Here is the full reference card for this book...
If you'd rather place an order by talking to one of our cheerful order desk clerks, please call 1-888-232-4444 (USA and Canada only) or 250-383-6864. From Europe, ring our UK order desk clerk at local rate number 0845 230 9601 (UK only) or 44 (0)1865 722 113.
1. Letters to Libby: Part One
by Joseph A. White II
610 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-1173; ISBN 1-4120-0805-0; US$42.00, C$48.00, EUR34.50, £24.00
Engine trouble, inlcimate weather, being bombed and strafed, friendly fire, field life and c-rations... All in a day's work for a troop-carrier and transport pilot.
Read more!
About the Book About the Author Excerpts Catalogue Information
About the Book
Letters to Libby/ Part One is part one of a three part series. The books are comprised of edited letters written by Joseph A. White to his wife (Elizabeth T. White ["Libby"]) during World War II. The letters in Part One chronicle a tale beginning in the U.S. in Presque Isle, Maine (September, 1942), and ending in Goubrine, Tunisia (August, 1943). The sorrow of parting, the misery of separation, the vicissitudes of Army-Air Corps life; all are themes well explored, and overcome by faith in God and the love between a man and a woman.
About the Author
Joseph A. White was born in Mebane, North Carolina on February 28, 1918 to Joseph and Lillian White. He spent his childhood years in Greensboro, North Carolina where he met his wife to be (B. Elizabeth Taylor; daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Raymond Taylor) in the First Baptist Church of Greensboro at the tender age of nine years old.
He later attended the University of Michigan from 1935-1938, where he earned his Bachelor of Music Degree. From 1938 to 1940 he furthered his education at The Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia. He then went back to the University of Michigan to earn his Master of Music Degree during the years 1940-1941. The instrument he played was the French Horn.
He volunteered for active duty in the Army-Air Corps in 1941 before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, then began his flight training and married Elizabeth on May 16, 1942 in Valdosta, Georgia. From 1942 to 1945 (the period covered by the letters in the three part series Letters to Libby), he was engaged as a troop-carrier and transport pilot, and also as a personal pilot to a variety of notable characters (Winston Churchill, King George VI of England, Ike Eisenhower, Field Marshal Montgomery, and Field Marshal Alexander).
After the war he and his wife returned to Ann Arbor, Michigan, but not before their first child (J. A. White III) was delivered on December 3, 1945 in Greensboro, North Carolina. In Ann Arbor at the University of Michigan he worked on his Doctorate and taught French Horn from 1946 to 1947, and then continued to work on his Doctorate while being occupied as an Instructor there from 1948 to 1950. On May 5, 1948, a second son was born to them, (Raymond Alan White, the Editor of Letters to Libby).
In 1950, Joseph and his family moved to Tallahassee, Florida, where he began work at the Florida State University School of Music, while continuing working on his Doctorate. At F.S.U. he played and taught French Horn and a variety of other Music courses such as Music Theory and Sightsinging. He directed ensembles and dissertations as well as playing French Horn in several Symphonies around the nation. Joseph and Elizabeth's first daughter (Marcia Elizabeth White-Wurzel) was born in Tallahassee on May 6, 1951. Joseph White became Dr. White in 1958 when he was awarded his Doctorate from the University of Michigan. On July 26, 1959, their second daughter, (Carroll Taylor White-Jarrett), and final member of the immediate family was also born in Tallahassee. After becoming a Professor he also served as Assistant to the Dean of the School of Music at F.S.U. until he retired in 1990. Immediately upon retiring he was rehired as a Visiting Professor, and worked at F.S.U. until he died on July 31, 1999.
Dr. White died of a heart attack in his School of Music office on a Saturday, while working on administrative tasks associated with the 62nd Troop-Carrier Reunion for that year. He was found by his loving wife when she went to his office after he called her and said he wasn't feeling too well.
Dad always said that when it was time for him to go, he prayed that the Good Lord would take him quickly...and He did. It was a tragic but fitting end to the earthly life of a great man.
Excerpts
Thursday Evening
September 17, 1942
Presque Isle, MaineDearest Libby,
Well, the day has been spent working on Father Time. I went out to the line after breakfast this morning and found two mechanics working on the right engine. Yesterday was the third and most serious trouble I've had with that engine since leaving Selfridge Field four days ago. When I spoke with the colonels after landing yesterday they assured me that the right engine would be thoroughly checked and put in reliable working order. I returned to the line this afternoon when the mechanics had finished. They assured me everything was in perfect working order, and when I fired the engines there was no loss of power while checking the magnetos. The only other thing I had to go by was the sound of the engines, their timbre. At least there is that connection between music and flying!
