16. The Azores

We stopped at Newfoundland and the assigned personnel left us. The plane was refueled while the rest of us stayed aboard. Eight hours later we landed at Lagena air base on the island of Terceira in the Azores. Later we learned that the Azores were a group of islands 550 miles off the coast of Portugal, whose possessions they were. The U.S. had leased land to provide a base for incoming planes from Europe, plus a Navy base. The air base was only a year old and to be our new home. 

We were the first female personnel to arrive and naturally would be received with open arms by our male counterparts. It was getting dark as we landed - rough and noisy - not particularly the pilot's fault as the field consisted of metal plates. We were taken immediately to the mess hall for dinner. It was close to the field, noisy and dirty.

May 1944 - First females in Azores

Were served a stew made with spam (a canned meat), potatoes, canned peas and a horrible artificial tasting butterscotch pudding. Coffee was bitter and strong but hot and welcome. Most of us skipped dinner; we were too excited to eat. Then we were taken to our quarters, three nurses to a tent, with cots. We were surprised to note the cots had sheets and pillow cases. Some distance from our tent was the bathroom - a tent over a slit trench. Each tent had a flashlight for night trips.

Up early the next morning we returned to the large mess tent for breakfast; scrambled powdered eggs, spam, bread with greasy margarine and cocoa made with lumpy powdered milk. Then we were sent to headquarters, another large tent. Our duties were explained and then, in a small tent dispensary, we were given plague and yellow fever shots. A wooden barracks, to be completed in a few days, was to be our future home. We set up a station hospital in the quonset huts (metal semi-round structures). Frances, the oldest and most experienced among us, was to be head nurse. Frances and Vickie were to set up the surgery and the rest of us were to set up patient units.

The patients were young soldiers with peptic ulcers, flu, hepatitis, broken bones from accidents and a few cases of gonorrhea (there were some Portuguese ladies plying their trade just outside the base gates). Our first male companion was a Catholic chaplain. He took all six of us under his wing, escorted us on our first trip into the nearby town of Angra, introduced us to the local champagne and the best cafe in town. He took us shopping for the hand-embroidered tablecloths and napkins, nice and cheap, and about the only thing to buy. 

The padre told us that the few restaurants in town were about the most popular pastime for base personnel. I believed it after sampling base food. The most popular menu item was steak, tough, but at least it was not powdered, served with a fried egg on top, apparently the native custom. Green salad was the most popular choice although we were not to eat uncooked vegetable off the base. However, everyone, including yours truly, was willing to take the chance. I never had any dire results either. 

After a few days all six of us were besieged with requests for companionship - dates for dinner, sightseeing, touring the officers club and drinking champagne (Portuguese champagne was an excellent beverage at $4 a bottle, especially if one had never drunk champagne before, and none of us had): The officers club was aptly named Chateau Burlap, aptly, in honor of its wooden floor and tent walls. For tables there were old beer kegs, boxes for chairs. It was the most crowded building on base, except for the enlisted men's club, which we were not allowed to frequent. 

To spruce up the base a contest was held to note which building had the most attractive yard. You should have seen some of those yards! No grass seed was available - I doubt if grass would have grown in that rocky soil - but ingenuity was employed in the use of rock decorations. Some were quite attractive. The base Seabees were kept busy and by the end of two months practically all tents had been replaced by wooden buildings. 

During our second week we received command orders (mandatory attendance) to attend a dance at the Navy base, a few miles away but light years away in basic comforts compared to our base. We entered the lovely dining room with white tablecloths, even flowers and candles. We were served a marvelous chicken dish by black enlisted men in white ducks and shirts. 

The Navy had made a rule: no pairing off with any nurses; we were to be shared equally. One friendly and especially persistent ensign invited me for a walk around the base while the dance w.as underway. He quickly kissed me on the cheek before we reentered the dance. For this breach of rules he was restricted to the base for two weeks. Eventually the rule was dropped. My favorite and most common date was a Navy flier. 

Our first three weeks at the Azores base was fairly quiet, patient load was light as we worked days and techs took the night duty. Not very demanding nursing duty but it did sometimes require a wide range of skills. Thank heaven I knew how to cook because that was one of my duties; preparing diets for ulcer patients. Not that it called for great culinary skill but at least one had to prepare oatmeal, custard and cream soups. I can tell you it was quite a challenge on those big stoves, using powdered milk and eggs. However, I never lost a patient - at least from my cooking. 

Bobby on left with Billie and Sarah.

 

We girls were swamped with date requests and felt guilty if we didn't go out every night. In free daytime hours we explored the island by jeep or went swimming. All the nurses were permitted to check out jeeps for transport if we had civilian driver licenses. I had driven my Dad's car infrequently so I applied for a military driver license at the urging of other nurses, even though I had never driven a jeep before. A young GI showed up in a jeep one morning to give me my test. I confidently jumped in and drove off. We got to talking and I found out we were from the same hometown. As we neared town the traffic became slightly heavier and the streets narrower. In the town the front steps of the houses opened directly onto the streets - no sidewalks at all. 

