We parted from our wonderful crew, the other interesting passengers and the Constellation and entered the small English Customs office where we declared our money and hand our introduction to English comforts as we huddles around a pot-bellied, reluctant stove. Before too long we were asleep in the transit hotel on the base and the 10 o'clock rising time for briefing came entirely too soon.

This is the largest supply base in England. Small English farms and houses are dotted through the base area and this is said to have helped camouflage it from the Germans. Anyway, although Liverpool, a few miles away, was bomed badly, this base was not hit. We were shown a small building where women and children from the country were packed in and existed during the heavy bombing. What incredible stories one hears of man's endurance and perseverance during incredibly hard times—families moving out into the open country every night on foot and back to homes in the day times or living for weeks with no comforts in subways and shelters.

We were taken for a tour of the base after a delicious meal—and may I say here, we had good food and plenty of it on all bases and we ate in mess halls as well as officers' clubs. First thing some of our boys were craving on arrival was milk and I had warned them that they might not be able to satisfy this craving but how mistaken I was! There was all the milk they wanted, especially at Burtonwood. A few places we had dried milk and not at all bad. We were warned not to drink milk anywhere in England expect on bases as little is done in the way of pasteurizing milk or testing the cows. T. B. and bacterial count is very high. So our boys enjoyed it while they could.

After our tour of the base we still had time before supper and were given a tour of Liverpool. For the first time we saw the results of bombing. It was not to be our last for we had tours in London, Berlin, Munich, etc. ahead of us. Aside from human values, what this age has done to destroy treasures of the centuries!

Our group was thrilled with the tour of Liverpool with its historic sights but I think they were most taken with the people carrying bouquets of flowers home from market. Sightseeing was help up while pictures of children, especially boys, carrying flowers were taken. Imagine our boys walking along with a much of carnations, tulips, or what-not!

The picture that held us up the longest was the result of one of our girls taking a shot of a much patched little urchin going along with a home-made wooden sword at this side. As soon as she released him off he scurried and before  we know it he was back with a half dozen buddies all wanting their pictures taken and eager for gum. From all directions the urchins came and how they posed! They knelt and sat and crouched and make sure every face wound be in the picture!

We did not get down to the docks which I was eager to see. It is "off limits" to our soldiers as trouble is brewing if they are seen. Communist activity is said to be very strong in this section. Military personnel is docked at Southampton and brought up to Burtonwood by train to avoid the possibility of trouble from docking at Liverpool.

Burtonwood is the big hospital base also, and expectant mothers from other bases in England come here for delivery. Our transit hotel housed many of them and their small children. However, some of the women were especially anxious to be through the ordeal for their husbands were taking their furloughs and caring for the children in the mothers' absence. Quite a dislocation of American home life and these women do a magnificent job of carrying on under what would be primitive conditions to most women at home. English toilets are something to experience. Fifteen minutes' effort doesn't always produce sufficient water from the poorly pressured systems.

We were happy to have no scheduled concert for the evening as we were tired when we started the tour and the plane trip does have a tension with it and practically no one more than "cat naps". Sunday made up for the day off as the Catholic members of the group want to the 10 o'clock Mass with Chaplain Cuttras in charge–a friend of last year from Westover Field. The whole group participated in the 11 o'clock Protestant service, with Chaplain John K. Brown in charge.

In the afternoon the group sang in a mess hall to the ambulatory hospital patients and then on the wards for the bed ridden. The group really caught the sense of their mission. From here on they begin accumulating messages to deliver to fathers, mothers, sweethearts, as soon as they returned to the United States. The home town of each Glee Club member was listed by name on the program and boys within a fifty-mile radius of the town named gathered around for home news and it was amazing how many had friends in common.

Mrs. Brown and I were standing in the ward hall listening to the music when a wife emerged from one of the private rooms very much excited. She wanted Chaplain Brown and the docker to come. Her husband, who had not raised his leg since an operation, in his excitement over the singing had raised it. We all went in and he demonstrated his accomplishment again and wanted the doctor to come.

I had a most interesting visit with them. He is located at an isolated jet base. His  wife lives off base and is frankly bored with her existence. He has busied himself organizing baseball teams, etc., in off hours and said that while lying here he had been planning on organizing a glee club on his base when he got back. He formerly sang in a glee club. That was why his strong reaction when the singing started. He was more determined than ever to undertake this venture when he returned to base even though his wife felt he already spent all his spare time directing activities of various kinds.

