Mission 31: News from the Front

March 24, 2014 — Today I’m going to let Bombardier Russ Grigsby tell the tale. In the March 14, 1945 issue of the Stars and Stripes, Russ recounts the day’s harrowing mission over Brenner Pass. It was accounts like these that provided many of the details I needed to write scenes in THE TAIL GUNNER. It also gave me a better understanding of Dad’s cryptic diary notes such as “six chutes seen.”

Buckle up for news from the day. It’s going to be a wild ride.

It was accounts like this one from the Stars and Stripes that helped me write critical scenes in The Tail Gunner novel. KBL Family Collection

—Stephanie Lile

Join THE TAIL GUNNER crew! There are only 8 days left to help fund production of the novel and save the WWII collection that inspired it.

Mission 31: Art in the Sky

Nose art from the KBL WWII Collection

Heaven Can Wait, a
WWII B-25 bomber. Note the bombs painted on her nose—each one represents a mission. KBL Family Collection

March 23, 2014 — Among the planes of the 321^st, many were identified by their distinctive nose art. Bombers and fighters both, Dad snapped pictures of many—as if he were a guy in a gallery of famous paintings. To the men who flew them, these planes did have their own kind of fame and the personalities to match.

Dad always said “his” plane was Miss Fancy Pants, but in his collection were pictures of many others and their nose art. Heaven Can Wait, Modern Design, Reddie Teddie, and Shit House Mouse were a few.

Reddie Teddie, a B25 bomber, flew with the 447th squadron of the 321st bomb wing. KBL Family Collection

WWII B25 bomber Shit House Mouse just after its 100th mission. Corsica 1945. KBL Family Collection

Fighter planes, too, were painted for personality. There were the P47 Black Scorpions, Fighting Cocks, and the Terminators. These identifiers no doubt also served as both protective and adrenaline-boosting symbols.

An unidentified pilot and a plane believed to be a P47 painted with distinctive shark teeth. KBL Family Collection

All of these images provided background for the creation of THE TAIL GUNNER novel. They were the real-life references for when Dad wrote about going down to see how the “painting on the ship” was coming. Entire books have been written on the topic of nose art. What I’ve shown here is but a smidgeon of the wide ranging nose art that skirted the skies above Mount Vesuvius.

—Stephanie Lile

Join THE TAIL GUNNER crew! There’s a few days left to help fund production of the novel and save the WWII collection that inspired it.

Mission 31: Time Traveling in Pompeii

Back stories from THE TAIL GUNNER, a soon-to-be released novel from Bering Street Books.

The little green ticket to Pompeii was my starting clue. KBL Family Collection

March 20, 2014 — In my dad’s box of WWII stuff, I found a little greenish ticket. “Tour C.I.T. Agency, Special Tours, Organized for the A.E.F. POMPEII, All fees included-Do not pay more.” It said. The ticket was No. 5853, torn from a book, probably at the rest leave office, and issued to curious soldiers. Knowing that dad had been a Latin major in high school (very surprising for a guy who spent his life as salesman), I wasn’t surprised to see that this, along with a ticket to the Vatican museum, was something that he’d saved.

The Forum at Pompeii, painted in 1841 by
the Danish artist Christen Schjellerup Købke. Courtesy of J. Paul Getty Museum.

So I went there to find him, to see what he saw. I’d been working at the J. Paul Getty Villa with its plethora of ancient treasures from Greece and Italy, and I knew well a painting of ruins and a wall fresco that the Getty conservators had pieced back together from crumbled bits. Pompeii, buried under the angry ash of Vesuvius in AD 79, was the mystical place I’d heard so much about. Now its mystique grew as I searched for the place my father had visited and photographed some 60 years before.

Before my best friend and I left for Italy, I put together a little book of photos copied from Dad’s collection. In it were the places he’d visited and photographed that we were aiming to find.

The Forum at Pompeii in 2009. Stephanie Lile photo.

