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Fling, issue 1, September 1945
Page 2
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Fling * * * 2 INTRODUCING A SUBSCRIBER A personal letter from Pvt. Frank W. Wilimcyzk, on the Island of Oahu in the Hawaiian Islands: 6 July, 1945 Dear Larry: It's been such a long time since I've done any typing that when the company clerk asked me if I could type, I told him that I wasn't sure. And that was the truth -- I didn't know. Battalion Headquarters must have been distressingly short-handed, though, because I was called in several times to do little jobs, and finally was assigned to detached service with it. I do typing, simple correcting of records, and have actually cut stencils and done some mimeographing. Maybe it gives another Ackerman. This brilliant coup (on the part of somebody else -- certainly not myself) culminated a surprising series of events: No KP or interior guard duty from the time I left Blanding until I was assigned to this unit; making the first close friends I've had since entering the Army -- friends I plan to look up after the war; and, best luck of all, finding myself no longer an Infantryman -- instead, becoming a cannoneer, switching blue braid for red on my cap, swapping my heavy Garand for a handy carbine, moving in with the grandest bunch of guys I've ever met in a single unit. I'm beginning to believe that, given a little time, I mite get to like the army. Though, after thinking over that last statement, I must admit it's rather wild. I wish I had much more time than I have. I find that I can read again, after a 5-months' period of inability to concentrate enough to read even a short story, and also I find that I again have the urge to paint. The Field Artillery would be a marvellous subject for paintings, and I've already drawn up a half-dozen or so roughs of might-be oils. I had intended to do numberous pencil and pen-and-ink sketches as a basis for several large, detailed paintings, but now that I'm working in Bn, I'll probably not go into the field with the battery for quite some time. I was tickled pink when I found upon arriving in Oakland, on my way to report to Fort Ord, that I'd have two days to spend in Frisco. And when a fan thinks of Frisco, quite naturally, he simultaneously thinks of Bleery Watson, just as I did I. It took me many hours of gruelling phone-calling to locate Mr Watson's boy, but it was worth the gruel. Bill himself is quite unlike what he writes. Though he is mildly cynical in regards to fandom, he is not the violent, beard-and-bomb character I had expected him to be. Indeed, Bill has an extraordinarily pleasant manner of speaking, and he doesn't sneer in the least. He's tall, but doesn't look his height, for he is well-proportioned, and slouches when he walks, his arms dangling limply at his sides, his feet rising just enough to keep from wearing out the soles upon San Francisco sidewalks. Somewhere (we took a bus, and rode for quite a while) I met mr and mrs smith. Lou Smith, of curs, and his wife, who is actually interested in fandom. The Smiths like detective stories. I do, too. We like Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine --
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Fling * * * 2 INTRODUCING A SUBSCRIBER A personal letter from Pvt. Frank W. Wilimcyzk, on the Island of Oahu in the Hawaiian Islands: 6 July, 1945 Dear Larry: It's been such a long time since I've done any typing that when the company clerk asked me if I could type, I told him that I wasn't sure. And that was the truth -- I didn't know. Battalion Headquarters must have been distressingly short-handed, though, because I was called in several times to do little jobs, and finally was assigned to detached service with it. I do typing, simple correcting of records, and have actually cut stencils and done some mimeographing. Maybe it gives another Ackerman. This brilliant coup (on the part of somebody else -- certainly not myself) culminated a surprising series of events: No KP or interior guard duty from the time I left Blanding until I was assigned to this unit; making the first close friends I've had since entering the Army -- friends I plan to look up after the war; and, best luck of all, finding myself no longer an Infantryman -- instead, becoming a cannoneer, switching blue braid for red on my cap, swapping my heavy Garand for a handy carbine, moving in with the grandest bunch of guys I've ever met in a single unit. I'm beginning to believe that, given a little time, I mite get to like the army. Though, after thinking over that last statement, I must admit it's rather wild. I wish I had much more time than I have. I find that I can read again, after a 5-months' period of inability to concentrate enough to read even a short story, and also I find that I again have the urge to paint. The Field Artillery would be a marvellous subject for paintings, and I've already drawn up a half-dozen or so roughs of might-be oils. I had intended to do numberous pencil and pen-and-ink sketches as a basis for several large, detailed paintings, but now that I'm working in Bn, I'll probably not go into the field with the battery for quite some time. I was tickled pink when I found upon arriving in Oakland, on my way to report to Fort Ord, that I'd have two days to spend in Frisco. And when a fan thinks of Frisco, quite naturally, he simultaneously thinks of Bleery Watson, just as I did I. It took me many hours of gruelling phone-calling to locate Mr Watson's boy, but it was worth the gruel. Bill himself is quite unlike what he writes. Though he is mildly cynical in regards to fandom, he is not the violent, beard-and-bomb character I had expected him to be. Indeed, Bill has an extraordinarily pleasant manner of speaking, and he doesn't sneer in the least. He's tall, but doesn't look his height, for he is well-proportioned, and slouches when he walks, his arms dangling limply at his sides, his feet rising just enough to keep from wearing out the soles upon San Francisco sidewalks. Somewhere (we took a bus, and rode for quite a while) I met mr and mrs smith. Lou Smith, of curs, and his wife, who is actually interested in fandom. The Smiths like detective stories. I do, too. We like Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine --
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