Pvt. 1st Class John H. Clay, the negro base organist, implored my husband to see what he could do about getting male chorus music to be used on the Burtonwood base, so a base chorus could be developed. He had tried to locate such music himself and had been urging such a project for some time. He had it all planned out—section rehearsals over the base with combined rehearsal once a week—or month, whatever could be worked out. He hoped we wouldn't forget him on our return to the States. He felt such a project would keep some of the boys on the base out of trouble. He was so earnest and persistent through the day that Jim enquired about hum from Chaplain Brown who wholeheartedly put his stamp of approval on the boy. Jim hopes he can help out for he believes this type of project would be a wonderful thing for any base.

The night we gave our full program in a recreation hall which was packed. They stood along the side and back walls and they stood for the entire program. The group received the first of the many great ovations they were to receive on the tour. Any concern that a primarily religious music program would not a success on our Air Force bases was eliminated.

Brigadier Gen. and Mrs. Robert C. Oliver were most happy over the program and generous in their appreciation. They were sorry we were to leave so early in the morning but most anxious to do all possible that our group should see as much of England—her beauty, culture, history—as possible.

Gen. Oliver made special arrangements for the wonderful PX [Post Exchange] at Burtonwood to be opened early the next morning so our group could get a bit of time at least, to shop in it and the Gen. and his wife were both present to aid in any way they could in helping all of us take advantage of the opportunity. What is thirty minutes in such a PX with such silver, china, figurines, sweaters, etc.! Amazing how much we did manage to buy before pulling off.

Chaplain (Maj.) Horace A. Guiler, who was to escort us through England joined us a Burtonwood Sunday night. He really understood our mission and meaning and was a perfect escort officer. He was an excellent liaison officer with the various bases; co-operated with my husband in a marvelous way and was a favorite with our group who hated to part company with him when we left England.

He saw we moved on time; arrived on time; but saw all things possible between bases. Airmen's lunch boxes were put up for us so we could eat as we went and save time. On the way to Brize Norton we made a rest stop at an old English tavern with its old sour beer smell. We were happy our group had a chance to see this typical institution in English life.

Stratford-on-Avon and Ann[e] Hathaway's cottage lay between Burtonwood and Brize Norton, our second stop. We fed the swans and enjoyed the rivier but couldn't get in the theatre as a rehearsal was in progress. The extra time available at Ann[e] Hathaway's cottage made up for it. The gardeners were uncovering the flower beds, birds were singing, there was light enough for pictures of this picturesque home with its lovely thatched roof. The hostess on duty with her wonderfull sense of humor and to us, quaint English phrases, completed the charm of the palce. The rigors of Shakespeare's days were indelibly brought out here with the old courting bench hard beds, low ceilings, primitive household utensils, wooden dishes and table tops which you just turn upside down and use the other side for the next course. Simple housekeeping!

Brize Norton was a lovely, spacious base and we had a wonderful reception there both as to hospitality and audience. Here Alan Snelgrove met his Waterloo. A lovely child of five or so was being enjoyed by some of our group. She had lovely eyes and Alan said, "Where did you get your lovely eyes?" and she replied, "God gave them to me." Whereupon Alan said, "God was good to you, wasn't he?" She answered, "He was good to you, too." Alan's blue eyes became bluer with the blush. All agreed she would have no trouble, protocol or no.

The concert was in a charming recreation hall which I found by stumbling through the dark along various roads, following various lights until I hailed a G.I. in the darkness who set me on the right course. I was separated from our group because after supper I had taken our first casualty to see the vase doctor—Dr. Marshall. As soon as we hit Burtonwood we came into deep chest colds and much coughing we feared we would get it into our group. Various members did get touches of colds but the medical men on each base were right at our service and prevented serious trouble.

I forgot all about the time in the visit with the doctor who is a "recall" into service. His wife and four children are still in the United States. He has a three-and-a-half month old baby whom he hasn't seen. He was homesick. English G.I.'s were having a time getting their mail for some reason and Dr. Marshall was a wonderful example of what mail means to those away from home, and what its failure to arrive means. He said if he could start his day with mail from home, the day went swiftly and happily and life seemed good but it was demoralizing to go day after day without it. He said he had had his lesson and if he ever got home he had made is resolves is to how he would keep letters going to his friends.