Once at Pompeii, shortly after we met our English-speaking guide, I showed him my little book of photographs and asked if he knew where in Pompeii the picture had been taken. I knew it hadn’t been taken on the market street, where giant pots had once held “fast food” olives, meat, fruit, and cheeses. It wasn’t in the villa section where visitors can peer through iron gates and spot the remains of conpluvium pools and inner peristyle gardens. It wasn’t near the brothel with recently restored wall paintings. The picture I had featured a small statue of Apollo and some pillars rising from the ruins.

Our guide studied the picture and smiled. “Oh yes,” he said. “This is the oldest part of Pompeii, the part built when Pompeii was a Greek colony,” explained our guide. And so he took us there.

I recognized the spot as soon as I saw it, and by this time, the people in our tour group were getting excited about my quest, too. The little statue of Apollo even took on added meaning; it was both ancient god and a symbol of perseverance to a young airman and his daughter who had followed his footsteps through time.

I should have been happy, there in that spot where Dad had snapped pictures at the end of the war. But in a way, it made me miss him more.

—Stephanie Lile

Join THE TAIL GUNNER crew! There’s a few days left to help fund production of the novel and save the WWII collection that inspired it.

Mission 31: There are Ghosts at the Marina Piccolo

Keith Lile and the mystery woman “Mary Louise” at Marina Piccolo, on Capri, 1945. KBL Family Collection

The Marina Piccolo on Capri in bright, shining color, 2009. Stephanie Lile photo.

March 21, 2014 — A number of Dad’s photographs showed him on a rocky beach with a girl, near some striped huts. His diary noted that they,

“Went to Capri [May 19, 1945] Shutters pilot—We stopped at Rome to drop a guy off. Stout went too. Beasley & I stayed together at the Morgano Hotel, Rm 131. The food isn’t bad, and things are pretty peaceful & quiet. I met a few girls on the boat going over to Capri. They have a funny little trolley going up to the square.”

Sixty-four years later, I rode that same “funny little trolley” —the funicular—up the steep hillside from Marina Grande to the town of Capri. The La Palma Hotel, were Dad mentions having gone for dinner and dancing, was still there with its golden bull on the front stoop. Our hotel was down that narrow road a bit, closer to the Garden of Augustus. From that garden, you can look out over the blue waters of the Mediterranean, down the ancient stone path to the Marina Piccolo.

The beach at Marina Piccolo on Capri, 1945. Note the wooden kayaks on the shore. Those were still there at the marina 64 years later. KBL Family Collection

Another of Dad’s diary entries reads, “Went down to the beach went out in a kiak. It wasn’t bad at all. Met Mary Louise and took some pictures.” That clue helped me figure out the mystery girl in the pictures, no doubt a distraction for a broken engagement. Betty had written earlier to say that, “The men at the office were calling her Cinderella and she thought she would rather stay single and work for a couple of years yet.” He’d agreed with her.

So Dad partied, celebrating the end of the war, testing his freedom, and floating through those last terms of his inductment, “six months after the end of the war.” His pathway home would be as zig-zagged as the stone-paved path we followed into his world.

The proprietors of Marina Piccolo Capri with the author in 2009.

There, at the Marina Piccolo, the last fingers of pathway take you left to the pay beach, and right to the public beach. We knew from the photos in the book that the place we wanted was the pay beach–it was the little bathing huts that gave it away. They were still there, and much improved, brilliant in their green, blue, and yellow stripes. We showed our pictures to the English-speaking lifeguard at the entry, who showed them to an older and taller Richard Gere look-alike. The older fellow clearly ran the place, and he smiled and delighted in the old photos, nodding that this was, indeed the place. He gave us “a deal” on sun lounges and pointed to the fellows in red t-shirts down at the beach.

I showed them the photos as well, and the older of the two got stoked about the boats in one picture, the very boats Dad had mentioned in his diary. The younger lifeguard explained that the boats were “were still there but longer seaworthy.” They motioned me back into the boat shed and sure enough, the kayaks were resting on racks, looking pretty much the same as they had 60+ years before.

