The Bluffton news. [volume], March 15, 1945, Image 7

About The Bluffton news. [volume] (Bluffton, Ohio) 1875-current

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THURSDAY, MARCH 15, 1945
SYNOPSIS
CHAPTER 1: Scott’s early experiences
with gliders and airplanes. He goes to
FL McPherson and enlists in the regular
army as a private.
CHAPTER H: Scott wins the West
Point competitive exam and gets a fur*
lough before reporting He is graduated
as a second lieutenant of infantry and
goes to Europe, which he tours on a
motorcycle He sells his motorcycle and
arrives at Randolph Field. Texas
CHAPTER Hl: Scott makes his first
solo flight. Drives 1,300 miles to Georgia
over every week-end to see his girl. Scott
is now graduated from Kelly Field find
has wings pinned on his chest. Ordered
to report to Hawaii but wanting to get
married he lays his plight before the
General and is ordered to report at
Mitchel Field. N Y.. instead.
CHAPTER IV: En route to New York
Scott is stopped by police who mistake
him for a bandit. He carries the mail
for Unci» Sam in order to gain more
flying time, and gets married
CHAPTER V: The war edges closer
and he is farther than ever from combat
duty. He has been told he is too old
for combat flying, and after December 7.
1941, he begins writing Generals all over
the country for a chance to fly a fighter
plane.
CHAPTER VI: seott solos a Flying
Fortress for the first time and makes
twenty practice landings. He leaves for
India from a Florida point
CHAPTER VII: Easter Sunday in Af
rica. They fly along the Arabian coast
and land at Karachi. India, covering
12,000 miles in eight days.
CHAPTER VIII: Col. Haynes orders
the group to report at a base in Eastern
Assam, on the India-Burma border.
CHAPTER IX: Burma is falling into
the hands of the Japs. Flying over
bombed and burned Chinese towns they
land at Schwebo. Scott meets General
Stilwell and his party.
CHAPTER X: Scott’s group carries
refugees out of Burma, heavily overload
ing the planes. He pays a visit to Gen.
Chennault and tells him he is a fighter
pilot and not a ferry pilot and is prom
ised the next P-40 that arrives from
Africa.
CHAPTER XI: Open season on Japs—
the big adventure is near. Scott gets
his first Jap—an army bomber on the
ground. He burns up some Jap trucks
and a fuel dump.
CHAPTER Xn
After following the Salween to the
South until I could see Lashio, I
turned West for the field and came
in right on the treetops, strafing the
anti-aircraft guns in two passes. On
the second run across the field I felt
and heard bullets hitting my ship,
but didn’t see their origin until near
ly too late. Down close to the West
end of the field, almost under the
trees, were Japanese ground sol
diers. They were grouped into two
squares like the old Macedonian pha
lanx, and were firing rifles at me. I
turned my guns on them and could
see the fifty-calibre fire taking good
toll from the Jap ranks. But even
after I had made three runs on
them, I noted that they continued to
hold their positions, an excellent
demonstration of perfect battle dis
cipline. Later on one of the AVG
aces, Tex Hill, told me that he had
seen the same thing down in Thai
land, and that after he’d strafed one
of the squares of about a hundred
men and there were only two or
three on their feet, those few still
were shooting at him when he left
the field.
Leaving Lashio, I went to Katha
looking for a Jap train on the rail
way, but succeeded only in gather
ing a little more ground fire. From
there I went back North to Bhamo,
and seeing no barges, continued on
to Myitkyina, keeping very close to
the surface of the Irrawaddy, and
strafed the gun positions of the ene
my on the field with the last of my
ammunition. When I landed I had
made almost eight hundred miles,
which is just about the limit for a
fighter ship, especially since I had
strafed at full throttle for several
minutes. There were a few holes
in my ship, but mostly in the fabric
of the rudder and the flippers. The
Japs couldn’t learn to lead me
enough I guess they’d never hunted
game birds.
In less than an hour I took off
again and made a shorter trip to
Mogaung and Katha, searching
without success for a train. After
getting more fuel I went back and
strafed Myitkyina, turned South, and
caught a barge of enemy equipment
at Bhamo. Though I didn’t sink this
river boat, I put at least eight hun
dred rounds of ammunition in it,
and left it settling in the water and
drifting slowly with the current. The
crew either were killed or jumped
into the river.