This base commander Col. Oscar B. Steeley and Capt. Joseph E. Thinville Special Service Officer—and their wives sat with us at the social hour after the concert and were very enthusiastic over the program. Neither could think of our leaving Europe without visiting Garmish and Bertergarten in Germany. Col. Steeley put through a call to Col. Bailey, a personal friend of his, to see if arrangement couldn't be made for us to take the trip up the Rhine on Hitler's yacht the day following our last concert at Wiesbaden. However, the boats do not run until May so that was out but we had a bus trip as far as the "Watch on the Rhine" and for me that was even better for we had had the Rhine trip. This bus trip took us through the most ancient and medieval towns I've ever seen. At no place in Germany had we seen such a charming out-of-this-world sort of villages; narrow streets with houses right on the road; open gates revealing small, ancient courtyards and unbelievably primitive living conditions: a church with the first organ; a charming old monastery, with sheep on the hillside; brooks and charming courtyards and heatless, stone dormitories—a monastery never destroyed or molested so retaining all its original features.

But back to England and on to Upper Hayford. But first, by arrangement of Col. Steeley, a visit to Blenholm Castle, the home of the Duke of Marlboro and birthplace of Churchill. It is near Oxford—a lovely 340 room palace with sweeping terraces, fountains, rolling pastures and hills. Since this palace is being lived in it is even nicer to see for it is not quite so museum-like, although it has all the treasures of a museum. Family pictures and a picture of Queen Elizabeth were around the drawing room.

We had a few hours with a guide to go through typical colleges of Oxford—a quaint town which was all college until a few years ago when an automobile factory started up and brought in its workers. One would surely need real flannels to live and study on those old monastery buildlings. I'd love to see this spot in real Spring.

Spring was starting in England; crocus and mock cherry trees were in blossom; rolling pastures were green and, for us, she provided nice weather—no fog in London even. Marsgate had gotten it instead. If we had had centrally heated houses, we would have felt England was quite Springlike for March—much ahead of what we had left at home, but oh, these scantily heated English places!

In Oxford, we had out first tussle with English money—tuppence, thruppence, "ha-crown", shilling, bob, pence, etc. Harry and Joe, returning to the bus with Oxford caps and scarfs, were besieged with "How much did you pay?" Joe shrugged and thrusting out his open hand said, "I said 'take it'". That was about what we all did even when it was only buying post cards.

We went to Upper Heyford, a rapidly expanding new base, for our concert. Facilities here are pretty meager. The recreation room was above a mess hell and the last place I would have gone for cheer and comfort. A recreation set-up is in the plans, but still to come. A very fine hostess helps out with situation.

Our concert was on the ground floor in the mess hall. Again the concert was most generously received and the boys flocked around for visiting. Just before our bus pulled away for Oxford where we were to be housed in English hotels for the night, a [J]eep came tearing up bringing a boy to see Robert Kingston from Salem. This boy had been up for maneuvers and was in the barracks showers when some of the boys returned from the concert with a program. He saw someone from Salem was in the group and all his homesickness came to the fore for he hasn't been home for three years. His buddies rustled up a car while he got into his clothes and they rushed him to the bus in time for him to have a visit with Robert before we pulled out. The boy's need for contact with home was probably Robert's most moving experience.

It was wonderful to get the experience of being in a real English hotel. The boys were divided between two hotels but we were housed with the girls in the Castle Hotel. A nice couple ran the hotel and did all they could to make us comfortable. The rooms were cold but shillings put in the little electric heaters in the wall helped that. The hot water tank had gone the day before so no hot water for the girls. Fortunately, we had a small individual heater poised above the wash bowl in our room and despite the distance between the two, the water reached the bowl warm. One little half-hearted toilet served two floors and was that closet cold!

We had very good coffee for breakfast with rolls with ham and eggs! The hotel keeper explained eggs were coming in rather plentifully just then so extra were available. We were told hotels and not families benefitted by any surplus of eggs. The English rations are very strict from all reports—reports are all we had, of course. We are told potatoes are served three ways, boiled, French fried, and pan-fried, to make a meal seem more plentiful. We experienced this at the swanky hotel at Margate.

The next day, March 19th we headed for [Manston] Air Field at Marsgate, England., which is on the North Sea—south east corner of England. We had a lovely ride through the rolling pasture land of England with their flocks of chubby English sheep and into London where we had dinner at Park House. This is a very nice home for airmen and their families who are passing through London.

Then began our lovely drive through the Kent country—the apple-growing part of England. The road is a narrow, winding road with old stone walls, lovely, woodsy, ground covering and interesting shrubbery and trees along the sides. One passes through charming village after charming village but we all lost our hearts to Canterbury. We were not scheduled for a stop here but who could pass this spot with its marvelously preserved old wall and moat and beautiful cathedral dating back to King Ethelbert, Norman Conquerors, St. Augustine! So we parked the bus and took a quick walk through the narrow archway into the small peaceful courtyard from which the beautful cathedral rises. Even song was being sung—a sheltered spot of beauty wiping out man's turbulent, restless world!

