Papa Lynch's World War 2 Book

[Greg]

actually made their living as writers for years.

Seems like a contradiction in terms.

[Drunk Monk]

Sad but true

It’s a dumb profession that way. A poor career choice (emphasis on poor).

[Dr. Ivor Yeti]

I'm waiting for you two to have a spat.

[Drunk Monk]

What? We've been having a spat since before the D00M4M began! What do you think the D00M4M is about?!?

It's about spats. 

Oh wait. I see what you did there. 

[Greg]

See? SEE?! That's how the wealthy fencing oligarchs keep us down by pitting us against each other.

I for one will not fall for it. Plus, I'm too busy spats shopping.

[Drunk Monk]

wealthy fencing oligarchs

Seems like a contradiction in terms.

[Greg]

I'm sure our parents our proud of the lucrative careers we have chosen.

[thatguy]

Then there was that time, while working at Walgreen's, that I had to dress up as Mr. Peanut and hand out bags of peanuts (ie: scare the shit out of) small children in front of the store. It was the only time I wore spats and they were cheap, fake bullshit spats as I recall. 

--tg

[Dr. Ivor Yeti]

Then there was that time, while working at Walgreen's, that I had to dress up as Mr. Peanut and hand out bags of peanuts (ie: scare the shit out of) small children in front of the store. It was the only time I wore spats and they were cheap, fake bullshit spats as I recall. 

--tg

I spit in those spats.

[Greg]

Woo-hoo! Another publisher, Austin Macauley, has offered to publish my grandfather's moving memoir if I give them a chunk of money.

I regretfully had to pass.

[Greg]

After months of silence, I heard from my book publisher Casemate today. They want better captions for the photos. They want me to write a preface. And they want me to work on the index some more. But they are still out there and we are still going forward. Huzzah!

[Dr. Ivor Yeti]

YAY!!!!

[Greg]

