Ufficio = office In ufficio = at the office A lavoro = at work Lavorare = to work Avere un lavoro, avere una occupazione = to have a job Impiegato = employed Disoccupato = unemployed Collega = colleague / coworker Capo = boss Presidente = president Direttore = senior manager Stipendio = salary Scrivania = desktop Stampante = printer Cartucce = cartridges Inchiostro = ink Computer = computer Mouse = mouse Email = email Telefono = phone Interno = extension (number of another office) Fogli, carta = papers Matite = pencils Penne = pens Cancelleria = writing materials, stationery // Chancellor’s office Amministrazione / segreteria = administrative office Direzione = senior manager office Centralino = switchboard Documentazione cartacea = paper documentation Fotocopia = photocopy, copy
A chi tocca? = Who’s next? Deve prendere il numero = You have to pick your turn Mi sta suonando il telefono, scusi un attimo = The phone is ringing, can you excuse me for a second? In cosa posso essere utile? = How can I help you?
Cosa posso fare per lei? = What can I do for you? Può aspettare un attimo? = Can you hold on a minute? Le passo il mio collega = I’ll put you through my coworker Il capo non c’è, se vuole può lasciare un messaggio = THe boss isn’t here, if you want you can leave a message. Mi spiace, ma il direttore è impegnato ora. = I’m sorry, the senior manager is busy atm. Mi dispiace, è in riunione / a pranzo / in ferie. = I’m sorry but he’s in a meeting / at lunch / on holiday. Quando posso trovare il signor Rossi? = When will I be able to speak with Mr. Rossi? E’ urgente = It’s urgent Gli manderò un’email per ricordargli l’appuntamento = I’ll send him an email to remind him of the appointment Riproverò più tardi = I’ll try again later Può lasciarmi i suoi dati? = Can you leave me your data/infos? Mi scusi, non ho capito, potrebbe ripetere per favore? = I’m sorry I didn’t understand, can you repeat please? Può fare lo spelling del suo cognome? = Can you spell your surname?Grazie per aver chiamato = Thanks for calling Grazie per l’aiuto = Thanks for the help Potrebbe richiamarmi appena possibile/al più presto? = Could you please call me back as soon as possible? Mi scusi se l’ho fatta aspettare = I’m sorry I kept you waiting Mi spiace ma non sto bene e non sono in grado di venire a lavorare oggi = I’m sorry I’m afraid I’m not well and won’t be able to come in today Il signor Rossi è in malattia oggi = Mr. Rossi is off sick today La signora Bianchi è in maternità = Miss Bianchi is on maternity leave A che ora inizia la riunione? = What time does the meeting start? L'amministrazione è al secondo piano = The administrative office is on the second floor. Può rivolgersi al centralino = You can call the switchboard (meaning: telephone operator) Il signor Rossi si trova al primo piano, nel secondo ufficio sulla destra = Mr Rossi is on the first floor, second office on the right Vado a pranzo, ci vediamo tra un’ora = I’m going out for lunch, I’ll see you/I’ll be back in one hour Dopo pranzo sono libero = I’ll be free after lunch Sei licenziato/a! = You’re fired! Lei ha rassegnato le dimissioni/si è licenziata = She resigned Posso vedere la documentazione? = Can I see the records? Dov’è la fotocopiatrice? Devo fare delle fotocopie = Where is the photocopier? I need to do some photocopying Ti ho lasciato il file sulla scrivania = I left the file on your desk Il mio computer non funziona al momento = My computer isn’t working rn Internet non funziona = Internet is down La stampante non funziona = The printer isn’t working Non riesco ad accedere alle mie email / a vedere le mie email = I can’t access my emails
A/N: This is very chessy buttttt…..Those who ask, shall receive.
The early sun was tinting the world in gold as you walked alongside Tom after the all clear was given. You and your families, Tom only with his mother and his Staffy, walked down the sidewalk with the other families of London. You held the handkerchief Tom had given you to your mouth lightly, doing the best you could to keep the smoke and debris out of you airways.
Tom walked beside you with a tall, straight back and a stern look on his face. He seemed to have grown since the lot of you had walked out into the chilly morning, seeing the destruction that had taken place was almost too much for him. To see his country being torn apart by the Nazis with nothing he could do about it killed him. He had only been accompanying his mother on an evening walk with their family pup, Tessa, while his father was in a meeting when the sirens sounded. All he could think to do was grab his mothers hand, picking up Tessa and walking quickly towards the nearest underground entrance.
“Are you okay?” Your voice was slightly muffled as you asked the man walking beside you. He looked at you quickly, shaking his head slightly before looking up at the smoke that filled the air.
“Damn Nazi’s are terrorizing our country and I can’t do anything about it.” He said before he closed his eyes and let out a long sigh before opening his eyes widely and looking at you quickly, “I’m sorry for speaking like that in the presence of a lady, but it’s just really hard for me.”
You stopped in front of your house that was, thankfully, still in tact. Looking at Tom closely before looking towards your father and mother, who shook Tom’s mum’s hand and smiled in conversation as they offered her inside for tea, which she refused on account of meeting with her husband, “Why weren’t you drafted, I thought all young men were drafted when the war began?”
Tom looked at you, his hand reaching out to gently take yours, his lips meeting your knuckled softly before holding the small hand in his larger ones, “A story for a different time…I’ll see you soon, darling.”
*Two Weeks Later*
You walked briskly through the chilly fall air, your thick heels leading you towards the telephone booth quickly. You readjusted the multiple book in your arms as you opened the door, shifting them so you could pick up the phone and dial the operator.
“Switchboard!” The voice said sharply as you hesitated, you looked at the note in your hand as you held the phone to your ear with your shoulder. The estate’s name was grand, lovely, and one you hand heard of since your were a child.