No fog in London but Margate made up for it. We were entertained in the beautiful Grand Hotel with its wonderful bedrooms with luxurious private baths. Waiters in full dress served us in a mirrored dining room. We were told this was a famous resort spot and the next morning when the fog lifted we understood, for long stretches of beautiful beaches were spread before us.

[Manston] Air base is some distance from the hotel. The men here are constantly on alert. There were not very adequate facilities for social get-togethers but the gall was good for music. Here we met our first audience that was a bit restless and inclined a bit to rowdyness. As usual, I sat in the audience and I heard comments such as[,] "[w]hy don't they sing 'Dixie'", "I'd like some good old American songs". As usual, I struck up a conversation by asking the boys around me where they were from and how long they had been here. I also asked if they really would like to sing "Dixie", etc. They told me most of the boys here were from the Carolinas, Georgia and Louisiana. Later I learned only about half were from that part of the U.S.A. Anyway, during a longer than usual intermission, again the call for "Dixie" arose. Again, I asked those near me if they would really like to sing and on getting an affirmative answer I went back stage to carry the suggestion to Jim. There I found one of the girls had fainted and had just been taken to the hospital.

Well, before the last group of numbers, Jim asked the boys if they would like a bit of community singing and a surge of approval went up. He opened the sing by his story of the four Americans who Russianized their names before traveling through Russia after the First World War. One who liked his drink changed his name to A-cask-o-whisky; the pugilist changed his to Knock-a-block-off; the bald headed one changed his to Hair-all-off; and the one who had gotten a case of cooties in the trenches changed his to Ivan-awful-itch.

Well, he had the boys! One called from the audience, "[t]hat fellow is in our barracks now." For half an hour they sang old favorites including "My Old Kentucky Home", "Home on the Range", etc. And how they sang! They were content and gave perfect attention to the last group with rousing applause for "The Halleluka Chorus". A few R.A.F. flyers attended this concert and when they passed me I understood the call for "Merry Old England" during the sing period.

On this base, I saw a baby in the Air Force. A little, thin Welsh lad who didn't look over fourteen but who said he was seventeen. He was in the R.A.F. uniform. He was a friendly little lad, a bit different to understand with his broad Welsh accent. One wanted to send him home to his mother.

Early the next day we started for Mildenhall near Cambridge, for our last concert on England. We passed through the east side of London, through great bombed areas; through peaceful Epping forest with its old beech and oak trees, rabbits and pheasants and up to Cambridge where we took a short time to sight-see. Cambridge University isn't as old as Oxford. The buildings are a bit more graceful. It was a sunny day—just right for wandering through the lovely University courtyards; narrow streets into unexpected little nooks of superb beauty; through the market-place with its loads of flowers. Rooks were busy about to the roofs and chimneys. The stores were closed for the afternoon so no change to use English money here.

Mildenhall is a rapidly expanding jet base, therefore facilities and accomodations for the boys are not up to some of the other bases but we had a wonderful time here. Everyone was most friendly. The hostess, Miss Nelson, from Plymouth, England, was most gracious—a real addition to a base.

We girls were housed on the top floor, "Pent House", of the Officers' Club. There were three room filled with army cots and one wash room with scanty facilities which wanted to stop working twenty-five years ago. I was in the room named "Passion Pit"—rather bare and cheerless for such an exotic name. A bit of contrast to Marsgate.

We sang here in a mess hall. The back part of the room was curtained off as meals are served here twenty-four hours a day as men are coming in and going out on flights at all hours. A fine looking boy back of me was very concerned for fear our group might be "booed" off the stage or have insults hurled at them. He need not have worried for we had a wonderfully appreciative and attentive audience. Just before the concert began, two boys came in and sat down beside me. As soon as Jim appeared, one boy began exclaiming, "I know him!" "You should hear him sing!" "You should hear his high notes!" "I wonder if he is going to sing," etc, etc. I couldn't resist asking where he had heard hum and it was at McGuire Air base in New Jersey, when the group was on tour last year.

If he really wished to have Jim sing, I offered to introduce him to our Chaplain sitting two rows back who could pass the request on to Jim. "Oh, no! All these fellows will look at me." His buddy was not abashed by this, though, and made the request of Chaplain Guiler.

Before the last group Jim announced he was going to sing "Old Man River" and the boys were delighted. They demanded an encore. He came back with "The Holy City". Oh! Oh! I thought. A religious program, all right! But I wonder if "The Holy City" is what the want for an encore? They raised the roof and at least a dozen men said to me "'Old Man River' was great, but 'The Holy City' was wonderful!

