Category: history

Loose Lips Sink Ships

My Mother and Audie Murphy Ch. 11

May, 1944. On the Ship to Naples 

“Loose lips sink ships.” That was the mantra drilled into the heads of American Red Cross (ARC) women during their training in Washington, D.C. If the FBI discovered that a secret had leaked because of something you said or wrote, you were sent home. 

One instructor drove the point home with a cautionary tale: An ARC worker had called her parents in Montana, mentioning that she was in Colorado on her way to San Francisco. Her mother told the butcher, who told someone else, and within three hours, the FBI had traced the leak back to her. As a result, an entire convoy was delayed. 

Flo took these warnings seriously. While she wrote to her mother in Yakima regularly, she was careful never to include anything that might be considered classified.  

The Pentagon, opened 1943, displaced a Black town.

Fast-Tracked for War  

The usual six-week training program had been slashed to just two weeks to push the women through faster. The military issued them canteens, helmets, and web belts, alongside yet another round of security warnings. Phone calls and letters were discouraged. Training even covered how to handle a poison gas attack, complete with gas mask drills.  

Flo and her cohort began training on April 17, 1944. By May 8, they had their embarkation orders. On a warm May morning, the ARC women, clad in winter uniforms, marched two abreast to Union Station, where they boarded a train to New York City. From Penn Station, they were shuttled by bus to Brooklyn and housed at the massive St. George Hotel. There, they waited—alongside countless other uniformed Americans—until it was time to ship out.  

No one knew where they were going. Not even the ship’s officers were told their destination. Only the captain held that information, as wartime security dictated.  

The HNHS Atlantis

Aboard the HMHS Atlantis 

Flo’s ship, the HMHS Atlantis, was a British hospital vessel that had already survived encounters with German U-boats. The Germans ignored Geneva Convention rules that forbade attacking hospital ships—these vessels made tempting targets. During submarine alerts, the Atlantis would zigzag wildly to evade torpedoes.  

Once aboard, Flo learned that her destination was Italy, where she had been assigned to the North Africa theater. The ship carried British engineers, fellow ARC workers, and stacks of Italian phrasebooks. Flo tried to pick up a bit of the language during the long voyage.  

Crossing the Atlantic took nearly three weeks. To pass the time, Army journalists produced a daily mimeographed newsletter, Red Cross Currents, a few copies of which Flo saved in her scrapbook. She also kept menus and records of shipboard activities, which included:  horse racing (the cardboard variety), a contract bridge tournament, shuffleboard, deck quoits, “angell golf”, ping pong and deck tennis. Prizes were cartons of cigarets. 

Horserace program

Flo documented her voyage with snapshots—sunbathing with English engineers, uniformed officers on deck. Among the clippings in her album was an image of the newly built Pentagon, a source of national pride. What the public hadn’t been told, however, was that its construction had wiped out Queen City, a thriving Black town in Arlington, Virginia. The residents of the town were descendants of the residents of Freedman’s Village, which had been established by the federal government during the Civil War as a home for displaced freed slaves.

Letters, Friendships, and Missed Meetings  

Flo befriended an Irish engineer who worked on the ship, R.H. Wilkinson. They kept in touch throughout the war, attempting—but failing—to meet again. In August 1945, after the war had ended, Wilkinson wrote to her, reminiscing about their time on the Atlantis and asking for copies of photos to complete his scrapbook. He had since been deployed to the Pacific and was now stationed on the India run, where, as he put it, it was “very hot!” If she ever made it to Belfast, he promised, she would receive a true Irish welcome.  

Flo never did make it to Ireland.  

Sunning on the deck. Flo in the middle

First Glimpse of Naples 

As the Atlantis steamed past the lush, romance-laden Isle of Capri into Naples harbor, the passengers got their first look at war-torn Italy. The harbor was in ruins, bombed repeatedly during the Allied campaign to drive out the Germans. Though much of the destruction was confined to the waterfront, Naples itself—dirty, crowded, and overrun with American troops—had changed dramatically.  

A military-issued guide described the city in blunt terms:  

“The city of 1,000,000 still is the filthy, teeming tourist town, and now prices have trebled with the advent of thousands of Americans. There are gimcrack souvenirs, phoney tortoise-shell, dangerously bad wine and brandy, poor but expensive waterfront restaurants.

There are trips to Pompeii and Herculaneum, tours of Naples, and excursions up the slopes of Vesuvius (ARC trips). There’s an Allied Officers’ Club (dinner, drinks, dance, romance), an 82% venereally infected civilian population, an opera company and a symphony; buses, cabs, suburban trains; oranges, tangerines, grapes, lemons, and apples.  

And 50 miles to the northwest there is a war, of which occasional bombers remind Neapolitans on infrequent nights of the dimout.”

Stamped at the bottom: 

NO – SORRY – YOU CAN’T MAIL THIS PAPER HOME.  

