Category Archives: World War Two

Much to Celebrate and Mourn

 

The following is an excerpt from River of January: Figure Eight

 

For three anxious days reports trickled in from the Pacific, dispatches that were spotty, vague, and inconclusive. When details emerged of this first-ever clash in the sky, the United States Navy found much to celebrate and, tragically, as much to mourn.

The particulars surfaced days after the attack, presenting a clearer picture of the Battle of Midway. At a morning briefing, base personnel learned firsthand the events surrounding this aerial showdown. “The Imperial Japanese Navy,” began an officer Chum recognized as Lieutenant Commander Kirby, “in an attempt to eliminate US forces on Midway Island, launched multiple airborne assaults. The number of enemy aircraft carriers present in the attack has convinced the Department of War that the Japanese military intended to occupy the island in order to menace US installations farther west in Hawaii.” Kirby paused, somberly measuring his words. “The Empire of Japan has utterly failed in their effort.” The lieutenant commander smiled faintly. “Of the six Japanese carriers under Admiral Yamamoto’s command, four now sit at the bottom of the central Pacific.” 

For a moment, the gathering seemed to hold its collective breath, pondering the lieutenant commander’s words. When the full significance sank in, the men jumped to life, roaring in satisfied approval. After the shouting and fraternal backslapping, the crowd finally stood together in a rousing standing ovation. 

Kirby couldn’t help but grin at the enthusiastic response, but quickly quelled the celebration with a brief “As you were.” When everyone was seated again, he continued. “Ahem. Yes, this is good news, good news.” Glancing down at his notes and taking a deep breath, he said, “Gentlemen, this great triumph has come at a grim price for the navy. Fellas, we have lost the USS Yorktown. An enemy sub took the old girl down. She was too disabled from the Coral Sea campaign to maneuver away. Our losses so far are sobering—over three hundred casualties at latest count.” 

Kirby’s eyes scanned the crowd. “Among the dead, five squadrons of Devastator torpedo bombers from both the USS Enterprise and the USS Hornet. These bombers were utterly blown from the sky while executing attacks on Japanese vessels. The Department of the Navy verified the few who survived the shelling were slaughtered in the water by the enemy rather than rescued. Initial reports from Honolulu indicate that Wildcat fighters, assigned to protect these torpedo bombers, lost all contact, leaving the Devastators hopelessly exposed to Japanese ordnance. Boys, we lost them all, all of our torpedo bombers and pilots—but one, a pilot from Texas.” 

The room fell silent, as if there had been no good news at all, no victory in the Pacific. Kirby concluded the briefing with, “Their brave sacrifice made it possible for the rest to find and sink those Japanese carriers.”

Seated among his fellow pilots, Chum shook his head sadly, reminded of a conversation nearly fifteen years before, when he was just a boy—a Seaman, First Class. After a morning of training—of war games—he and a buddy were perched on stools at the base canteen in Panama. Flying his torpedo bomber yards from service vessels had left him unsettled, and he said to his friend, “We approach in low formation, drop our payload and bank, while dangerously showing our undersides to the enemy. We’d be lucky to keep our asses dry, Win. Makes me wonder what desk genius dreamed up this idea. It’s a suicide mission.”

“A suicide mission,” he repeated, in a hopeless whisper, coming out of his reverie.

“Permission to speak, sir,” came a voice from the rear of the hall.

Kirby responded, “Permission granted.”

“How does a sailor go about transferring to the Pacific, sir? With all due respect to our mission here in New York, I want to whip those Japs bad.” Murmurs of agreement swept across the room.

“Fill out the proper paperwork, son.” The lieutenant commander sounded weary. “Complete with your commanding officer’s signature.”

Gail Chumbley is the author of the two-part memoir, “River of January” and “River of January: Figure Eight.” Available at http://www.river-of-january.com or on Kindle

gailchumbley@gmail.com

Quebec City 1939

The following is an excerpt from “River of January: Figure Eight, available at http://www.river-of-january.com and on Kindle.

Costumed in tall Hussar caps and military jackets resplendent with gold brocade, the skaters stood expectantly in their V-shape formation in the shadows. Helen, arms twined around the skaters beside her, shivered from a combination of excitement and the frigid draft wafting from the ice. Her ears thudded, inundated by the echoing din from the impatient audience. Much louder than a theater, she thought.

Vera Hruba—a Czech Olympian who was one of the three women headliners in the new production—was positioned at the apex of the V. When the last measures of the orchestra’s overture faded to a close, the house lights darkened and the expectant spectators fell silent. With a commanding flourish, the opening bars of a military march surged to all corners of the house. Spotlights swept over the glittering skate line as Helen pushed off with her left foot, in sync with the tempo. Following two more beats, Hruba burst from the crux of the V and raced the circumference of the rink, spotlights holding tight to her revolutions. The audience roared their appreciation in waves of echoing applause. Helen’s first ice show had begun.