If the Chaplain's program with its emphasis on the religious and the cultural values needed justification it certainly got it on this tour. On every base the boys gave us the closest attention and great ovations and with the social hour following each concert we received such comments as: "this is the finest thing that has come to this base"; "This is something you can sink your teeth into"; etc., etc.

March 21st saw us headed for London for our day off for sight-seeing. It was noon before we arrived and got settled in the beautifully clean Lawns Hotel in Edgerton Gardens made sunshiney by its soft yellow paint. Good wall heaters soon warmed our rooms after shillings were deposited.

After a delicious lunch, Miss Miller from Special Services arrived with a bus to show us as much of London as could be shown in a few hours and it is surprising how much one can really with a bus and a good guide—Hype Park with its tradition of allowing all and sundry to get on a soap box and expound his thesis whatever it may be; Buckingham Palace, Clarence House, Pi[c]cadilly and Trafalgar Squares; a wonderful guide who managed in a short time to whet our appetite with his highlights of St. Margaret's Chapel, the old Monastery and Westminster Abbey. The Tower of London was closed for the day when we arrived—a disappointment, for history in all its tragedy was made here. Queens languished, patriots suffered, traitors died. Hess was housed here.

For our farewell party in England, Special Services arranged for us to have supper at the Chelsea Penssioner, a most charming little restaurant with excellent food. Chaplain Guiler brought his wife and little son in to meet and have supper with us—a lovely ending to a fascinating week.

At breakfast, we met the crew which was to be with us for the next week as we travelled "bucket seat" in a C119—not at all comfortable. But what difference if the seats weren't all comfor when you would walk most of the distance over France and Germany as you peered out the porthole windows or from the crew's vantage point in your eagerness to miss nothing! And what a crew they proved to be! Not only were they experts in handling their ship but they became loyal rooters for our group.

We left England from Bovington Air Field where we met and sang for Chaplain (Lt. Col.) Leroy R. Priest, who had not been able to get to any of the concerts. After going through English customs and saying an unwilling goodby to Chaplain Guiler, we headed for Orly Field, France! There was a bit of trouble getting the landing gear down do we circled the field three times but came in for a perfect landing and had no need of the ambulance or fire fighting equipment there to meet us. One of our girls, however, could not take the third turn and had to use the "safety cup".

We had hoped to have the afternoon in Paris but Chaplain (Col.) Taylor and Lt. Reed of Special Services met us with the announcement that we were to sing at two o'clock for a French audience in the Chateau at Fontainebleau which was forty miles away. We grabbed a hamburg[er] and a cup of coffee and started on the trip to Fontainebleau. We kept passing clusters of gendarmes and on inquiry we learned a Communist demonstration was expected against the Americans so the precautions. A G.I. truck had accidentally killed a Frenchman a few days before and the Communists were using the incident to increase trouble.

Quic different from England were the villages we passed through—stone houses set right on the road—of stark and unrelieved by trees or shrubs. Fontainebleau was a pleasant, tree and shrub softened town of quaint charm. We drew up into the stone courtyard of the Chateua to find nervous people anxiously wondering if we would arrive on time. With relief they scurried us through the gateway into the inner courtyard and into the big stone hall where the group was to sing. There was no heat in the room but a large audience waited our concert and gave us a most hearty ovation. The universal language of music crossed the barriers of the spoken language.

Following the concert we were given a tour of this famous Chateau with Napoleon's throne room, quarters of Marie Antoinette and vast and many ballrooms. A teacher of English in the local college had a group of his students with him and did a beautiful job of translating the French guides' interesting stories to us. It was quite a task he undertook and we were sorry his request to be allowed to bring more English students to the evening concert couldn't be granted. But the evening concert was on the base and due to local Communist activities certain precautions had to be observed.

We were quartered in a lovely French hotel with a charming inner courtyard. We were served our supper in a beautiful dining room with black iron small brackets supporting lights against chalk white walls. Soup was served from beautiful copper tureens.

In spite of the lovely surroundings we discovered some of our party got little sleep for at the social hour following the concert the G.I.'s had done a good job of dressing up the tales of Communist activities for our gullible youth with the result that locked windows did not keep out nightmares or rioting crowds with flaming torches. This in spite of the fact that just before supper a little French girl arrived with an arm load of gorgeous pink carnations, a "thank you" gift to our group from her mother who had attended the afternoon concert.

Again we found wonderful cooperation from the base commander and the medical officers for a bit of trouble with colds continued to haunt us.

The next day, March 19th, we flew to Rhein Main, Germany to begin a week of unforgettable experiences. This is a huge base and very nice and comfortable. We were given a wonderful reception here and Captain Hortense Myers, the Special Service Officer, had everything planned for our comfort. I, personally, had a wonderful time with her and I wish mothers of boys on that base could know what a fine, warm, wholesome personality she has, and of her efforts to help the boys in their various adjustments.