The swimmer’s view of Marina Piccolo (public beach) on the shore of Capri, 2009. Stephanie Lile photo

After doing my usual thing–trying to replicate in present-day photos that had originally been taken many years before–my friend and I went for a swim in the deep blue waters off the pebble-strewn shore. It was the first time I really felt the significance of the adventure I was on–out there floating in the swells of the Adriatic Sea–and the presence of my dad. Perhaps swimming there just brought back memories of his swimming with us kids, maybe the intense sun had finally fried my brain, but it felt like he was there, proud that we had traveled half-way around the world to discover his little secret place.

The experience left me quiet for the rest of the day, but a line of words kept running through my brain, begging to be written down and made into a poetic scene. “There are ghosts at the Marina Piccolo…” Real or imagined, there is no doubt in my heart that I was led here for a reason.

The resulting poem appears in THE TAIL GUNNER, the product of the teen-age protagonist Sylvie Stevens. She, too, snuck her way to Italy to discover the ghosts of Capri.

—Stephanie Lile

Join THE TAIL GUNNER crew! There’s only a few days left to help fund production of the novel and save the WWII collection that inspired it.

Mission 31: Campana dei Caduti

The Campana dei Caduti or “Bell of the Fallen” that stands in the hills of Rovereto, Italy.

March 20, 2014 — There is a scene in THE TAIL GUNNER that takes place in the hills of Rovereto, Italy, where the Maria Dolens, a giant bell made from World War I cannons stands. The massive bell is known as the Campana dei Caduti or “the bell of the fallen.” I post a video of the bell here today in honor of all those who have been lost in wars across the planet.

The area where the bell stands was bombed heavily during WWII, its rail lines targeted by the 12^th Army Air Corps. Axis flak guns were hidden among the hills and Dad wrote of “bookoo flak” and “six ’chutes seen” after a particularly difficult mission. At that time, Italy was occupied by German forces, making it a target for British and American armies. Consequently, buildings had been bombed, strafing runs had ripped apart small towns, and yet from the rubble of liberation, this bell of honor and hope emerged.

The bell being transported in 1965. The design that encircles its base shows a panorama of warriors from battles past.

When I first saw this video and saw the procession of battle-torn men that encircle the body of the bell, a vision came to mind. I saw hundreds of spirits passing under the bell and into the dusk. The bell was the great gathering place; the great gateway to peace. This is the place, in the book and in life, where the living and the dead part.

For all those touched by war, I share with you the “Bell of the Fallen.”

—Stephanie Lile

Join THE TAIL GUNNER crew! There’s just a few days left to help fund production of the novel and save the WWII collection that inspired it.

Mission 31: The Case of the Missing Goggles

Instructions for Rochester Optical Aviation Goggle Kit, c. 1944. KBL Family Collection

March 19, 2014 — Ephemera of the Day from the KBL Family Collection

I expected to find a set of old mouse-chewed goggles inside the small gray paper box in Dad’s trove of stuff, but there was only a set of instructions from Rochester Optical for the “Flying Goggle Type B-8” and a bunch of little tickets, postcards and letters. I read through the instructions anyway, and they gave me an idea: What if we could see other dimensions or people from other times when we looked through s set of well-used goggles such as those described here?

I put the idea into play in THE TAIL GUNNER and it became an important element of the story, both for Sylvie, the main character, and Penelope, her best friend. But the real use of the goggles was clear. They served as both eye protection and a means to cut the glare. The instructions note how to “fit and wear the goggle,” including how to thread the headstrap through the helmet loops and adjust it to fit over the flyer’s oxygen mask.

The varied color lenses had specific purposes as stated in the instructions. Clear lenses “are to be used when seeing conditions are normal.” Amber lenses “reduce the effect of haze conditions and increases the contrast of the target against the background.” The polar green absorptive lenses were to be used in times of bright sunshine or extreme glare.