And now, to close the big day, I
got in the air again and set my
course for the bridge on the Sal
ween about twenty miles West of
Paoshan. I had received a radio
report that the AVG under Tom
Jones, Bishop, and Tex Hill were
dive-bombing the Japs who were
constructing a pontoon bridge there.
Reaching the rendezvous point, I
couldn’t see a thing except some
burning trucks that the AVG had
strafed on the Jap side of the Sal
ween evidently I had got to the bat
tle too late.
I had turned South towards Lashio
and was flying through a moderate
rain when, down below on the Bur
ma Road, I saw a troop column
marching South, probably towards
Chefang. At this point the Burma
Road is about eight thousand feet
above sea level, rising nearby to its
ceiling, just over nine thousand feet.
The troops below me were Japa
nese soldiers, evidently retreating
from the mauling they had taken
back there on the river, when the
AVG had bombed them with five
hundred-pound bombs. I turned to
the^sideK to watch them—they were
GOD IS MY
CO-PILOT
Cot. Robert L.Scoff
WN.U RELtASi
In heavy rain, and from the stand
point of their own safety they were
in the worst possible place on the
road. The Burma Road was cut out
of red Yunnan clay, and there were
steep banks on both sides of the
column—besides I don’t think they
had heard me over the roar of the
rain, and I know they hadn’t seen
my ship.
I turned my gun switches on and
dove for the kill, sighting carefully
through my lighted sight. My trac
ers struck the target dead center,
for I had held my fire until the
last mome: There was no need of
doing this job at high speed, for
if I merely cruised I’d have longer
to s \^t at thorn and could also look
out the hills hidden in the rain
and the clouds. This time there w*as
no dust, but the red, muddy water
went up like a geyser. The six
Fifties seemed to cut the column to
bits. As I passed over, I could see
those who hadn’t been hit trying
desperately to crawl up the muddy
bank to the safety of the trees and
slipping back.
Turning very close to the hills, I
came back over. Every now and
then I’d lose them, for the rain was
heavy and it was dark in the clouds,
so dark that my tracers burned bril
liant to the ground and then rico
cheted away into the air again, still
burning. I think it was in my third
pass, as the Japs seemed to be giv
ing up the effort to climb off the
road, that I decided my ship would
be called "Old Exterminator.’’
Their officers must have called
double-time, for they spread out as
much as they could and ran South
on the road through the rain. I kept
on cutting them to pieces until my
ammunition was gone I fired 1,890
rounds into those tziree or four hun
dred Japanese, and I don't think
more than a handful escaped.
Rather tired from ten hours’ flying
that day, all combat, I went back
home excited but somewhat on the
thoughtful side. It had taken me
about two weeks of flying this ship
to realize what a weapon it really
was. I had just seen it cut a Japa
nese battalion to bits, had seen the
firepower of one American airplane
leave three or four hundred dead
and dying enemy soldiers in the mud
of the Burma Road. As I listened
to the roar of that Allison engine
and patted the gun-sight affection
ately, "Old Exterminator” was
more than ever a character to me—
it wTas an institution. I knew right
then that this ship was almost a hu
man being.
As the May days drifted into
weeks, I made up little schemes to
fool the Japs. Perhaps the schemes
worked, perhaps they didn’t—-any
way they eased the disappointment
of not getting letters from my wife
and little girl and from the other
folks back home.
I’d make my two, three, or four
mission flights a day with the fight
er. But I’d go early in the morn
ing with the spinner on the
"shark’s” nose painted white, and
I’d attack Lashio or Mogaung from
the South. Later in the morning
I’d strike from the West, with the
spinner painted blue. After lunch
the eager painters or my drafted
crewmen would have the spinner
another color for my flight. By the
time I made the fourth sortie, with
the spinner a fourth color and my
approach from a fourth direction,
I’m sure the Japs didn't know where
I came from—and most certainly
they didn’t guess that the American
fighter force in Assam was com
posed of one single Kittyhawk. If
they had, they would have been
forced to do something to "save
face.” For at the moment, with me
drunk with the wine of my first
combat, the Jap was losing face.
During this month I went to China
as much as possible to talk to mem
bers of the AVG. Some of these pi
lots I had taught to fly in the Army
Schools back home. I had checked
quite a few of them and I was old
er, but I’m glad I realized then
Symbol of the American Volunteer
Group "Flying Tigers”, which
made aerial combat history over
China and Burma when the Japs
were having their inning. The AVG
was later inducted into the Army
Air Corps, with General Claire
Chennault as commander.
that these younger pilots knew a
million times more about combat
than I did. I’d corner some of these
Flying Tigers and ask them ques
tions, for I longed for the day when
I’d get to fly on attacking missions
with them.