With a young German for a guide, we were taken for a tour of Frankfurt and its ruins, and visited the restored home of Goethe, the furnishings of which were stored in salt mines during the war. The home is surrounded by rubble heaps. The complex emotional situations always present on the Continent was typed for me on this tour for the driver of the bus was a Hollander who went without sleep or rest for four days during the bombing of Rotterdam and who told me on the side, "In thirty minutes 30,000 people were killed in Rotterdam and our city laid waste and we were told to surrender or Amsterdam and the Hague would receive the same treatment."

In the evening we gave our concert in a beautiful base [c]hapel to an enthusiastic audience after which we had a social hour in the very fine social rooms this base afford. One hostess has been instrumental in getting beautiful birds in glass cages housed in naturalistic settings and huge fish aquariums for these rooms. Very homey.

On this base there were many thinking seriously of the coming election evaluation America's place in the world picture and in general being alive American citizens.

The girls were housed at Soden Baden, a hilltop town several miles from the base. The [h]otel was lovely with wide halls and sweeping staircases. Lovely bedrooms which made it difficult to get started back to the base by seven in the morning, but that was the schedule., for we were to fly to Berlin, and an afternoon concert as well as an evening was scheduled. Col. Becker, the Chaplain who was to be with us on the rest of our tour, joined us here. It was with great anticipation that we all set off for Berlin. Our crew was excited, also, for the first time the C119 was being flown into Berlin and they knew the Russians would be interested in the plane. Also, some of the crew had not been to Berlin since they were over in bombing squadrons.

Flying the Corridor is exciting and the crew must stay in the straight and narrow path if they are not to become targets and they keep constantly in touch with ground bases. Three M[i]Gs rose from this airfield as we passed over. On the return trip the radio was repeatedly jammed so our crew had a hard time getting their messages through.

Special Services met us at the huge airport with a "Welcome to Berlin" banner. Here we met Chaplain Deutschlander of Cleveland who was to be of so much aid to us not only in Berlin but in Weisbaden where he is stationed. He has a long history of service in Germany. As a civilian he worked here during the air-lift days. So he was a source of great information and Jim and I felt specially privileged to have had the opportunity of touring Berlin with him and having him give us first-hand knowledge of conditions in Germany as a whole, but in Berlin in particular.

For the first time we learned one of the major duties of the air lift was to bring coal into Berlin to keep the sewer pumps working. Because of Berlin's swampy situation, a failure of the pumps would have brought impossible conditions in Berlin and sickness epidemics. As we looked out over that airfield and were shown how those planes came in and took off at the rate of one every minute and a half day in day out for nine months or so, one knows man can perform miracles.

We also learned that daily Germans come from the Soviet Sector into the Allied Sector of Berlin. They come at the rate of 300 a day. They come with nothing, many just ahead of the police. The Soviets do not object to this for if they can swamp the Allied sector economically they feel they may succeed in getting all of Berlin by default. Chaplain Deutschlander feels Berlin has a two-fold value. To lose it would be an announcement of the weakness of the Allies. Also, it is the big break in the iron curtain the Soviets would like to close. Through it we are getting valuable information as to situations in the Soviet Zone.

We were entertained at the Columbia Hotel in Berlin which is the great hotel erected by Hitler and nothing was loft undone to make it pleasant and comfortable. We had a large sitting room, bedroom and bath. Special Services Officer, Lt. Earl Zimmerman, did everything possible to make our visit interesting and comfortable and he adjusted quickly to all changes of plan. Our group was served meals in a special dining room.

The afternoon we arrived, we gave a concert for the German people—about 1500 of them. School children were brought in busses for the concerts Our Glee Clubs were overwhelmed by the uninhibited and generous ovation they received. Jim sang a Schubery number and the audience was unrestrained in its enthusiasm. After the reception on the stage, the group went outside to find a crowd waiting there for autographs! Our group couldn't believe such a reception was possible.

In the evening the hall was again full, this time with military personnel and Germans. Many Army personnel were at this concert for more Army [men] than Air Force men are stationed in this sector. Again came the ovation and at the end of the concert among the throng that came up were two boys representing the Evangelical Youth Orphanage. With a "thank you" speech for the concert, they presented Jim with a bouquet of flowers.