From a Life Magazine story pasted in Flo’s album

A New Reality  

Flo later wrote to her mother, “The Rock of Gibraltar was the only stop our ship made on the way over, and it looked exactly like all the pictures we’ve seen. The Isle of Capri, I saw in a very early morning light, and it looked even more romantic that way.”  

In lovely spring weather they sailed into Naples May 27, 1944. Allied bombing over the course of many months had destroyed much of the ancient city. Of course, the port had been a prime target and so what the passengers of the Atlantis saw when they first laid eyes on Italy was the ruins of war, patched ably by the American engineers. For Naples was now in Allied hands. The Nazis had retreated north.

In event of capture, she will be treated as a captain.

Ch. 12: https://mollymartin.blog/2025/03/01/attack-at-anzio/

A Reprieve and a Little R&R

My Mother and Audie Murphy Ch. 10

Naples suffers bombing by all

Autumn, 1943. After many weeks on the front lines, Audie Murphy and his squad are given a reprieve.

Crawling with filth and exhausted to the bone, they are pulled out of the lines in mid-November. The valley below is now clear of the enemy; Mount Lungo has fallen. From its heights, they look toward Cassino. The war drags north, its roar receding into the distance. Burial squads already move across the slopes, searching for the bodies of men who have received their final order to go forward.

As the squad makes its way on foot down a shell-torn road, the relief is almost intoxicating. Despite the lateness of the season, the day is bright and mild. A breeze whispers through the trees, and the solid earth beneath their boots feels strangely kind. The simple rhythm of marching renews their spirits. They look at one another with foolish affection, aware that they have been handed back life.

They are transferred to a camp with tents and two full meals a day. Orders soon come down: amphibious training at a beachhead near Naples. Discipline tightens, and day and night they drill against an unseen enemy. Fully armed, they wade through surf up to their hips and crawl belly-down through marshes, their clothes crusted with salt and mud.

Bombing of Naples

None of the troops know what the training will lead to. Rumors fly. Are they being prepared for an assault on southern France, to be sent to England for a cross-channel D-Day, for assault on some new beachhead? The dogface soldiers are always strangers to the plan.

The mood darkens. Many are certain they are being prepared for slaughter. Tempers fray, and old comrades come to blows over small provocations.

Murphy’s squad gets overnight passes to Naples.

Poor Naples. The city endures relentless bombing raids from 1940 into 1944. While under German control, the Allies bombard it continuously—first the French, then the British, and finally American bombers. Italy surrenders to the Allies on September 8, 1943, but the Germans refuse to relinquish their hold, murdering civilians and those who resist the ongoing occupation.  

Then, the citizens of Naples rise up against the Nazi forces. They successfully disrupt German plans to deport Neapolitans en masse to work camps, destroy the city, and block the Allies from securing a strategic foothold. A spontaneous insurrection erupts, and despite limited weapons and organization, the Neapolitans force the German troops to retreat just before Allied forces arrive.  

This dramatic rebellion is later depicted in Nanni Loy’s 1962 film “The Four Days of Naples”, which earns Oscar nominations for Best Foreign Film and Best Screenplay.  

Even after Naples falls to British and American forces on October 1, 1943, the bombing continues. The Germans respond with a scorched-earth campaign, destroying communication and transportation networks, water and power grids, and mining buildings. They burn the state archives of Naples and the national library, sink ships in the harbor, and leave devastation in their wake. Within a week of its capture, however, the Allies manage to reopen the port, restoring vital access to the city.

On the night that Murphy and his squad rest and recreate in Naples, there is an air raid. Murphy doesn’t drink or smoke, but his men get drunk, and one gets rolled by a hooker, returning to camp without his coat, gear and money. Murphy is set up with a date, but he sleeps through it and the air raid as well.

Winter settles over Naples. The clock strikes three. Light from a low January sun creeps along stone walls and rooftops. The war is still close enough to feel—but for the moment, Murphy and his men live, rest, and wait for whatever comes next.

From Life Magazine October 18, 1943

“Last week Italy’s autumn rain was soaking the plain of Campania. It dripped on the date and peach trees, on vineyards heavy with unharvested grapes, and on the rich bottom lands north of Naples. It trickled down the necks of British and American soldiers slogging across the marshes toward the Volturno river and chilled the Germans, dug into foxholes across the river, in the shadow of Mount Massico. Somewhere in that area in the rain, the Germans would try to halt the relentless Allied advance. If they failed, the road to Rome would be open.

Behind the lines, Naples, slowly and painfully returned to normal. But the wounds of battle would not be healed for many months. The city was still practically without water, gas or electricity. In one terrible explosion on October 7, more than 100 civilians were killed when a delayed-action German mine destroyed the post office. Hungry, homeless children wandered the streets, and there was no medicine in the hospitals. German demolition squads have made a shambles of the waterfront. Shops were looted, the telephone building blown up, the University fired, and the tourist hotels ruined by Nazi troops before their retreat.”