In The Tail Gunner novel, Sylvie, the main character, finds Bish’s goggles in the box saved from the burn pile. In real life, the only place we found Dad’s goggles were on his head in a photograph.

—Stephanie Lile

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Mission 31: Object of the Day ~ The Port of Missing Men

March 18, 2014 — We’re shaking it up with a card from the Port of Missing Men found in the KBL Family Collection.

Card from the Port of Missing Men, 1943. KBL Family Collection

Not to be confused with the Port of Lost Men — which was, in fact, the name of a book (by Meredith Nicholson), an estate (of Millicent Rogers), and a movie (based on the book)—The Port of Missing Men was a restaurant and bar in Yonkers, New York.

It was a colorful and lively establishment, as is reflected in the card collected by Dad en route to Basic Training. An ad in the December 24, 1941 edition of the Herald Statesman thanks the Port’s patrons and pledges “to serve the public the best food obtainable, cooked by the best chef in the city, at reasonable prices.” The fact that two years later, when Dad passed through in ’43, they were serving up “Port Victory Special Cocktails” gives a whole new twist to that commitment.

Don’t miss the chance to Party Like It’s 1945! Help fund the production of THE TAIL GUNNER novel through March 31.

—Stephanie Lile

Mission 31: Tracking the Tiber Terrace

The story behind THE TAIL GUNNER novel, based on the WWII experiences and collection of Keith B. Lile

We set off with this 1945 photo in hand, looking for the AAF servicemen’s club in Rome called the Tiber Terrace. KBL Family Collection

March 17, 2014 — Before coming to Rome, I had wondered why dad and his buddies would have checked in at one place, only to bail and go stay “downtown.” After finding that Rome’s public bus only goes so far and hoofing it for miles along the winding Tiber River, we figured it out. In fact, since I hadn’t been able to find the place on Google maps, I’d pretty much figured the old Army Air Forces Tiber Terrace Club that had offered a plethora of activities to wartime soldiers had been torn down. After all, it was hardly “classic” Roman architecture–more along the lines of 1930s Deco does Showboat. But we were girls on a mission. So we went hunting anyway.

We thought we knew where we were going…

Our ingredients for discovery included photocopies of a couple old photos, a 1945 handout from said Tiber Terrace, and a map of modern-day Rome. The handout listed all the activities that had once been offered, and yes, the address. We were golden. All we had to do was find #89 Lungo Tevere Flaminio. No problemo, or so we thought.

Now don’t get me wrong. We found Via Flaminio, no problemo. But number 89 was a bit more elusive. We saw some bus drivers hanging out and ran to ask them if they knew where it was. They waved their arms down the street telling us in English as broken as our Italian that it was waaaaaaaaay down thata way. We kept walking, and soon spotted a couple of construction workers taking lunch break on a bench overlooking the river. We showed them the old pictures. “Had they seen this place?” we asked. They looked then shook their heads without a word. So we kept walking. At long last we came to a section of river that had a number of buildings in that signature 1930s-40s style. It felt like we were getting close.

This was the line-up of fun things to do at the Tiber Terrace in March 1945. KBL Family Collection

We found #79. Another block and we’d be there, surely. It had to be right here. But where? There was no sign of such a building in sight. Instead, all we found was a hedge, and behind the hedge an open lot. I’d been right. It obviously had to have been torn down. Disappointed but used to such discoveries in my History Geek day job, I wandered along the hedge, peering into the hidden zone, speculating about what had been. There was a bridge nearby, so that was where I headed to go get a “Now” picture of the late great Tiber Terrace.

I soon discovered the bridge–a monument in it’s own right–turned out to be the gateway to the 1960 Olympic Stadium. We’d had no idea. Just as I had no idea that once out on the bridge, the ancient gods and goddesses of curiosity would turn my head the other way–to look away from the vacant lot, beyond the bridge, across a tennis court, and through the tree cover to a rounded outcropping of a building that was so familiar I knew at once that I’d been mistaken.

