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- Details, Details
- What's that building to the left of the tower?
- Coal Barges
- Bromo-Seltzer
- Inner harbor
- The Basin
- What a headache!
- Giant stepladder?
- Baldwin 62303
- Baldwin VO-1000
- Cold
- No expense spared
- Tough Guys
- Lost in Toyland
- And without gloves
- If I were a blindfolded time traveler
- Smoke Consumer Also Cooks
- Oh that stove!
- Possibly still there?
- What?!?
- $100 Reward
- Freeze Frame
- Texas Flyer wanted
- Just a Year Too Soon
- WWII -- Replacing men with women at the railroad crossing.
- Yes, Icing
- You kids drive me nuts!
- NOT An Easy Job
- I wonder
- Just add window boxes
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Soft Serve: 1942
September 1942. "Fort Belvoir, Virginia. Sergeant George Camplair on one of his many visits to the post exchange." Acetate negative by Jack Delano, Office of War Information. View full size.
They treat you right?
The surgeon general will disagree in a little over 20 years, but it is a cool advertisement by Chesterfield.
Whatcha got there, soldier?
I can read the word Exchange and understand it's base currency. Not sure how much they pay a sergeant for peeling onions. I can't find an example of it on the Internet.
Same uniform for me
The cap I have still fits. The rest just didn't keep pace.
Camblair?
Hi Dave,
The name is spelled Camblair according to Library of Congress. Love the photo, BTW.
[Camplair, with a P, is the correct spelling of his name. - Dave]
Hmmm ...
One has to wonder if this is also a picture of the future Mrs. Camplair.
Nutty for McNutt
The woman here with Sgt. Camplair in 1942 looks to be Mary Jane McNutt, co-worker bride per that 1946 wedding post found under his onion peeling pic.
“Many visits to the post exchange” indeed, thus making it two winning campaigns for the duration.
Yes Sir!
I can see why the sarge is a frequent customer and it ain't because of the cold fountain drinks or the Chesterfields.
I can see why
I also would be making as many visits to the PX as my duties would allow, with a doll like that behind the counter. Woof!
Born here ...
Eight years later, I was born at Fort Belvoir, as Walter Reed was full up. They did not give me a softie cone, though. Just a slap on the behind.
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