If rehearsals were any gauge, Helen was confident the show would be a success. The chorus line often lingered along the rail, chatting and stretching, as they waited for the director to call them onto the ice. “That’s Vivi-Anne Hulten. She’s Swedish,” Clara Wilkins whispered, leaning in, as she and Helen studied the soloist on the ice. “She’s been skating since she was ten,” Clara added, as Hulten executed a perfectly timed waltz jump. “Boy, that little Swedish meatball knows her footwork.” The girls standing nearby murmured in awed agreement.

Chestnut-haired Lois Dworshak sprinted past the attentive chorus line. Helen glanced again at her well-informed friend and Clara didn’t disappoint. “She, Lois there, is a bit of a prodigy. She skated a little as a kid in Minnesota, but hasn’t actually skated professionally all that long. She’s good too, huh?”

“Jeepers, you can say that again,” Helen muttered.

“But the real story in this cast is Vera Hruba.” This time, it was May Judels, the head line skater standing next to Eileen, who spoke up. All eyes shifted toward May. “Vera met Hitler, just like Sonja Henie did, at the Olympics in Berlin. She finished her freestyle routine and came in pretty high, I think. Vera didn’t medal or anything, but still skated a pretty good program.”

“So what happened?” asked another girl, Margo.

“Hitler says to her, ‘How would you like to skate for the swastika?’ And Vera—she doesn’t much like Germans—told him she’d rather skate on a swastika!” Heads turned in unison, watching as Vera completed a flying camel. “So”—May sighed—“to make a long story longer, Vera and her mother left Prague in ’37 as refugees. Then the Huns marched in, and Hitler made a public statement that Vera shouldn’t wear Czech costumes or skate to Czech folk songs. He said Czechoslovakia was gone, never to rise again. Vera responded, saying she’d always be a Czech and that Hitler could, in so many words, go fly a kite.”

“Their own little war . . . now that’s guts,” Helen said, her eyes returning to center ice. “Makes Henie seem like even more of an apple polisher.”

“A swastika polisher,” Margo corrected, as the director motioned the giggling chorus to center ice.

Gail Chumbley is the author of “River of January,” and “River of January: Figure Eight.” Available at http://www.river-of-january.com and on Kindle.

One Thing Leads to Another

 

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PanAm Flying Boat 

 

As many of you . . . some of you. . . well, none of you know, Jeff Bezos is out to get me. So jealous, is old Jeff, that he monkeyed with my book pricing on Amazon, charging upward to $600 for my $15.99 book, “River of January.” But I showed him. I not only took that title down, but the second part of the memoir, “River of January: Figure Eight” as well. Let him agonize that defeat. This blow could bring the company to its knees. 

But, I am not without a trace of mercy. If one, or even two of you were inclined, both books can still be found on Kindle. If a reader’s taste runs toward nonfiction, with a yearning to relive an earlier era; a time of air races, world travel, Hollywood glamour, Vaudeville productions, Sonja Henie ice shows, and World War Two, I’ve got the story for you. Even Jeff understands blockbusters, like “River of January,”  cannot be  forever muzzled.

During this long overdue separation with Bezos, I’ve dabbled in another, new to me, format—writing plays. With my script writing partner, Ray Richmond, (yeah, we have written a script) we’ve committed to highlight historical figures who are important, but lesser known. Our first effort, still in progress, covers the life of Antebellum Senator, Henry Clay, and his herculean efforts to stave off Civil War. I’m not sure that writing plays is any easier than big girl chapter books, but I like the process better. And noble Henry Clay is an inspiring muse.

If anybody out there has wondered what became of Gail, and her endless accolades of Helen and Chum, I am quite well and still preaching the gospel of “River of January.”  

Without the experience of writing these two books, playwriting would never have touched my life. Please watch for more announcements on “Clay,” and if you think “River” and “Figure Eight” is a good reading fit follow the hyperlink.

Together we will shall ‘mean girl’ Jeff Bezos. 

For hard copy books, www.river-of-january.com

On Kindle https://www.amazon.com/s?k=river+of+january&ref=nb_sb_noss_2

Gail Chumbley is the author of the two-part memoir, River of January, and River of January: Figure Eight.

Photo credit, Mary Sederstrom Smith

gailchumbley@gmail.com

 

 

 

 

 

99 Cents

The Kindle version of “River of January: Figure Eight” is on sale today for only 99 cents. Step right up and enjoy the flight.

Gail Chumbley is the author of the two-part memoir, “River of January” and “River of January: Figure Eight.” Both available at www.river-of-january.com.

$864.00?

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Oh, Amazon, anarchy is thy name! Part 1 of my two-part memoir is listed on Amazon books for $15.99 plus shipping. But cyber guerilla’s have used copies priced from $40. to $864.00. Can I get a witness?

Dear readers, if you would like a copy of ROJ got to www.river-of-january.com. That’s where gravity still functions.  The book is available at a reasonable price. I’ll sign it if you wish.

Also book 2, River of January: Figure Eight is available on Kindle for .99 cents. The sale continues until February 2.