The Tiber Terrace as it looked in World War II—a rest leave club in Rome. KBL Family Collection

It was the portholes that gave it away. The old Tiber Terrace was there, sans the old signage, in full glowing color. That’s the one thing you miss in old photos, the color. But here in the afternoon light, the terracotta paint job gleamed. I’m pretty sure the clouds parted and the winged statues on the bridge began to sing.

Standing on the bridge to the Olympic Stadium, I turned to find the very building I was looking for—the Tiber Terrace. Once a club for servicemen, now a sports club for everyone. Stephanie Lile photo, 2009.

We ran from bridge to front door of what was now #16 Via Flaminio (what happened to #89 we’ll never know) prepared to beg our way in. But we didn’t have to. Thanks to a big birthday party, we just charged right in like were invited (which we were, only the guys were long since gone). It was a hot day, and the basketball court-turned pool called to us. The roller skating rink and ping pong tables seemed to have long since disappeared, but the spirit and function of a recreation center certainly remained.

The street-side entrance didn’t appear the same at all, no wonder it had been hard to spot.

One guy, who looked like he ran the place, kept eyeing us as if wondering whether we were spies. Was it the camera and the fact I kept taking snap shots? Was it the determined way Han followed him into the “staff only” area? Was it that we perched under a tree near the birthday party happenings but carried no birthday gifts? Who knows? All I really cared about was that we’d found the prize, lived it, and photographed it in the “now.”

Recreation abounded at the Tiber Terrace in 1945. KBL Family Collection.

I suspected this Tiber Terrace was the place where Dad had picked up a pamphlet titled “A Soldier’s Guide to Rome,” where the pictures of him roller skating were taken, and where he’d done a little dancing with the local girls despite having left a fiancee back in the States. But like him, we picked up our gear, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed back into town.

We were set to meet a tour group the next day, and Dad had a plane to catch back to the island of Corsica, back to battle.

—Stephanie Lile

Next Post: Letters From Home

Mission 31: Rest Leave in Roma

The story behind THE TAIL GUNNER novel, based on the WWII experiences and collection of Keith B. Lile

The rooftops of Roma. Dad stood in nearly this exact spot back in 1945. Stephanie Lile photo, 2009.

March 16, 2014 — I feel pretty darn certain that Dad purchased his little red diary while on rest leave in Rome. He and a couple of buddies hitched a flight to the Eternal City and stayed there for about three days. He was about 30 missions in and was no doubt more than due for a little break. Lucky for me he left enough notes and pictures for me to follow his trail.

Armed with Dad’s diary from 1945, a few photos, and selected addresses from tickets and papers in Dad’s collection, I went to find a pair of 60-year-old footprints amongst the millions in Rome. It was June 2009, and I had three destinations in mind. Thanks to my best friend and many-time Roma Traveler, we found them, but not without a few hiccups.

Number 8, Via Belasario in Rome in 2009, 64 years after my Dad stayed in an apartment there on a 3-day rest leave pass. Stephanie Lile photo.

We began with the search for Dad’s “room in town at Via Belisario 8, Apt 18 – 5th floor. $1.50 p/night.” I’d Googled the address before flying halfway around the world so had discovered that there was actually a B&B there now as well. We found the place easily enough, even a directory near the door showing an Apt 18. But the building had transformed from “apartment-hotel” of the 1940s to individual residences with the B&B Pars located there in one downstairs unit.

At the door, we pushed the call button for #18, but there was no answer. Finally a nice lady who ran a B&B opened the door. Stephanie Lile photo.