Chapter 11: https://mollymartin.blog/2025/02/24/loose-lips-sink-ships/

American Red Cross Training

You are covered by the international rules of war

My Mother and Audie Murphy Ch. 9

On Monday morning April 17, 1944 the three women from Washington state reported for training at the American University campus. They checked into a large classroom full of milling women and immediately lost track of each other. In the din Flo could hear accents from all over the country, and as she met and talked with the recruits, she was impressed by their high level of education and abilities.

At graduation, Flo was photographed with her Washington State counterparts–the Suksdorf twins and a woman from Seattle, Josephine Ryan. Flo at right.

That first day was mostly filled with speeches from ARC directors, none particularly memorable. Then, the trainees fell into a routine: up at 6am, lectures and exams starting at 8am.

One instructor they dubbed Theda Bara. She was a thin older woman, hair drawn severely back from her face, who had served in France during “the last show” as she called the Great War. She warned of the pitfalls and perils women face in situations where they are sometimes outnumbered by men 100 to 1.

The women were admonished to date only officers and to “be careful not to let your heads be turned by all the attention.”

“As ARC staff assistants you are considered officers if captured, the equivalent of second lieutenants, and you are covered by the international rules of war,” she told them. 

The women were allowed extra time to shop and they needed it. They hadn’t realized there was so much shopping involved–at their own expense. They were given one set of summer and winter Class A uniforms (dresses and skirts only; no pants), which they would need to have fitted. Flo was also issued a trench coat type raincoat, and a heavy topcoat with removable red lining. The Red Cross paid for the uniforms, but the women had to pay for a long list of required clothes and equipment. The list specified exactly how many white blouses, socks, cotton underpants, girdles, and cotton gloves they would need, plus odd items like canteen, web belt, musette bag (a shoulder bag, like a purse), boots, duffle bag and foot locker, leaving them to scurry all over town to track down every item on the list. 

In her new uniform with “uncle” Alf

Once she had been fitted for her new uniforms, Flo paid a visit to “Uncle” Alf. The Wick family’s dear old friend, Alfred May, lived in Washington and Flo had telegrammed him of her arrival. She hadn’t seen her gay “uncle” since he had visited the family in 1929 when her father was still alive. Uncle Alf had been her father Ben’s partner in the family chicken farm business in Oregon and he was a presence in the four daughters’ lives until the business went bust and he joined the Navy in WWI. Alf, the son of a costume making English family–whose clients it was said had included the Queen–had dressed the girls and himself in Shakespearean outfits and produced plays. Flo had made a quite passable Hamlet. Alf was still living with the family who had taken him in, though he had retired from his job at the Naval Academy. Flo and Alf were photographed together in front of Alf’s apartment.

Back at the training school, a teacher admonished the women. “Once you get orders you’re incommunicado until you reach your destination, which might take as long as two months.”

Chapter 10: https://mollymartin.blog/2025/02/17/a-reprieve-and-a-little-rr/

Train to D.C. April, 1944

Chapter 7 My Mother and Audie Murphy

On the packed trains from Yakima to Chicago and Chicago to D.C. were many others traveling to war. It seemed to Flo like the whole country was traveling east. Many on the train were wives of servicemen. Some fellow travelers were American Red Cross workers. Two sisters, identical twins, got on at Spokane on Washington’s far eastern border. Louise and Lucine Suksdorf grew up in the tiny Eastern Washington town of Rosalia. They were heading to D.C. and the ARC training school as well, and the women bonded immediately.

Flo was no rube. She had taken the train cross-country to YWCA meetings in Columbus, Chicago and Minneapolis, and she’d visited New York City in 1941. She had disembarked at Grand Central Station, the biggest train station in the country, but that was before the U.S. had entered the war. Nothing prepared her for Washington’s Union Station in April 1944, ground zero in war-related transport.

Stepping down from the train, the women found themselves in what felt like an anthill. The Beaux Arts vaulted ceiling arches of the station lent a turn-of-the-century air to the scene of rushing bodies down on its marble floors. They were just three of thousands (millions?) of people milling in all directions. The station itself was alive with frantic activity, its denizens dressed mostly in khaki uniforms. Soon, Flo would be one of them, shipping out to some unknown theater of war, somewhere in the world. 

Washington, D.C. Interior view of the Union Station with Office of War Information (OWI) poster in the background reading Americans will always fight for liberty. Gordon Parks, 1912-2006, photographer. Library of Congress 

The women had heard that the presidential suite in Union Station had been converted to a USO club during the war. They had to see it. Explaining at the door that they were about to enter service as ARC workers, they were ushered into the suite, admiring the opulent decorations. Service members in uniform lounged on leather-covered chairs and couches. They played cards and chatted at tables. This would not be Flo’s last encounter with the USO. She would work with the USO during her ARC service and she would later direct her own USO club back in Yakima after the war.