At first they were hard to know.
The men they had met as represent
ing our Army in China had been
pretty harsh with these high-strung
flyer?, who after all had done the
greatest job in the war against the
enemy. In the beginning they were
reluctant to answer my questions or
tell me the secrets of their success
in combat. They couldn’t understand
why a Colonel in the Army Air
Corps had to know anything. As
George Paxton put it: Didn’t the
Army know everything? "Seems
like to me,” he said, "every army
officer we’ve seen out here knows
all the answers.”
When he found out that I was se
rious, and that my ambition was to
get over there and fly with them,
and learn combat from them, so
that in the end I might teach it to
our younger pilots who would be
coming out, he told me things that I
would never have learned otherwise.
"First,” he said, leading me off
under the wing of one of the P-40’s,
"first, the Old Man says, never turn
with one of the Zeros. He says
that’s bad.”
I learned that the Jap ship would
outmaneuver anything and would
outclimb the P-40 four to one. "But
that doesn’t matter,” Paxton said.
"The P-40 is the strongest ship in
the world. It’s heavy as hell, but
that makes it out-dive just about
anything, and it’ll out-dive the Jap
two to one. With those two Fifties
and the four thirty-caliber guns in
the B’s we have done pretty good.
Now with the six Fifties in the new
Kittyhawks we out-gun anything.”
He told me that Hill, Rector, Bond,
Neal, Lawler, and other aces had
seen Zeros disintegrate in front of
thbir six Fifties, and went on to ad
vise that I use the good qualities of
the P-40’s against the bad qualities
of the Jap, but never try to beat him
at his own game—climbjng and ma
neuverability.
Paxton did me a lot oi good—he
got me my first flight with the AVG
on the Emperor’s birthday. But the
Jap didn’t come in. We were the
most griped bunch you’ve ever seen.
Everyone up and waiting at three
a. m.—and then the dirty so-and
so’s didn’t have the guts to come in!
I heard a story on George Paxton
that will show you the kind of tough
Texan he was. It was down over
Rangoon, near Mingaladon air
drome, in the early days of the Bur
ma war. Doctor Gentry, who told
me the story, said that the squadron
George was in was aloft and engag
ing the Japanese over the field. Look
ing upstairs, you could see the con
densation streamers criss-crossing
the sky, and every now and then a
trail of smoke as a Jap Zero burned
and plunged towards the earth.
Finally eight or nine Zeros ganged
up on George Paxton. They got
on his tail and they got all over him.
He fought his way partially out of
the trap, but two of them right on
his tail literally shot him to pieces.
George’s ship was seen to trail
smoke and dive straight down, from
about fifteen thousand feet. Doctor
Gentry said they watched the strick
en Forty and knew who it was by
the number. As it disappeared be
hind the trees they mentally crossed
the boy Paxton off their list of liv
ing men.
But George and the sturdy P-40
were not through. There was the
surging scream of an Allison en
gine’s last boost, and the ship
skimmed over the trees and made
a belly landing on the soft part of
the field. Even then, considering
the number of Japs who had been
using George for target practice
and the way the ship looked, with
big holes in the tail, wings, and fuse
lage, as they drove out for him in
the jeep they expected to find just a
body.
Instead, they found George Pax
ton standing by the side of his ship,
swearing and shaking his fist at the
sky.
Doctor Gentry said he looked into
the cockpit. The instrument panel
was just about shot away, the rud
der pedals were partly shot to
pieces, the armor of the pilot’s seat
was badly bent—but Paxton w’as out
there yelling:
"I still say those little bastards
can’t shoot!”
Even his Texas boots w’ere practi
cally shot off. Two doctors picked
rivets from George’s back all the
afternoon, and Jap explosive parti
cles from his feet, legs and hands.
The w’orst injuries had been caused
by the Japanese explosive bullets
hitting the seat armor and driving
the rivets through into George’s
back. But for the armor, those ex
plosives would have been in Pax-'
ton’s back, instead of just the rivets.
