Ben --
My father, Herbert Jeff greatly enjoyed receiving
the 517th Mail Call and since he passed away a little over a year ago, I have
continued to enjoy receiving the Mail Call. Thanks for all of your hard
work in making the 517th Mail Call a possibility. I often read postings
from some of the 517th & family members that warm my heart as they remind me
of how Dad loved to talk with others about his service during WWII. Among
Dad's things are quite a few photos along with letters that he wrote to his
mother (my grandmother).
I have scanned a few of the photos that I thought
you might enjoy seeing. Among those pictured are a few people whose
names I heard through the years, but have never personally met. Dad and I
had talked several times about scanning some of his pictures for possible
posting on the website, but we just never got around to it. On the
attached photos, I have typed Dad's writing from the back of the
photo.
Gail Jeff Douglas, daughter of Herbert Jeff, HQ,
460th
They will be on web site
soon.-Ben
Garrett Simpson
Dear Mr. Marquet: I want to thank you again for assisting my son when he
came to Bastogne in June to attend ceremonies for the Battle of The Bulge 60th
Anniversary. As you know, he went to Belgium in lieu of his ailing
grandfather, Mr. Schaal, who won the Bronze Star for his
service there in 1944. As fate would have it, your email and poem,
"The Final Inspection" arrived here early on Saturday, October 22d, the day we
buried Mr. Schaal with military honors in Phoenix. His granddaughters
read your poem aloud at his funeral. It helped make the events of that
sad day even more moving. Best wishes always, Garrett Simpson,
Glendale, Arizona
Roger Marquet
<rogermarquet@skynet.be> wrote:
The Final Inspection
From the web site.
PARATROOPER'S ODYSSEY
by Jack C.
Casliglione
High on the deck of a flying wreck a Paratrooper stands.
He stares straight ahead and listens with dread, as he
waits those final commands.
There's a green light glow and a shout, "Let's go" as he leaps
straight into space.
There's the thrill of the drop -- the hard opening
shock
And the starlight shows fear on his face.
A quick sigh of relief, then he thinks of the rest,
To be met when he reaches the ground.
Then he looks far below, for a safe p/ace to go
From the shells that are bursting around.
There's a rip and a slash, and hard jamming crash
And his canopy hangs from a tree
Though in a poem I can’t show it
‘Cause the guy in the chute was me.
In a state of collapse, I unbuckled my straps and I shakily rose
from the sod,
No bones were broken, the night is a cloak and I offer a prayer
to God.
Then an enemy gun sets me off on the run as I hastily hunt our
CP
You can think what you please, but I'm weak at the knees
Cause the Jerries are hunting for me.
They say in this war that we're fighting for
All the good things in life and for freedom
But the crazy galoot in the parachute won't live so long as to
need 'em!