We pushed the call button for Apartment 18, but there was no answer. The owner of the B&B, a delightful woman who spends time both in Italy and Canada, was kind enough to greet us instead. She had been there two years and claimed that the building had never been a hotel. But the abandoned Porter’s office and curved-glass clerk’s booth in the building lobby gave away its past. Even the old key and message boxes were still intact. I imagined my pop grabbing the key, tossing it into the air, and catching it again as his buddies ran up the five flights of stairs to Apartment 18. Rome was waiting. All those hours he’d spent studying ancient history in high school Latin club were about to pay off.

The trip was paying off for me, too. After my first travel writing job that required me to write about places I’d never been to, I vowed to ever after go to the places I was writing about. Call me a “method” writer, but there is no better way for the sounds, smells, and human interactions of a place to become ingrained in the story than to go there.

In 2009, it was difficult to get close to the statue. Stephanie Lile photo.

The statue of St. Paul as it appeared in 1945. KBL Family Collection.

From the apartment in Rome, we followed Dad’s footsteps to the statue of St. Paul we found in his photo. The statue stands outside St. Peter’s Basilica and presides over St. Peter’s Square adjacent to the Vatican. We were able to identify the statue in Dad’s photograph by the scroll he held. The square’s namesake, St. Peter, holds “the keys to heaven.” This photo was key to finding the very location where Dad had taken his picture.

From that spot, we were not far from the Vatican Museum, the ticket to which Dad had saved for nearly half a century along with his “Soldier’s Guide to Rome.” For those of you who enjoyed the recent film “Monuments Men” you’ll be happy to hear that Major DeWald, Director of the Monuments and Fine Arts Sub-Commission was its author. In fact, there were many monuments men and women who worked together to save art all over North Africa and Europe. You can still join that hunt through the Monuments Men Foundation.

Maybe Dad saved these tickets and guide to prove he was actually there. The Soldier’s Guide to Rome and tickets to the Vatican Museum and ruins of Pompeii, were proof enough for me. KBL Family Collection

In the forward of the soldier’s guide, General HR Alexander says, “Let us remember that Rome is the first capital city to be entered by us in our task of liberating Europe. Rome is the heritage of all the world and not only of Italy — Rome is the fountain of civilization. The eyes of all the world are upon our actions in the “Eternal City” and we will show the world by our example the high standard of conduct and bearing of our victorious Allied Armies.

This English-Italian phrase book served as inspiration for sending the characters Sylvie and Pen to Italy. In the book, they use it much as it was no doubt intended for WWII servicemen.

With my ticket to the Vatican Museum, I followed Dad and hundreds of ghostly soldiers through the hall of maps and into the Sistine Chapel. For all of my years of studying art history, I couldn’t help but be astounded at how “small” the chapel was. Even DeWald states that, “Michelangelo felt cramped by the enclosing space of the vault, so he painted out the vault and painted in an extra story of architecture to make the ceiling seem higher, and in between and on top of this architecture he painted figures which look like the sculpture.”

No doubt Dad was as fascinated with Rome as I was. Along with its ancient treasures, it was also a city of modern style. Dodging between ruins and majestic sculptures to get back to our bus stop, we decided that the next day would be devoted to finding Dad’s “Tiber Terrace,” a rest leave club for enlisted men.

—Stephanie Lile

Next Post: In Search of the Tiber Terrace (March 17)

Mission 31: On to Austria

The story behind THE TAIL GUNNER novel, based on the WWII experiences and collection of Keith B. Lile

B-25s soar over a target in Italy, c. 1944-45. KBL Family Collection

March 15, 2014 — On this day in 1945 Dad wrote:

This plain, rough-edged diary was basically Dad recorded the second half of his missions. Hand scrawled notes not only spell out the targets, they allude to the event sand frustrations of the day. KBL Family Collection

Flew 34^rd mission today— Started to Austria for first time. Couldn’t get in due to the weather. We were going to Bomb Canal Dia Azzingo, didn’t get up to it. Went over the Hoodinii Air Field a couple of times. Didn’t have any escort – plenty worried. Finally on way back to Italy our Area cover showed up. Knapp came back with tail prop on bomb gone and bounced all over the runway, lucky he didn’t blow up. Heard from Mac – got two pictures. 11^th day since Rome.