On May 17, I flew with the AVG on
a mission from Kunming into Indo
China. Squadron Leader Bishop led
the attack. I flew the wing position
with R. T. Smith, one of the aces of
the Flying Tigers and one of the
pilots I remembered checking dur
ing his training days at Santa Ma
ria, California.
We got off the Kunming field with
our fighters and headed South over
the lakes at twelve thousand feet.
In a few minutes we passed Meng
tze and the clouds thinned out and
the weather got pretty clear. We
went just about over Laokay, on
the Chinese-Indo-China border. Then
we followed the River Rouge
through the very crooked gorge in
the mountains, on South towards Ha
noi.
Just about halfway between the
border and Hanoi we saw a train
coming North on the railroad. Bish
op led four of us down to strafe it
while the other four stayed at twelve
thousand for top-cover. We circled
over the train as we spiralled down
to attack, and while the speed of
the dive built up I got my gun
switch on and tried to trim the ship
for the jncreasing speed.
As we levelled off and went in
for the kill, I saw Bishop’s tracers
hitting the engine. By the time I
got there—in number two position,
on Bishop’s wing now—the white
steam was spraying from the punc
tured boiler. I saw the engineer and
fireman jump from the locomotive,
and as we went on down the cars,
shooting into them, I saw Jap sol
diers and probably Vichy French
civilians jumping off too. We came
back and set some of the cars on
fitex JL_wa§. a.Xincli nowu fqr the
THE BLUFFTON NEWS, BLUFFT
March—the month that is supposed
to come in like a lamb and go out like
a lion isn’t doing too badly ... or per
haps we were so used to snowdrifts
and sieet storms that anything else
looks good anyway it’s getting
near housecleaning time and some
hary souls have planted their early
garden and here’s St. Patrick’s
day coming Saturday—that’s the day
the oldtimers will tell you is the time
to plant sweet peas. and it’s also
the 93rd birthday of Mrs. J. W. Ba
singer, and of her son Dr. Evan Ba
singer, Bluffton dentist and fresh
strawberries from the south on the
Bluffton market and speaking of
the south, the Ross Bogarts are en
route home after a couple of months
in Florida and Easter bunnies and
egg dyes in the shop windows and
going into our jeans for the where
withal to buy another auto tag adds
another somber note to the Lenten
season and Thursday is the dead
line for mailing income tax reports—
and the boys are filing them with their
fingers crossed, hoping everything is
O. K. and interest in fishing pick
ing up with the coming of warmer
weather—and from the size of our
dwindling coal pile, warm weather
can’t come any too soon.
If you’re expecting to live in San
Francisco, it might be a wise precau
tion to make the trip in a trailer and
plan to live in it after you arrive.
Just how serious is the housing short
age there was learned by Maynard
Mann, former Bluffton resident and
son of Mrs. Edith Mann, who recently
was named manager of the San Fran
cisco branch of a printing machinery
concern. Mann, who has been living
in Cleveland had expected to move his
family to California but abandoned
the plan for the present, at least after
he and his wife on a preliminary trip
to San Francisco were unable to find
housing accommodations.
And speaking of California, comes
word from Mrs. Florence Highland
Murphy of May wood, a Los Angeles
suburb who says their rainy and cold
season has begun. It hailed at Long
Beach on March 2, she writes: The
rain, however, was much needed, she
says. Mrs. Murphy is the daughter
of Mr. and Mrs. Dave Highland, who
lived here some thirty years ago on
South Lawn avenue in the property
now occupied by Amiel Amstutz.
Mrs. Murphy is a cousin of Kermit
Kibele and her father who was em
ployed in the oil field here lives with
her and is in his eighties.
You’ve heard of Lady Luck smiling
—well, she did more than that in
Bluffton last Saturday—she laughed
out loud. Here’s what happened: Ed
gar Flock, Nickel Plate section man
who rooms at Oscar Lora’s on South
Main street lost his billfold in the af
ternoon containing $350, presumably
in the downtown business district. A
search failed to reveal the missing
money, but when Flock changed
clothes later in the afternoon he dis
covered the billfold cozily resting in
his overshoe. How the billfold got
there wasn’t so much of a mystery
when Flock explained that he was
wearing two pairs of overalls and for
safety’s sake intended to put the mon
ey in the hip pocket of the inner pair.
Apparently he missed the pocket and
the billfold slid down his pants leg,
unnoticed, and dropped into the over
shoe.
Apparently there has been some
confusion among Bluffton motorists as
to w’here auto tags are being sold.