This group of boys begged permission to return to the hotel with us for a social time. For once our G.I.'s were not quite the center of attention. Learning our group was to have a tour of the Soviet Sector the next morning and return exchange students were to be hosts and hostesses, they begged to be allowed to go also. Again their wish was granted. They were at the hotel promptly at nine and they presented our group with a wooden plaque with the Christian Youth Movement sign—a cross resting on a circle (the World)—which one of the boys had gone home and made the night before.

We were so happy we were to get this trip into the Soviet Sector of Berlin. True, it isn't far, but we crossed a street and entered the land of Freedom if we were to believe all the signs we saw. Stalin's picture is everywhere but there was not much in store windows and people were not happy and joyful like the ones we had been with. When we toured a bit we came back across a stree and we were warned we were leaving the land of Freedom.

A former park and recreation center is now a huge war memorial to the Soviet dead from the Berlin. At one end of a long paved walk (or road, rather) is very impressive, simple statue of Mother Russia weeping over her child which she cuddles in her arm[s]. Halfway down the pavement are two huge modernistic draped flags carved out of red marble from the destroyed Chancellery. The standard of the flags flank either side of the road and impressive statues are here, also. On beyond in a sunken section to which we could not go are vaults and the ashes of the dead and in the distance a final monument. They were quick to get these erected. There have another war memorial in the Allied sector—put up before the sectors were decided upon. The Allies allow them to keep Russian Guards posted before the flower banked monument.

After lunch we again boarded the C119, flew the Corridor and landed at Furstenfeldbruck—the home of Goering's Luftwaffe. Remember how we used to haunt the radio longing for news that would say these powers were no longer controlling our lives? Here we were walking the pathways! Col. Scott, author of "God [I]s [M]y Co-Pilot", is living in Goering's attractive stone home near the Officer's Club where we had supper. This headquarters of Goerings's pride and joy is lovely. Buildings are attractive, trees and lawns refreshing.

Again our concert was welcomed and a social hour completed the evening. On this occasion Col. Scott was the center of the evening. We were all sorry we couldn't have more time to hear his thoughts on the problems of the day.

At a late hour we boarded the bus for the Columbia Hotel in Munich. Jim and I travelled with Col. Becker in a staff car driven by a G.I. from the Furstenfeldbruck base. He is a Chicago boy who was in an Honor High School band and he was pitifully graceful for our program. He attached himself to our party and voluntarily chauffeured Col. Becker for the next two days, although it meant long hours and not much sleep for him.

Well, our drivers didn't know the location of the hotel and it was around 1:00 in the morning when, tired and cold, we got out in front of a high iron fence. All was dark so we began pounding on the gate to be let in. [As] tired and cold a[s] I was I had to laugh at the sight. These wild, uncouth Americans who have consideration for no one! Down at the end of the block a man appeared and beckoned to us. We were trying to get in at the kitchen entrance!

We had the day of March 26th to spend in Munich as our concert as Landsberg that evening was only an hour's drive. In the morning we scattered to enjoy the city as we wished. We all at some time or other ended up in the PX. I had fun poking around by myself while Jim hunted up music stores.

In the afternoon we drove out to Dachau—the Concentration camp on one some of the road is now used as a D. P. camp we were told. The ovens are on the other side of the road—now all scrubbed out and clean. In front of the buildings and near a smaller incinerator stands a gaunt statue—a reminder of the intolerable suffering endured there. The entrance room is lined with pictures of the conditions found there. The yard is still fenced where the dogs were kept. It was good to leave this spot.

We returned to Munich and visited the beer hall where Hitler planned his putsch and where he was nearly killed by a bomb. It is now a Service Men's club. Jim was sorry a concert wasn't staged in the big auditorium here which would be very good for music—especially Christian Church music!

Before returning to the Hotel, with Col. and Mrs. Becker who had joined us for one day, Jim and I stopped in the famous Hofbrauhaus. A German band was playing, the tables were filled with interesting characters with food and beer. We couldn't see our group missing this bit of color so we hurried through supper and on the way to Landsburg stopped here for 30 minutes to listen to the band and to sing for a few numbers. It was all very gay—much fun. We hated to pull out for the band was getting warmed up for an evening of fun and the crowd was in the mood for song.

As usual our group was given a rousing welcome at Landsberg and the boys flocked around for news from home and with messages for us to carry back with us. One young man was much worried about his wife who was seven months pregnant. Because of storms he hadn't been able to wire her. "I can have other childen but I can't replace my wife." So the boys worry. His mother assured me when I called her that the son had no cause for worry—all was well.