BTW, Amazon says the book price lists fine on their end.

Gail Chumbley is the author of the two-part memoir, River of January and River of January: Figure Eight

January in January

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Beginning Sunday,  January 27th,  “River of January: Figure Eight,” Kindle edition, is on sale. Purchase “Figure 8” for .99 cents until February 3rd.

Gail Chumbley is the author of the two-part memoir, “River of January” and “River of January: Figure Eight.” Visit our webpage at www.river-of-january.com

A Seasoned Veteran

This is an excerpt from “River of January: Figure Eight.”

After waiting nineteen months for his transfer west, the actual trip raced by almost too rapidly. One morning he boarded a train in New York City, the next he soared over the Ko’olau Mountains of Oahu. This war waited for no one, and Chum’s new duties began at once.

Lesser damage from the 1941 assault on Pearl Harbor had been cleared away. The runways, taxiing strips, airfields, and hangars bore little evidence of the strafing and bombing that had rained down a year and a half earlier. Not gone from view, however, was the lifeless hulk of the once proud battleship USS Arizona. Broken in the harbor, she had been cut dead in her moorings. Nearby, her sister, the USS Oklahoma, listed unnaturally on her side—both vessels now sacrificed ruins lying prostrate on Battleship Row. The twin wreckage supplied all the reminders Chum needed of why he had come to the Pacific.

Billeted in junior officer housing at Makalapa, the pilot began each morning commuting past the somber remains in the harbor to attend briefings and equipment familiarization. Assigned to Air Transport Squadron Ten, Chum straightaway began logging air time aboard another giant seaplane—the Martin PBM-3 Mariner. Designed for heavy cargo and armaments, this aircraft was enforced with a deep hull. The lieutenant spent his flight time practicing raising the titan from the sea and maneuvering under the weight of heavy payloads.

Opening his orders on July fifth, the lieutenant—along with his newly attached co-pilot, Lieutenant Richard Forman, and seven crewmen—departed from the waters of Pearl Harbor for Johnston Island, 750 nautical miles deeper into the Pacific. On board, the Mariner carried a hefty cargo of medical supplies, military dispatch files, and bags of civilian mail. Lieutenant Chumbley covered his maiden flight in five hours and forty minutes—enough hours, under wartime conditions, to render him a seasoned veteran.

Gail Chumbley is the author of “River of January,” and “River of January: Figure Eight.” Both titles available at http://www.river-of-january.com and on Amazon and Kindle.
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Holiday On Ice

I am proud to announce that River of January: Figure Eight is now on Kindle. If you loved the first volume, River of January, this is a chance to discover the rest of the story.

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We are in talks to see both books on the big screen. Stay tuned for news on that exciting front.

Now both books are on Kindle. If the spirit of the holiday moves you, give us a short review.

Gail Chumbley is the author of River of January, and River of January: Figure Eight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Tidings

 

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An extraordinary event has come our way. River of January, then River of January:Figure Eight are to become feature films. We have signed an option agreement with Falls Park Entertainment of Greenville, South Carolina to bring Helen & Chum’s story to the silver screen. Pinch me, I must be dreaming.

Books are available at http://www.river-of-january.com, and at Amazon.com

Go Get ‘Um

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The date was June 5, 1944, and General Dwight D Eisenhower had made the decision to begin the Allied invasion of France the next morning. Christened “Operation Overlord” the massive campaign required disruption inland from the Normandy coast to insure a solid beach-head. The task fell to soldiers of the US 82nd Airborne, the US 101st Airborne,  and members of the 6th British Airborne. The mission was to impair the Wehrmacht’s ability to move their Panzer units toward the five invasion points.

General Eisenhower met informally with soldiers of the 101st, chatting and encouraging, to build morale. He must have felt an enormous responsibility sending these young Americans on such a hazardous and vital mission. While he mingled with the men, Ike suddenly wondered, “Is anybody here from Kansas?” A voice replied from the crowd, “I’m from Kansas, sir.” Ike looked the boy in the eye and responded, “Go get ‘um, Kansas.”

That story always leaves me teary. I don’t cry in movies, poetry doesn’t move me, and books have to be awfully emotional to elicit a sob out of me. But that moment of raw, honest regard, with so much at stake, hits me in the heart.

Washington at Trenton, Grant at the Wilderness, Doughboys in the Argonne, GI’s at the Bulge, Marines at Hue: the devotion to duty chokes me up. Every time.

But today Americans seem somehow lessened, cheapened. There are no Eisenhowers, or Washingtons, or Lincoln’s to describe what we represent. The institutions that inspired countless young people to lay down their lives are now attacked by an ersatz strongman from within. How could this happen? How can citizens of good conscience condone this very real threat? Where is our collective honest regard for our past, present , and future?

Makes me want to cry.

Gail Chumbley is the author of the two-part memoir, “River of January” and “River of January: Figure Eight.” Both are available on Amazon.com