The Suksdorf sisters had received the same ARC letter as Flo and they would be staying at the same place while they went through the two-week training for overseas service workers. The Burlington Hotel was on 14th NW in downtown Washington, near the American University where they would attend training classes. The women succeeded in catching a cab to their destination, which was only a few blocks from the White House. 

The women knew not where in the world they would be sent to work, but they kept close track of the war, raging in countries around the world. In April, 1944, in Europe and the Pacific, the war heated up. Bombs were dropped on cities; on April 18, the Allies dropped more than 4000 tons of bombs over Germany, the highest single-day total of the war so far. Submarines, liberty ships and destroyers were torpedoed and sunk, British and Indian forces fought against a Japanese offensive, Japan launched a series of battles against China, and Soviet forces invaded Romania. Hungarian authorities ordered all Jews to wear the yellow star. On the Italian front, the bloody battle for Anzio advanced.

Chapter 8: https://mollymartin.blog/2025/02/05/of-mud-mules-and-mountains/

Surrounded by Nazis at the Volturno

Chapter 6: My Mother and Audie Murphy

October 1943. Murphy lands at Salerno during the Allied invasion of the mainland.

Clip from a Life Magazine story pasted in Flo’s WWII album

Italy has surrendered, and the road to Rome appears deceptively simple. Yet, the journey is anything but straightforward. Many thousands of lives will be lost on the road to the Eternal City.

“We land with undue optimism on the Italian mainland near Salerno. The beachhead, bought dearly with the blood and guts of the men who preceded us, is secure….We are prepared for a quick dash to Rome,” wrote Murphy in his autobiography, To Hell and Back.

This was far too optimistic. The Third Division will be fighting and dying on the Italian beaches and mainland until May, 1944.

The troops of the Third Division must first push through Salerno, cross the Volturno River, and take Anzio, Mignano, Cassino, and Cisterna before they can approach Rome.

Audie Murphy leads a small, diverse squad of men. Among them are an Italian immigrant, a Cherokee Indian manning the machine gun, an Irishman, a Pole, a Swede, and a Smoky Mountain bootlegger.

Members of Murphy’s squad begin to fall almost immediately. One soldier hesitates under heavy Nazi fire as he runs for a bridge and is cut down. The squad carries his body to the highway where it can be easily found.

“In death, he still bears the look of innocent wonder. He could not have lived long after tumbling. The bullet ripped an artery in his throat,” wrote Murphy.

Another fighter takes out a German machine gun nest and a foxhole with grenades, killing five Germans.

From Flo’s WWII album

The small victory is short-lived.

Later, the five remaining men find themselves trapped in a cave, surrounded by the enemy. The cave is infested with fleas, and the men are bitten mercilessly as they wait, parched and desperate.

We come to know and care for the men in Murphy’s squad, only to witness their deaths or injuries that force them out of the fight. Murphy becomes the last man standing at the end.

“All my life I wait to come to Italy,” says the Italian soldier. “I write my old man that the country stinks. Wait till you get to Rome, he says. Wait’ll you see your grandfather’s place. Then you’ll see the real Italy.”

The Italian never makes it to Rome. After three days without water, he breaks under the strain, running out of the cave only to be hit and killed by enemy fire. “He has come home to the soil that gave his parents birth,” wrote Murphy.

Finally, American troops break through the German lines and rescue the remaining men. Relief arrives with rations, water, and ammunition.

The next morning, they cross the Volturno River and join the push toward their next major objective: the communications center at Mignano.

Quotes are from Audie Murphy’s autobiography, To Hell and Back.

Chapter 7: https://mollymartin.blog/2025/01/30/train-to-d-c-april-1944/

You’ve Got Mail–March 31, 1944

Flo Scheduled for ARC Training in D.C.

My Mother and Audie Murphy Ch. 5

March 31, 1944 began as a black day in Yakima. Farmers had lit smudge pots in the orchards during the night to protect delicate buds from frost. The fuel, which included old tires, diesel oil and whatever could be found to burn, had left a black oily residue on the landscape. The white horse in the field down the street was now charcoal black. And the polluted air had seeped inside houses, coating everything. 

The local Yakima paper kept track of citizens in the war. From Flo’s album.

When Flo awoke and blew her nose, the snot was black. Still, for her the day was a happy one. In two weeks she would be in Washington D.C. starting a new job as an American Red Cross (ARC) staff assistant. Today she would tell her boss that next week would be her last. She would give herself a week to get to D.C., taking the train to Chicago and staying overnight there. It would be the start of an exciting adventure and she could hardly wait to get started. 

The ARC telegram that had come the day before said she would receive a letter with more details. She would have to send some telegrams herself to let friends and relatives know this good news. Her best friend, Molly, now working in Seattle, would need to know. And so would her sister Eve, stationed as a U.S. Army nurse at a hospital in Burford, England.