As we came around a corner a large truck came toward us at a fast clip, taking up part of my side of the road. I didn't think fast enough to stop but just kept on driving. Fortunately no one was coming out of the house as I drove the jeep right over the front steps in order to miss the truck. The poor GI was really sweating and holding on tightly but didn’t say a thing. I said, “I suppose I won’t get my license now.” He answered me quietly, “Drive on and we’ll see if you do okay next time.” We drove on for about an hour, reminiscing about Akron and I was sorry when we got back to the base. I guess he thought my driving was OK because I got my license in the mail a few days later. And I never again ran into a house. 

We attended a lot of religious celebrations in town, no way to avoid it as that seemed to be the major entertainment for the locals. We also attended bull fights, the second most common form of entertainment. The bulls were turned loose into a street and then the populace, mostly male, would prod the bulls with sticks and knives as they ran. Sometimes the bulls would try to gore their tormentors who would then hurriedly try to climb up a balcony or a nearby fence. Seldom was anyone hurt. At least, unlike Spain, the object was not to kill the bull. We females were invited to watch the spectacle from a balcony. One attendance was enough for me, and I'm afraid my sympathy was always with the bulls. 

After our third week we began making flights - following the invasion of France on D Day there were many wounded soldiers to fly back to the States. An air evacuation team from England or Scotland would fly a load of patients to us in the Azores, stop for refueling and then we would fly them on to Newfoundland or Bermuda, where a third team would take the patients on to New York City or Miami. We would then have, usually, a 24-hour layover and then back to our home base. 

About once a month, instead of a layover, we would fly on to New York or Bermuda. This would give us a chance to get some good foods, plenty of milk and the fresh fruit and vegetables which we craved. If we could stay in New York longer we might go into town to see a play or a movie. One time the plane I was on had engine trouble en route to Newfoundland. If a plane was able to ditch in the North Atlantic estimated survival time was 20 minutes in a life raft. The plane was not expected to float for over 2-5 minutes. The pilot called me up to the cockpit and told me to work out a ditching procedure as an engine had gone out and we might not be able to make it back to Newfoundland. 

I went back to the cabin and started to prepare ditching plans. There were four rafts and it was necessary to schedule who went into them. Those with the highest rank went into the first raft and so on accordingly with lesser ranks in other rafts. The pilot, co-pilot and navigator always went into the first raft, regardless. The engineer and flight nurse went into the second raft, the tech sgt. in the third, etc. Any patient in heavy body cast were not included as their cast could sink the life raft. 

I felt the cabin getting warmer, at least I was, so I removed my tie and jacket, then rolled up my sleeves - and I was still perspiring. I had just finished my ditching plans when the pilot called. This is it I thought. It was OK, he said, the malfunctioning engine was working again and we would make it to Newfoundland after all. 

I happily went back to the cabin. By now the plane was tossing and turning in the rough weather. I picked up a bottle of air sickness medicine and got up to administer to those patients in need. As I reached the ambulatory patients and asked who needed the medication one of them said "Take it yourself, Lt., you've got the green gills." That was the last I recalled until I opened my eyes a few minutes later with the tech sgt and ambulatory patients standing over me. When I asked what had happened they informed me that I had fainted. I was sure embarrassed but the fellows wouldn't let me up; they all sat besides me, kept talking to pass the time until we landed. I hated to tell the head nurse of the incident but was happily surprised to find that she was understanding and not at all angry. Believe me, it never happened again. 

Our nursing duties on the plane didn't entail much skill. Mostly we spent our time trying to engage the fellows in conversation in a kind and sympathetic way. I was surprised to see what great spirits most of them were in. They were so glad to be going home that they didn't care how they got there; they would worry about their wounds later. 

The Azores-Newfoundland flight took anywhere from 7 to 12 hours depending on tail winds. I still recall the box lunches we served; spam sandwich, a piece of hard chocolate, a small container of canned fruit cocktail, now and then an orange. The coffee was kept in huge thermos jugs and was strong and bitter but I don't recall any complaints. 

After a few months the flow of wounded from European battlefields became so heavy that we had to have the rest of our squadron in Newfoundland join us. The Azores base had greatly expanded: a large post exchange, a huge mess hall and an improved officers club. Even though the food was awful most of us gained weight, not because we ate so much chow but that we supplemented with candy. Those of us who didn't smoke would trade our cigarette ration for candy. I would eat at least two Baby Ruth bars every day. When I flew to Bermuda or Newfoundland I would always pack a couple of bottles of Azores champagne, that is until the day when a GI on the plane threw my bag down to another GI who missed it. All my clothes had to go to the cleaners and I never got the wine smell out of my flight bag. After that I hand- carried the bottles. The greatest gift we could bring friends in the Azores was fresh milk so we often brought back as much as we could to dispense to our favorite people. We had a lot of friends as one may imagine.

Chapter 17: A crash landing and a nearly missed connection