This year they are issued at the News
stand operated by Harold Montgom
ery—not at the News office.
If you have a shortwave radio set,
train had stopped and was no longer
weaving through the narrow curves
of the gorge.
While the boys talked to one an
other, we re-formed and I heard
Bishop say, "Let’s bomb the rail
road yards at Laokay with our
frags.” (Fragmentation bombs.) I
thought then that was wrong, for we
had alerted Laokay as we flew over
and they were probably listening to
us and would be waiting for us.
That didn’t matter, though we’d get
the railroad yards and some of the
anti-aircraft crews too, if they didn’t
look out.
We spiralled down to bomb the
target and I saw Bishop’s bombs hit
dead center on the round-house.
Then I dropped mine. Just at that
instant Bishop’s fighter belched fire
and smoke, and I saw him slide his
canopy open and jump. His chute
opened so close in front of my ship
that I pulled up for fear I’d run into
it. I hung there for what seemed
like hours, with my air speed indi
cating three hundred miles an hour,
while black bursts of anti-aircraft
fire broke all around me. The ship
just seemed to stand still, but I
saw Bishop floating down towards
the river that was the boundary
between China and Indo-China. At
the very last moment, as I got my
nose down and got out of the cen
ter of the anti-aircraft, I saw an
unlucky wind blow the chute back
to the Indo-Chinese or Jap side of
the river, and Bishop was captured.
We heard from him later that he
was really a prisoner of the French
and was getting along all right.
We re-formed North of Laokay
and went back to Kunming. General
Chennault said that the train wasn’t
worth Bishop—we should have left
Laokay alone.
IN, OHIO
KEEP YOUR
tune in next Tuesday night at 11:30
eastern war time and hear a tran
scribed radio program coming from
Quito, Ecuador. The program is tras
scribed from a broadcast originating
in Tacoma, Washington, directed by
J. W. Bixel, former Bluffton man and
veteran chorus director whose North
west Radio Chorus is heard regularly
over Mutual, station KMO, Tacoma.
The transcribed program will be heard
from Quito shortwave station HCJB
kilocyscle 12445 between 12 and 13 on
the shortwave dial.
Pfc. Harry Edinger, formerly of
Bluffton who was studying for the
ministry’ at Bowling Green university
when he was drafted into the army is
now in England where he is continu
ing his preparation for the ministry’
by filling several pulpits recently.
Edinger who intends to enter the min
istry of the United Brethren denomi
nation after the war has spoken in
Baptist and Congregational churches
in England. He is the son of Scott
Edinger, living east of town, was
formerly employed at the Triplett
plant and is well remembered by many
friends here. His wife, the former
Meredith Montgomery of Orange
township is teaching in Rawson high
school.
And from Columbus comes a sub
scription lenewal from Mrs. John J.
Reiss, former Bluffton resident with
word that the Bluffton News is always
a welcome week end visitor in their
home.
Comes to this columnist an issue of
“Muzzle Blast,” a tabloid publication
issued semi-monthly by the Naval Air
Gunners School at Miami, Florida, in
which appears a picture of Genald
“Tuffy” Swank, adminstering a G. I.
haircut to one of the enlisted person
nel. Tuffy, erstwhile Bluffton barber,
who closed his shop here and joined
the navy now has a chair in a mod
ern and up to date barbershop main
tained by the navy at Miami for its
service men.
A picture appearing in many news
papers in this country’ showing a
group of American soldiers in Holland
caring for Dutch war refugee child
ren has attracted more than ordinary
attention here as one of the soldiers
is believed to be Cpl. James Gilbert,
son of Mr. and Mrs. M. L. Gilbert of
Orange township. A letter recently
received here from Cpl. Gilbert told
home folks to watch the papers for
something interesting and relatives
here say they identified him as one
of the group of American doughboys.
When the picture was taken the
Americans were attempting to teach
the Dutch children a few words in
English.
First spring tillage in the Bluffton
district got under way Tuesday with
the arrival of warm weather and
clearing skies. Snowdrifts of a month
ago have disappeared and on several
farms maple syrup is being made on
a small scale for home consumption.
Several more day’s of warm and dry
weather will find tillage under way in
the Bluffton area on a large scale.
Seed inoculation adds several bush
els per acre to soybean yields.