At work, the engineers were full of congratulations and good wishes. For them it was nothing new. Employers all over the country were having to deal with workers leaving for the war, either as draftees or volunteers. The U.S. had already been at war for more than two years, since Japan bombed Pearl Harbor December 7, 1941. The Europeans had been at war since September 1, 1939 when Germany invaded Poland.

A page in Flo’s WWII album

In January, 1944 the Third Infantry Division had landed at Anzio, Italy and the campaign had become a stalemate, costing heavy losses on both sides. The Allies would not rout the Nazis there until May.

Flo agreed to finish out the next week to train her stenographer replacement, and she was happy to have one more week’s pay, but now that she knew she was leaving, she couldn’t wait to be finished with the Washington State Highway Department. It had been a fine place to work for more than a decade, but she was ready for new challenges. And she would have many.

When she got home that evening, her sister Betty ran from the house waving an envelope. 

Flo, still in her coat, opened the envelope carefully, thinking she would save the letter for a future scrapbook. Her life was about to change and she wanted to remember this moment.

The letter was headed American Red Cross, Pacific Area, Civic Auditorium, San Francisco, California. It read:

“Dear Miss Wick:

This is to confirm our wire of yesterday offering you the position of Staff Assistant overseas.”

The “salary of $150 per month and maintenance” would be effective the day she was to report for training, April 17, 1944.  

“You are scheduled to report for training at National Headquarters, Washington, D.C., on Monday morning, April 17th. After a period of training and probation you will be assigned, as needs require, somewhere abroad. The location cannot be determined in advance. However, the Red Cross reserves the right either to release or transfer to domestic duties any person who, during training period, fails to meet the Red Cross or Army requirements for overseas duty.”

“Expenses of travel and maintenance in connection with the training program in Washington will be assumed by the Red Cross. A check will be issued sufficient to cover these expenses and will reach you shortly before the date scheduled for your departure. You should take immediate steps toward securing train reservations, using the enclosed tax exemption slips, which will place you in Washington on the morning of April 17th. You should purchase a one-way ticket from Yakima to Washington, D.C., making intermediate accommodations to Chicago, and first class from Chicago to Washington.”

 It was signed by (Miss) Esther Bristol, Assistant to the Director. The letter came with a list of “articles prepared by National Headquarters for the guidance of employees planning on entering foreign service.” The list of items included everything the ARC thought a woman would need for a year abroad, such as four girdles(!), sanitary napkins, and panties.

Flo resolved to do whatever was necessary to carry out her job to the best of her ability. She would respond by collect wire as instructed and then she would be officially in the Red Cross.

Their mother, Gerda, was in the kitchen cooking dinner for her daughters and their two boarders, female students at the community college. 

She promised her daughter that she would write, and keep her supplied with homemade Swedish cookies.

Chapter 6: https://mollymartin.blog/2025/01/24/the-battle-for-salerno/

Audie Murphy Fights to Fight

Chapter 4: He Sheds First Nazi Blood in Sicily

They nicknamed him Baby and he couldn’t shed the tag. Audie Murphy had to fight for his place in combat. From the beginning of his military journey, he faced skepticism at every turn. Rejected by the Marines and paratroops, he was finally accepted by the infantry. 

Battle route of the Third Infantry Division

Immediately his first commanding officer tried to shove him into a cook and baker’s school where the going would be less rough.

“That was the supreme humiliation. To reach for the stars and end up stirring a pot of C-rations. I would not do it. I swore that I would take the guardhouse first. My stubborn attitude paid off. I was allowed to keep my combat classification; and the Army was spared the disaster of having another fourth-class cook in its ranks,” he wrote in his autobiography.

In training, officers took one look at his skinny body and boyish face and tried to steer Murphy away from the front lines.  At Fort Meade, one well-meaning officer attempted to save him from combat altogether by assigning him a clerical position at the post exchange. Again he stuck to his guns.

In July, 1943 he made it to the front in Sicily, but his youth and appearance worked against him even there. He was transferred to headquarters to serve as a runner. But Murphy wouldn’t stay away from the action. He repeatedly sneaked off on patrols and scouting missions. His determination eventually forced his commander’s hand. He was promoted to corporal.

Life Magazine photo essay posted in Flo’s album

By then, Murphy had already missed his chance to fight in North Africa. His convoy had docked in Casablanca only after the battles were over. Instead of combat, he endured more training—much to his frustration. “I just wanted to fight,” he later said.  

Murphy finally got his chance in Sicily, but it was far from the glory he had imagined as a boy.  

On his first day in combat, a mortar attack killed a young soldier sitting nearby.  A boom, a whistle, the earth shakes, and the boy falls from the rock where he was sitting, just taking a break. As simple as that. One minute you’re sitting on a rock. The next minute you’re dead.  