That reminds me of an incident that occurred in Primary. I recall my instructor was always puzzled at my ability to hold a steady glide path when coming in for a landing. One day he asked how I was able to do that. I told him I simply listened to the sound of the wind as it passed over the wing struts, and when it reached the pitch of concert 'g' I held that pitch all the way down to the ground. He looked at me, then turned away.
Aside from going out to the flight line twice today I've spent a good deal of time going over the material covering the northern latitudes and our coming flight overseas. It includes maps, radio frequencies, radio beams, landing fields, and survival material for all of Labrador, Newfoundland, Greenland, Iceland, Scotland, and England. Late this afternoon I took a short nap. I also went by the dispensary to have the doctor look at my ear. There was some congestion caused by my cold, but it has cleared up, and tomorrow I am scheduled to make my first flight to Goose Bay.
Goodnight, Libby. The sound of your voice last night still lingers in my ear. I'm thankful for you, your love, your kindness, your thoughtfulness and devotion. I pray each night that I will be worthy of all you give me for you are the very breath of my existence. I love you.
**********************Friday Evening
December 4, 1942
Algiers, AlgeriaDearest Libby,
Of the eighty-three days I have been away from you, today has proved the most beneficial because we have been instrumental in saving the lives of three men. Strange have been the circumstances, yet not for a moment do I question the fact that these circumstances were dictated by a force greater than that of man. 'Chance.' 'Luck.' 'The Will of God.' Call it what you may but I call it 'The Will of God,' for never before have such circumstances arisen, nor have they been put to a more worthwhile purpose.
I sometimes wonder if my face will not show the strain of hours like those today, hours not only in the air but on the ground as well. Late this morning we made our first flight east to Bone, some forty miles west of the Tunisian border. We flew in formation and made our way east, following the coastline past Bougie and Philippeville, and landed at Bone a little before noon. All of us were anxious to leave as quickly as possible because the night previous to our arrival the Germans had bombed the airfield with delayed-action bombs that went off periodically during the entire time we were on the ground.
As we were unloading equipment and personnel from our planes (Spitfire fighter mechanics), I spoke with an English colonel who nonchalantly remarked: "One of the blasted things landed just outside my window. I found it this morning. Luckily I didn't know about it during the night, else my sleep would have been a little disturbed." I was not nearly as unconcerned as he about the situation, and I was anxious to get Father Time up and away as soon as possible. But when the moment came to leave, in my anxiety I flooded my left engine. There we were, stuck; and I had to watch the rest of the planes take off and head west with Spitfire escort. You can imagine our thoughts as we watched the formation disappear into the afternoon sky.
There is nothing that can be done with a flooded engine but wait until gas has drained sufficiently for the engine to be started. While we waited, two B-17s approached the field in tandem, both with two of their engines shot out. I watched them land, the propellers of the second plane's remaining two engines stopping just as it touched down. We watched two ambulances make their way to the B-17s and shortly afterwards they came to my plane. The pilot of one of the B-17s jumped out of one of the ambulances and asked me to get his four wounded men to the base hospital in Algiers as quickly as possible. All were very badly shot up, mostly suffering chest wounds that needed surgery immediately.
We took the wounded men onboard and strapped them in securely, each of us hoping the flooded left engine would start. Both engines did, the moment the starter was engaged, and we took off and headed out over the water. Shortly after takeoff one of the boys died from a bullet wound in the neck. How sorry I was when Tiny came forward to tell me, but I was thankful that the others seemed to be holding on. I felt good not only because of what we were doing but because we had two Spitfire escorts hovering around us for protection. When we landed at Maison Blanche we were met by ambulances that had been requested by radio. While we stood by, the medics removed the wounded men and the body of the young man who had died, and as the ambulances drove away, I was terribly conscious of the loss of the young man's life. But that consciousness was countered by the thought that had I not accidentally flooded my left engine there would have been no way for the three wounded men to reach the Base Hospital quickly enough for treatment.
Our mission for the day had been completed. What a mixture of emotions. On the one hand we had flown personnel and equipment to the front for the conduct of war; on the other hand we were returning with badly wounded men, hoping the unintended presence of our plane at that forward field would lead to their recovery.
In a way, Libby, today shows the purpose of my days away from you and heightens the awareness of my love for you; a love that words can never express nor deeds show. Goodnight, my wife. I love you.
Catalogue Information