Here is the preface to The Black Scorpion Squadron

Whenever the Lynch family gathered in numbers beyond the immediate family, whether it was back in Melrose, Massachusetts with my Uncle and cousins or up in San Francisco with my great Aunt Ida, and tales were told of our family history occasional mention was made of my paternal Grandfather James Lynch’s memoir about fighting in World War 2. I vaguely knew that my grandfather, or Papa as he preferred to be called, fought in World War 2. There were artifacts around the house pointing to his service. I used his World War 2 duffel bag on many camping trips. That bag was tougher than Kevlar and basically unmarred despite its age. There were a few khaki side caps stuck in a drawer. My father showed me some handkerchiefs Papa had had made out of parachute silk. But that was about it. 
Furthermore, my connection with Papa was tenuous at best. Our family moved away from Massachusetts, where Papa lived in Medford, when I was six. I was told he used to take us to Jordan Marsh at Christmas to meet Santa and pick out a toy. I know that because there are pictures and stories from my sisters. The solid memories I have of him where that he was a super hero who took nitroglycerine pills to help with his heart. The other was that I was at his house once in Medford and we watched the funeral of General Dwight Eisenhower. That was about it as far as memories go. Sadly, he died in 1975 at the young age of 69 before I got the chance to know him.
Whenever his name was mentioned afterwards, it was coupled with the book. The book that detailed his experiences in the war. The book that was never published. 
That wasn’t the biggest travesty about the book. The biggest travesty was the loss of the photos that accompanied the book. According to my father, the pictures were what really made the book. Papa was the company security officer for his unit. During his service, it was his job to collect any and all pictures found on the men and destroy them. You weren’t supposed to have pictures of the unit in case they fell into enemy hands. It was a security no-no and Papa took the job of rounding up those contraband pictures seriously. The only problem, he never destroyed them. He kept them. After the war was over, supposedly, he had a great stash of pictures to illustrate his World War 2 exploits.
After he died, my father went looking for the photos. They were always kept in a desk drawer in folder next to the folder that held the manuscript. The picture folder was empty, and no one knew where the pictures went. My father thought Papa might have sent the pictures off with the manuscript to a publisher and the pictures were never returned.
That is where the story stood for decades. When I would meet up with the cousins or my Uncle Jimmy and the talk would turn to Papa’s Book, the inevitable question would be, “Where were the pictures”. At some point, my Uncle Jimmy started to think the pictures might be lost somewhere in his basement. When Papa passed, a lot of his old keepsakes and memorabilia ended up in Uncle Jimmy’s basement. That’s how the photos might have ended up there. The family just had to find them. For years after that revelation, I would ask my Uncle Jimmy or my cousins whether they had found the photos. The answer was always no. The nadir of the basement story came when the basement flooded. The pictures, if they existed, might have been ruined by the water and most likely tossed out with the rest of the mess.
Now, this hunt for the missing pictures doesn’t take into account the state of the actual manuscript. My father felt Papa’s manuscript needed someone to go through it and edit it. Papa barely graduated High School and my father thought the language of the book was a bit basic. With the same breath, my father would also declare he didn’t want to do too much to the writing so as not to destroy Papa’s voice. The goal was to find someone to take on the task of going through the manuscript and make it ready for publication. There were no takers. There were a few writers in the family, myself included, but none of us had any interest in the project.
The book sat unremarked for decades only spoken of in passing. My father hoped someone would jumpstart this project and get Papa’s book out into the world.
In the late 2000s, I decided I would finally do something about Papa’s book. I did it for my father’s sake. At some point, I think everyone wants to do something for their parents to show them how much they mean to them. This was my opportunity to show my father how much I appreciated him It was his dream to have the book published. He just didn’t know how to do that. I felt it was something I could help him with. In order to do that, the first thing I would have to do was at least put the book in an electronic format so editing could take place more easily. I set about typing the book into a computer.
My first day typing I could see one of the reasons why the book had been rejected by publishers. Papa had written the book in all capital letters. I’m so used to texting and writing in online forums at this point, where All-Caps has a particular significance, I felt like Papa was shouting his story at me. The style was a bit awkward as well. Papa was used to writing military reports and that’s how the book came across, one long military report.
But as I went through the book, I became enthralled by Papa’s exploits. I finally learned that he was with an air combat squadron. Though he was not a pilot, he made sure the pilots had everything they needed to do their jobs. He travelled across the globe to give assistance to the English Army when they needed it most. Papa and the 64th Fighter Squadron of the 57th Fighter Group fought across the top of Africa and up through Italy, experiencing almost unending battles. There were quiet times as well. There were booze runs to Malta and a hunt for musical instruments to start a band. Papa described a side of war that’s not often depicted, the everyday events of military life.
Eventually, I finished typing up the novel. It needed work but I didn’t really have the time to give the book the thorough editing it needed. I figured I would get to it eventually.
Over in Massachusetts, my cousin Chris was very excited when he learned I was working on Papa’s book. He spent a lot of time with our mutual grandfather growing up. Of all the grandkids, he had the closest bond to Papa. That bond probably helped convince Chris to join the Army himself. Chris would always pester me whenever we communicated if I had finished Papa’s book yet. And I would always ask if he had found the pictures, yet. That would quickly bring the conversation to a close. It had long been decided that without the pictures there could be no book. Over time, I started to think I could probably put the book together with pictures from other sources. There is an online forum dedicated to the 57th Fighter Group that had a lot of pictures from the people in the squadron. I even found one of Papa in the collection. I guess my grandfather wasn’t as successful rounding up the forbidden pictures as he thought. If I couldn’t find Papa’s pictures, I could certainly use these.
The narrative changed in 2022. Both my Uncle Jimmy and my Aunt Eileen had passed on and my cousin Chris lived in their house in Melrose. Chris and his two brothers and two sisters were going to sell the house as part of their inheritance and were in the process of clearing out the myriad material scattered in the house. Everything had to be sorted, either saved or thrown out. Out of the blue, I get a text from Chris saying they had found Papa’s pictures. Surprised doesn’t really encompass my reaction. I believed the pictures had long since vanished from the house. The pictures were tucked away in a bag in some dark corner of the cellar. They hadn’t been destroyed in the flood. After years and years, I no longer had the excuse of not finishing Papa’s book. Chris boxed up the album and sent them to me. I started fixing Papa’s book.
Now, the book is done and ready to be shared. The more I read the book, the more I got to know this relatively young man and the job he did serving his country. In the end, his story is an amazing one. I hope Papa likes the way the book turned out

[Dr. Ivor Yeti]

That's a pretty straightforward forward.

---

At the end of the second paragraph from the bottom, you refer to the memoir as a "novel". Deliberate?

[Greg]

Nope. I make the mistakes. Thank you.