This was not the war Murphy had dreamed of.  He had imagined men charging gallantly across flaming hills. Bugles blew, banners streamed, and the temperature was mild. Enemy bullets always miraculously missed, and his trusty rifle always hit home. As a kid, the dream was his escape from a grimly realistic world of poverty.

But now, as he trudged across the Sicilian battlefield, sweat soaking his uniform, his boyhood fantasies were shattered.  

“Maybe my notions about war are all cockeyed. How do you pit skill against skill if you cannot even see the enemy? Where is the glamour in blistered feet and a growling stomach? And where is the expected adventure? Well, whatever comes, it was my own idea. I had always wanted to be a soldier,” he wrote.  

His skill with a rifle, however, did not go unnoticed. In one skirmish, Murphy shot two German officers from their horses with two clean shots. He had shed his first blood. But he felt nothing except a weary indifference.

Even as malaria struck and forced him into a field hospital for a week, Murphy returned to the lines. The disease would haunt him throughout the war, but it didn’t stop him. 

He had loved the idea of war, but it didn’t take long to hate the real thing.

“The Sicilian campaign has taken the vinegar out of my spirit. I have seen war as it actually is, and I do not like it. But I will go on fighting,” he wrote.

*Quotes are from Audie Murphy’s autobiography, To Hell and Back

You’ve Got Mail–March 31, 1944

Flo Gets a Telegram

My Mother and Audie Murphy chapter 3

The winter of 1943-44 had been mild in Yakima with less than the usual snow. On March 30, some fruit trees already bloomed in the orchards of the Yakima Valley, but frost warnings loomed and could result in a smudge night with fires lit in the orchards to keep the buds from freezing. It was a Thursday and tomorrow would mark the last day of Flo’s workweek at the Washington State Highway Department where she had been a stenographer for 13 years. 

“You got a telegram!” sang her sister Betty as Flo pulled the car into the family driveway. 

Flo had been anticipating this telegram, eagerly awaiting news on her application to the American Red Cross (ARC) overseas program. She opened it carefully.

It read:

APPLICATION OVERSEAS STAFF ASSISTANT ACCEPTED. EMPLOYMENT CONTINGENT UPON RECEIPT AVAILABILITY CERTIFICATE. FORWARD TENTATIVELY SCHEDULED WASHINGTON TRAINING MONDAY APRIL 17TH. LETTER FOLLOWS=

                  ESTHER BRISTOL.==

Throwing her purse and coat on a chair in the entryway, Flo ran to the kitchen to show their mother, Gerda. 

Flo had signed up for the ARC program as soon as she’d heard about it. She badly wanted to be in Europe where her sister Eve was already working as an Army nurse. Eve had written that when their troop ship had docked in Guroch, Scotland on January 7, they were met by a clubmobile with ARC women handing out donuts and coffee. 

The ARC had rolled out the clubmobile model in England in 1942 with repurposed buses modified as mobile canteens and now the program was to be expanded into the European theater of the war. The clubmobile “donut girls” were envisioned as one element that would keep American soldiers willing to fight and die on foreign soil.

In February 1944, a Life magazine article had described the ARC women as “handpicked for looks, education, personality and experience in recreational fields. They are hardy physically and have a sociable, friendly manner.” The qualifications included a high level of education, being between 25 and 35 years old, an upbeat attitude, social skills, and good health. The women were chosen for their attractiveness, embodying the wholesome, well-scrubbed appearance of the girl next door. Nearly all were unmarried. Flo had immediately pictured herself among them.

Handing out donuts from the Life Magazine story

Flo and her youngest sister Betty still lived at home, contributing their earnings to the family kitty. Gerda had found work at a fruit processing plant, and they had taken in boarders to make ends meet since their father, Ben, had died five years earlier. Times had been tough, but their finances had stabilized, and the ARC job paid $150 a month. Flo could send most of her paycheck back home. 

Flo wondered what her father would have said, although she thought she knew the answer. Her father would have been proud of her decision to do her part for the war effort. He was a Norwegian immigrant, and a patriotic American.

To apply for the job of ARC overseas Staff Assistant, women were required to have at least two years of college education. White skin was an unwritten modifier, although there were some Black women recruited to work with segregated Black troops. Flo was 30 in 1944. She met the minimum qualifications except for the college education part. But Flo had mastered a skill that she would use throughout her life. She knew how to write a convincing letter. She was sure that she could show the ARC that she was just as qualified as any college educated woman.

The application process had been rigorous. Besides a written application, Flo included reference letters from her employers, the Presbyterian minister, and members of the Business Professional and YWCA groups where she was active. She passed a medical fitness exam and traveled to Seattle for an in-person interview.

Pasted in Flo’s album from the Life Magazine story

Flo understood that the college requirement was based on class. The ARC aimed to hire middle or upper-class “girls.” In her application letter, Flo emphasized her middle-class status, morality, and responsibility as a church-going citizen. During the interview, she felt they had been impressed.