The next day, the 445th, “Briefed for Austria again – standown. Went up to sick call – very good shape – I went out to line to clean my guns – good shape. I wrote Mac tonight. No mail in first bunch. Went to show and stopped at 47^th to see Painter for ship. Went to show with Stumpe. Got more mail – Wendell, Phyllis, Carol & 3 from Betty. Finished letter [I] had to Betty told her I was very displeased. I didn’t sign other than name. Feel pretty low. (Sigh La Geni) Returned Keels letter, (wrong address).”

This tiny contact print revealed a surprising shot of Keith Lile cleaning the plexi-glas blister and the tail guns of a B-25 just as he had noted in his diary. Probably on Corsica, 1944-45. KBL Family Collection

These entries are embedded with little clues that took me months of studying the collection and other sources to connect. A tiny contact print that I’d overlooked a dozen times revealed the candid shot of Dad down at the line, cleaning the guns on his plane.

Nose art for the B-25 “Miss Fancy Pants.” She was girl everyone wanted to fly with. KBL Family Collection

The painter he referred to was working on the darling of the 445^th, Miss Fancy Pants, painted on the nose of a B-25. I have a feeling everybody stopped by to check on her progress.

The various squadrons, Dad mentions the 447th, were camped out along the shores of Corsica. Men were often ferried to the airfield in jeeps for their missions, but probably had to walk everywhere else most of the time.

I wondered most of all about Dad’s reference to “La Geni.” A Google search turned up “Le geni du mal” a famous sculpture in St. Paul’s Cathedral in Liege, Belgium that is the personification of Lucifer, or more accurately “the spirit of despair.” I don’t know if this artwork was what Dad was referring to, but it would certainly fit the feeling he no doubt had at the suspicion that he was losing his girl.

“Le génie du mal” a sculpture in St. Paul’s Cathedral in Belgium. Was this personification of despair what Dad was referring to? Courtesy Marco Di Lucca web.

All of these little clues simmer in the writer’s subconscious to form scenes and plot points. Some make it into the book; some become “nice-but-not-necessary.” One of the toughest parts of revision is recognizing which tidbit is which. For me, THE TAIL GUNNER, and Dad, it was the Betty storyline that eventually got cut.

On March 17, a not-so-lucky St. Patrick’s Day, Dad wrote, “Have been grounded for medical – Mission went to pass again – target was Ora. Didn’t get in – went to alternate. Finkhouse didn’t do so hot – Brown either. Knauss made 1st Lt. today. I didn’t fly with them. I wrote Betty a pretty rough letter I guess – she needs a scolding too. Has been going out with some 4-F.”

Men who were declared unfit for military duty (for a variety of reasons) were classified as 4-F. Neither Dad nor his brother, Wendell, held 4-Fs in very high esteem. That Dad’s girl was spending time with a 4-F while he was dodging flak no doubt made him “plenty PO’d.”

The Tiber Terrace as it looked in World War II—a rest leave club in Rome. KBL Family Collection

All this was happening while Dad was grounded for medical. Since he couldn’t go shoot at bad guys, he spent his time instead developing “shots of Rome.” It was from those photos that I was able to track his adventures some 60 years later through that ancient city.

—Stephanie Lile

Next Post: Rest Leave in Rome

The Stephisphere

The whirling, swirling cosmic passions and projects of Stephanie Lile

The Tail Gunner

Mission 31: News from the Front

Mission 31: Art in the Sky

Mission 31: Time Traveling in Pompeii

Mission 31: There are Ghosts at the Marina Piccolo

Mission 31: Campana dei Caduti

Mission 31: The Case of the Missing Goggles

Mission 31: Object of the Day ~ The Port of Missing Men

Mission 31: Tracking the Tiber Terrace

Mission 31: Rest Leave in Roma

Mission 31: On to Austria