We had to return to Furstenfeldbruck to get our plane for Wiesbaden so [we] stopped to visit a plan famous for the beautiful things they make of wax and the Cathedral that King Ludwig built as a penance for having his innocent wife murdered because he thought that she was unfaithful. This is a gem of a Cathedral. Delicate carvings and statues and lovely soft blues, greens and pink. This Cathedral has to be kept locked for two mummified saints with gem encrusted coat of mail are kept in glass cases here.

Well, Col. Scott put on a brief jet air show for us before we took off. We had only been up about 15 minutes when a jet came into sight, dipped and shot up into the blue. Col. Scott's farewell to us.

Wiesbaden - Hgs. USAEF. Our last stop in Germany! Our concert was help in Kur Hall—a beautiful concert hall, perfect acoustically. We now met Gen. Landon, Col. Bailey, Col. Poch. Gen. Landon had arranged a special party for the occasion and had invited as his guests the conductor of the Wiesbaden Symphony Orchestra, two German judges, etc.

Our group, inspired by the beautiful hall, huge crowd, and filled with regret that the closing concert had arrived, gave the very best that was in them and their efforts were deeply appreciated! As Jim came off the stage after the first group of numbers he was met by a German who wanted to thank him for including German numbers in the first group even. Again Jim sang a Schubert number and encored with "The Evening Star" and how the Germans love these numbers!

Following the concert, Jim and I were entertained at the private party given by Gen. and Mrs. Landon. This was a very interesting affair. I only regretted my German was so meager.

At this party Gen. Landon decided our group should be held over until Saturday night to give another concert primarily for the German people. On Friday night we were to be guests of the Wiesbaden Symphony Orchestra. We were thrilled with all of these plans.

At midnight we broke up and went to the large hall with tulip display from Holland to find a few of our youngsters still there. What a story they had to of the party given to them! Besides the banquet provided there was a large two-tiered cake which the President of the Girl's Glee Club and the President of the Boy's Glee Club helped the presiding Colonel cut with a sword.

Our group presented gifts and poems to our crew which had served us so faithfully since leaving London and which now had other duties to perform. Then Special Services gave each of our girls a gold compact with a map of the American Zone on it and with an inscription of thanks and to each boy a cigarette lighter with the same map and inscription.

The group was delighted we were to stay over a few days. Last minute shopping started. We really had had little time to pick up mementoes.

A trip up the Rhine by bus was taken as I told you earlier in my letter. Jim and I went to Frankfurt for a luncheon with Prof and Mrs. Max Grossman. He is with the State Department in education with in Germany. They had met us in Rhein Main and expressed hope we could get together sometime. Up to this point we had had no chance to meet them. We had a pleasant three hours with them learning of what is being done in that field. They had heard two of our concerts and were most enthusiastic over the singing of the group and over the significance of it on the German people.

Well, we thoroughly enjoyed the Wiesbaden Symphony on Friday night; we sang to another good house on Saturday despite the day-long rain and we returne to the hotel to await word of the time of our departure. At three in the morning we were aroused by a pounding on our door and word that a bus was at the door to take the boys to Rhein Main where a plane would be waiting to take off at six. Such a hurry and flurry. Tearful girls waved goodbye to the boys who where hardly awake. A few minutes later they were back for their miliary orders which Jim had. We were not happy over the dividing of our group. We felt responsible and in case of emergency felt we should be with all of them but there was nothing we could do about it. So we settled back to await the next alert. Sunday morning we all dressed in our slacks expecting momentarily to be alerted but the day passed without word other than that it was 11:30 am before the boys were off, and that they went by way of Iceland. We did get a good rest and another full night's sleep for it wasn't until 9 o'clock Monday morning our alert came. It was three in the afternoon before we finally were settled in our "bucket seats" and headed home by way of the Azores.

It was a fascinating ride home for on the plane were mothers and children returning to the U.S. after years abroad. Many of the children weren't sure what America would be line. One boy very definitely wasn't happy over the prospects of a strange land. Men were returning for discharge, others for reassignment. All had their stories to tell and some treasures to show.

Many [A]rmy men were on board and several were definitely finding flying hard to take. Getting into the "Ma[e] Wests" as we approached the Azores added to the tension for those already fearful of flying. We had to come in over water into a short runway which we hit with a bang. That was too much for one young man and a six year old boy. How the young man hated to take off again but despite the rough trip he managed all right the rest of the way. But when we reached Westover Field he abandoned the plan to take the train to New Jersey.

Three hours our from Westover one engine gave out but the other engines were stepped up and we arrived at Westover about 8:30 a.m. April Fool's day and what a day and what a trip! We felt we must have been gone a month! Our campus friends were surprised the two weeks were over.

I hope I haven't bored you with this detailed account. I hope I have been able to give you just a bit of the thrill we had.

Lots of Love