Other opportunities existed for women to become involved in the war, but most were situated in the U.S. You could volunteer to roll bandages, but for that you received no pay, so those who volunteered tended to be women of means or women supported by husbands. You could join the Women’s Auxiliary Army Corps (WAC), which did pay a salary about the same as the ARC. But WAC was not well thought of only because many people did not believe women should be involved in war, or even serve close to it. Few WACs were sent overseas, mostly performing office work to free men for combat roles.

The ARC flew under the radar because, even though the jobs were paid, the women were referred to as “girls” and “volunteers.” And the ARC was associated with nursing, which incited no prejudice. It was ok for women to take care of wounded soldiers as long as they weren’t allowed to fire the guns. As it turned out, the ARC women would be the first American women to fire guns in combat and Flo would be among them.

Flo knew she could be sent anywhere the war raged: the Pacific, England, North Africa, even India. She hoped for Europe where most of the fighting was. She had always dreamed of traveling to Europe. But she resolved to accept with enthusiasm whatever her assignment turned out to be.

Chapter 4: https://mollymartin.blog/2025/01/13/audie-murphy-fights-to-fight/

A Photo Album Tells the Story

My mother and Audie Murphy Chapter 2

The photo album that my mother, Flo Wick, shared with Audie Murphy when they reconnected in 1955 is massive. The scrapbook is filled with photographs, newspaper clippings, letters, and travel paraphernalia and it tells the story of Mom’s two years as an American Red Cross (ARC) “donut girl” in Europe during World War II. 

It also tells the story of the Third Infantry Division, the only American division that fought the Nazis on every front—North Africa, Sicily, Italy, France, and Germany. “The Fightin’ Third” had more casualties—nearly 35,000—than any other division, and it holds the record for high combat citations. 

Throughout our childhoods my brothers and I pulled out the album, looked through it, and listened to our mother’s war stories. We kids especially liked the sketches by Flo’s comrade Liz Elliott of the everyday lives of the “donut gals.”

When my mother died in 1983 at the age of 70, I claimed the album and it’s been stored in garages and closets ever since, occasionally brought out for perusal by relatives or friends with an interest in World War II. For a time, it lived in a mold-infected storage room and so it was infected along with other archives. I exposed each page to sunlight in an effort to reduce the mold and that helped, but when I really wanted to examine the book, I donned a respirator to avoid breathing in clouds of invisible mold spores.

Mom was a scrapbook maker and for that I am now grateful as I try to piece together the events of her life during the war. Perhaps she had the idea for the album even before she sailed to Europe on a hospital ship in May 1944. I do know that the act of putting it together when she returned home after the war in 1946 salved her sadness at the deaths of so many and helped her readjust to life stateside where it seemed Americans had moved on and no longer wanted to think or talk about the war.

Recently I went through the album page by page, photographing all. That’s when I discovered that Flo had had a friendship with Audie Murphy that began somewhere in France when she served him donuts and continued after the war.

This story follows two narratives: one chronicles Flo Wick and the other chronicles Audie Murphy. They were both attached to the Third Division but mostly in different parts of the North African and European theaters. Their paths intersect in the Vosges mountains of France and as the Third pushed its way into Germany. For Audie’s tale I’m referencing his autobiography To Hell and Back, as well as letters and artifacts saved in Flo’s album.

A Little Background

She came of age during the Depression

Born in 1913, Florence Wick had graduated high school at 16 after being allowed to skip ahead a grade. Her class graduated in 1929½. Flo was excited about the prospect of going to college. She planned to enroll at the state college, but the Great Depression intervened. Instead, she completed a secretarial course at a trade school. At 17 she started working to help support her family. In 1931 she found a job as a stenographer for the Washington State Department of Highways. 

Flo (R) at the Highway Dept.

By the time she learned about the ARC program, Flo had been working full time at that job for more than a decade. No doubt she was ready to do something else—maybe anything else. This seemed like an opportunity to travel outside of Washington State and to see other places in the world. And she was anxious to help the war effort.

He always wanted to be a soldier

Flo’s photo of Audie 1945

Even as a little boy Audie Murphy had wanted to be a soldier. His share cropper father abandoned his mother and their children leaving the family destitute. Then, when he was 16, his mother died. Born in 1925, the seventh of twelve kids, Audie tried to provide for the others, dropping out of school in fifth grade to pick cotton for a dollar a day. But he knew he had to get out of Farmersville, Texas. He tried to join the paratroopers and the Marines, but was told he was too short at five feet five. The Army took him and trained him to be a soldier. The baby-faced kid earned the nickname Baby. He was already a good shot, having fed the family with wild game. He couldn’t wait to shoot the enemy.

