Memoirs of a WWII Fighter Pilot, Part II

Gioia del Colle, Italy

     On December 9 we flew to Gioia del Colle. The field had a very small grass landing area and was almost circular with no runways. To land, we flew very close to a fence line on one side of the field and skimmed over the road on the other side. Buildings and hangars blocked out the possibility of landing and taking off in most directions.Our sleeping quarters regressed from a nice apartment building in Sardinia to a chicken coop – I’m not kidding! We had no shelter; not even tents were available, so we cleaned out a long, narrow, chicken coop located near the base. For ventilation, we raised and propped open shutters on the sides of the structure. This had to be done from the outside because there was chicken wire over the
openings.
     Three of us, Jack P. Muffitt, Herschel W. J. Baird, and I, were soon "adopted" by an Italian doctor and his family. They invited us to dinner one night and it was really an education. Actually, I think they were trying to interest us in some of the young women in the family. They served a fantastic meal, the best wine and dessert. This was also my introduction to snails. The snails were cooked (barely), placed on an oyster half-shell, and floated in lemon juice. When I passed my plate to the doctor, he started heaping the snails on it. When I indicated that was enough, he replied, "No buono?" Of course I had to say the snails were "buono." As soon as I said that, he put four or five more on the plate. I don’t recall the main entr’e, but I know it must have been great after several months of "C" rations. In fact, I don’t recall the snails being too bad either. I do know that they served a different wine after each course and there were many
courses.
     Following dinner, we rolled back the rug to dance. The doctor’s wife was a talented musician and Muffitt, who had played in Shep Field’s dance band before he went into the service, provided the music. Muffitt could play any instrument you put into his hands. Suddenly, the room was filled with pretty, young girls and their chaperones. We danced and attempted to communicate until the wee hours. The chaperones must have been keeping records, because the next time we visited the house, only the more popular girls and some new ones were
there.
     Again, all good things had to come to an end. By the end of the year we moved to a new field. Just before we moved, we had to tell the good doctor and his family the bad news that 
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