RED CROSS
kAT HIS SIDE
Through the Red Cross the American people serve the men of
Army’ NaTy» Mar»ne Corps and Coast Guard. This 1945 War
Fund poster reproduction symbolizes Red Cross service with the
Army.
LaFayette
Reo Selover of Manchester, Mich.,
and Mrs. Yola Van Orsdall of Van
couver, B. C. have been visiting their
sister, Mrs. Clyde Snyder and family.
The Past Matron's Circle of La
fayette, Eastern Star Chapter Num
ber 1210 met in the home of Mrs.
Edna Hall Saturday evening. The
following members were present:
Mrs. Hallie fook and daughter, Mrs.
Blanche Heiser, Mrs. Ethel Heiser,
Mrs. Helen Greenwait, Mrs. Daisy
Ludw, Mrs. Marie White, Mrs. Daisy
Heiser, Mrs. Irene Boyd, Mrs. Rose
Stevenson and granddaughter, Mrs.
Fannie Bergman, Mrs. Mary Whet-
you'll do better
when you sell your
CARLOAD
Cream, Eggs & Poultry
at a Home Owned Station
We pay highest market price—and you will find here
quick service—-no long waits—we’re always on the job.
Drive up to our station next to town hall and sound
your horn—we’ll do the rest.
The K & Produce Co.
Robert Murray Charles Kinsinger
Next to Town Hall Bluffton phone 492-W
save]5*■■■SALE
with this coupon when
you buy a 25-lb. bag of
Pillsbury's Best
flour
CU*0***
Tow*
Practise Typing Paper
Standard Size 8 1-2 11 Inches
50C Sheets .. 4€c
(No Broken Packages)
Eluffton News Office
PAGE SEVEN
■±.1... J..........■L1!.,™........................■"■■as
stone, Mrs. Dorothy Hall and sons,
Mrs. Martha Hiett, Mrs. Anna Coch
ensparger.
Mrs. Yola Van Orsdall of Vancouv
er, British Columbia, Reno Selover
of Manchester, Michigan, Ronny
Snyder of Lima, Miss Lilly Selover,
Mr. and Mrs. Clyde Snyder, Mr. and
Mrs. Hershel Snyder and daughters,
Mr. and Mrs. S. L. Carey and sons
were Sunday guests of Mr. and M»“S.
.W. Selover of Ada.
Mrs. Mabel Grady, Mrs. Thelma
Stoodt and Mrs. Fieda Arthur at
tended a meeting of W. S. C. S. of
Liberty Chapel at the home of Mrs.
Beatrice Rumbaugh, Wednesday.
Mrs. Florence Staley, Mrs. Lula
Roberts, Mrs. Maxine Boyd, Mrs.
Imogene Guthrie, Mrs. Gail Young,
Mrs. Naomi Benroth, Mrs. Ruby
Long, Mrs. Ada Lontzenheizer, Mrs.
Clara Welty, Mrs. Etta Guthrie and
Miss Jennie Robert were Wednesday
guests of Mrs. Blanche Thompson.
Mr. and Mrs. I. N. Desenberg and
Mr. and Mrs. Chet Van Hom of Gal
ion were Sunday callers of Mr. and
Mrs. T. W. Desenberg and Mr. and
Mrs. Frank Fisher.
Mrs. Alice Stober and Clarence
Stober were Thursday evening guests
of Mr. and Mrs. J. H. Guthrie.
Ronnye and Clifford Black of Spen
cerville were Wednesday evening
guests of Mrs. Josie Hall.
Mrs. Mabel Huser of Bluffton was
a Wednesday evening guest of Mr.
and Mrs. B. F. Hall.
Mr. and Mrs. Russell Hawk were
Sunday guests of Mr. and Mrs. Min
or Peterson.
Janice Black of Spencerville was a
Wednesday evening guest of Karen
Schumacher.
William Brown of Lima is visiting
Mr. and Mrs. E. L. Roberts.
Honoring Virginia Guthrie and
Mrs. Blake Guthrie, Mr. and Mrs.
Ray Altenbach of Lima entertained
in their home Sunday, Mr. and Mrs.
Blake Guthie and children, Mrs. Max
ine Weber, Mr. and Mrs. J. H. Brew
er and Mrs. Bernadine Ackerman.
Mr. and Mrs. Jack Witham and
son left Friday for Washington, D.
C.
Swift
n»«-
PILLSBURY MILLS, Inc.
MINNEAPOLIS