Murphy was assigned to the Third Division, then part of the Third Army under the command of General George Patton. He joined them in Sicily in 1943, on the way from Morocco and North Africa. They would fight their way through Italy and France into Germany. Murphy would be one of a very few of his company left standing and would become the most decorated American soldier of the war.

Chapter 3 https://mollymartin.blog/2025/01/07/flo-gets-a-telegram/

Provenance of a Family Heirloom

How our Norwegian cousin solved the mystery

As I pulled down the box of Solstice ornaments from a high shelf in the garage, I wondered about the provenance of a pair of candlesticks. They were grungy from years of use, the brass darkened with candle wax. I thought Mom said they were from our Norwegian grandfather, who left Norway as a teenager and never went back. Did he bring them with him when he immigrated to the U.S.?

 Looking carefully at the base I could see the maker’s mark stamped there. The letters SB, then a crown, then No 5. I went online and looked through databases of metalworks. That got me nowhere, so I asked my brother Don if he had any information. He didn’t remember the candlesticks but did remember that he’d discovered a Norwegian cousin on Ancestry who still lives near our grandfather’s place of birth. Their correspondence follows.

8. des. 2024 Don Orr Martin

To: Rune Aalberg

A question from your cousin in Canada (Don now lives in Vancouver B.C.)

Hello Rune–

We emailed each other a couple of years ago about shared genealogy. I am one of the Wick relatives (along with Shelly Harris). My grandfather from Klokkervik was Ben Wick (Bernt Evensen). 

My sister Molly recently remembered two candle holders that she was told by our mother belonged to Ben. She got them out of storage and plans to clean them up and use them. We suspect they were brought to the US from Norway in the 1890s, but have no documentation. I am attaching 3 photos Molly sent me. She has been trying to identify the foundry markings without any luck. We wondered if you might have access to internet search information in Norway about these markings on the bottoms of the candlesticks. Probably brass. We are curious about their origin. 

Your cousin,

Don

8. des. 2024 Rune Aalberg 

Hi, Don!

The time runs fast, and I have seen your box in my e-mail App, but I have been busy with collecting names to the database on my father’s side. Never ending work /research.

I have announced on Facebook that someone in Canada wants to know about the candle lights. The mark SB should be easy to find for the right person. If not I go to a jeweler and ask there.

I hope the winter time is kind to you. Here we still see the green areas, but have also had a couple of white days.

Until next time
Enjoy the Christmas time

Sun, Dec 8, 2024 Rune Aalberg 

Hi!
I have sent an e-mail to Swedish Skultuna. Yours are very look alike. Long link:

https://www.careofcarl.no/no/skultuna-the-office-candlestick-brass?channable=0091cc696400313232393838313051&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=S%20/%202%20/%20Index,%20Near-index,%20Potential&gad_source=1

Exiting. 😎

9. des. 2024 Don Orr Martin 

Thanks Rune. I really appreciate your help in tracking down the origin of these heirlooms. The link does indeed look a lot like the ones Molly has. It is very possible they are from Sweden where our grandmother lived until she was 17.  

Our early winter has been pretty mild so far. No snow yet except in the nearby mountains. Lots of salmon returning to the rivers here. John and I love to hike the many trails in parks along the ocean and the local rivers. We are looking forward to our annual trip to Baja, Mexico. We’ll spend 2 months from late January to late March. It’s about a 3,000K drive one way, but a very interesting trip once you get past the US.

Hope you have a pleasant holiday,

Don

From: Rune Aalberg 
Date: Tue, Dec 10, 2024
Hi!
I have not got an answer from the company, but a response on FB says it is this company:
https://skultuna.com/en-no

Buy more 😉

SB = Skultuna Bruk (bruk can mean a farm, to use or meant for using, and they made products for daily usage).
The crown mark is the swedish one.
Take care of the candle lights and yourself, of course 🤗
Time to sleep for Rune 🥱

Our Norwegian cousin was right. The candlesticks are Swedish, made by a foundry that still exists and still sells the exact same product. We imagine that our grandmother, Gerda Wick (Persson), brought them with her when she immigrated to the U.S. in 1905. Candlesticks would have been a necessity before the advent of electric light.

From the Skultuna website:

Four centuries in the same place

The year was 1607, and King Karl IX could at last implement his long held plans for a Swedish brass industry. Refining copper into brass would reduce imports of brass and increase income from exports. The King had a man sent off on the Crown’s business to find a suitable location for a brass foundry, the choice fell on Skultuna, where the Svartån brook provided sufficient water power. Today, over four centuries later, the company still resides in the very same place in Skultuna. The first master braziers were called here from the brass foundries in Germany and the Netherlands, they also brought the technique on how to make large brass objects like chandeliers. The oldest known chandelier is in the Church of Our Lady in Enköping and is dated 1619. The journey throughout history has been rough at times, once the whole factory floated away with the spring flood and it has burnt down completely on at least three occasions.

Today you can follow them on Instagram, facebook and tiktok.

God jul to all