“Hampton Court Palace, please.” You say confidently after you read the name. The man hesitates slightly, waiting for you to take back your request but when you don’t he begins looking for the plug.
Calling the Hampton Court Palace from a telephone booth? What an odd Tuesday.
“Right away, ma’am.” The man says, as you begin to here the clicks of the transfer, the rings following soon after. You reach to rest your books on the floor, popping back up when a woman spoke from the other line on the other side of London. You smile lightly as you ask for the one you were desperately trying to reach, racing against the clock to talk to such a busy young man.
“(y/n) (l/n) for Sir Thomas Holland, the Earl of Buckingham please.” You say with a light smirk, thinking back to the last conversation you had with the young man.
“So what do you do for a living? You never told me the other night…” You asked as you walked side by side through Hyde Park. It was a Sunday, and you had just left Sunday morning mass when you saw Tom leaving from the cathedral you had been attending mass at for your whole life. It was a lucky coincidence but secretly you thought it might just be fate.
“Oh, I’m the Earl of Buckingham.” Tom’s voice came out nonchalantly, but you stopped dead in your tracks. You knew he was a familiar face, but you could never put your finger on it. Of course he would be an Earl, of course he would be royalty. “Oh, darling,” Tom chuckled out as he looked at your bewildered face, “Come along, you’ll get a cold if we don’t get you home.”
This love affair had been going on for some weeks. Letter were sent back and forth, phone calls were made, and meetings were arranged. You were absolutely flabbergasted, a young man who was the son of a duke, practically a prince, was speaking to you and writing you letters about his weeks and asking for you to phone him. Who would have thought that this war would have been good for something?
You could practically hear the smirk on his lips as he spoke. The both of you had been waiting to make/hear of this call all day, your busy schedules always colliding. It was something that was looked forward to during the weeks that had passed.
“Hello, Tom.” You say with a happy sigh. He chuckled at you through the phone, and you knew that if you closed your eyes you would see his wide grin and white teeth. The two of you began talking, trying to get as much conversation in before your time was up. The topic went from the days events to a silly conversation about silly hats that the girls were wearing now days. Tom was speaking in a high pitched, posh accent when the bell went off to warn you of your two minutes left. You were sure that the men listening in were chuckling softly to themselves.
“I hate to be the one to ruin the fun, but I must go.” You say lowly, Tom’s giggles stopped slowly and silence could be heard on both ends. You were about to say goodbye when Tom suddenly interrupted you.
“Mother wants to meet you, u-hum…Properly meet you, I mean.” He rushed out before stopping abruptly.
“What?” You asked shockingly. A duchess wants to meet you, and have a conversation with you, and have your company.
“She wants to meet the girl I keep going on and on about,” If he was with you now he would have sent a wink your way, “I suggested tea next Wednesday, if that’s alright with you?” He asked hopefully, his heart racing at the thought of you seeing his childhood home and meeting his mother and siblings.
“How could I refuse?” You ask with a gasp, a hand reaching up to touch the pearls that you wore on your neck. Your teeth pulled your bottom lip into your mouth as you thought about the boy on the other line.
“Then it’s settled, I’ll send a car for you next Wednesday and-”
“Tom?” You rushed out, trying to get the courage up to ask the question that had been on your mind for the last two weeks of this unspoken romance.
“What…What would you call….this?” Your voice was low, and almost sounded naïve and child-like. Tom smiled softly at your words, running a hand through his dark hair slowly as he though of the look on your small face. You were just barely eighteen, but he was already so very in love.
“I would call this courting, darling. Don’t you agree?”
The YWCA was one of several organizations that comprised the United War Work Campaign, which was formed to support war relief efforts at home and overseas during World War I. As a women’s organization, the YWCA was responsible for providing support to female war workers such as the switchboard operator pictured in this poster. Known as the Hello Girls, hundreds of women served in the Signal Corps Female Telephone Operators Unit.
YWCA. World War I poster. circa 1917-1918. New-York Historical Society.
Oo! Rose during the war and/or how she got hired at the SSR.
Rose has been in L.A. for a week, and so far it’s been a thrilling whirlwind. She’s living in a hotel, looking for a permanent place (houses are so much cheaper here than in New York City; it’s incredible), and taking on an ever-larger share of the job of setting up the new SSR offices. It’s just … there’s so much to be done, and so few people to do it. Not to say a bad word against Agent – er – Chief Sousa, who she has all the respect in the world for, but he’s clearly not a man with a great deal of experience at managing an office. Rose, meanwhile, ran the Bell switchboard office in Farm Hill, Ohio for six years prior to the war, and has been running the not-exactly-fake cover office in New York for a year and a half.
It’s not glamorous work; it’s everything from interviewing support staff to buying office supplies to hammering nails into drywall. But Rose doesn’t mind. Less than a decade ago, she thought she’d spend her entire life in Farm Hill, growing old in the house she grew up, feeding her widowed mother’s cats and tending their shared flower and vegetable garden.
“Say, do you mind me asking you for a little help, Rose?”
Chief Sousa blushes slightly as he says it. It’s late, and they’re the only two people in the stripped-down front office that’s going to be their cover business. Rose is hanging pictures, arranging furniture, and making everything look just so, while the Chief goes through dossiers for prospective agents, sitting at what is probably going to be her desk. (Her own desk!) The brand-new Auerbach Agency sign leans against the wall, and Rose can’t stop looking at it in satisfaction. It looks crisp and new and delightful.
“Nothing inappropriate,” he adds quickly.
“Of course,” she says. Chief Sousa has been nothing but polite and respectful to her since she arrived; even if the two of them have ended up working late together, in a way her mother definitely would not approve of, she doesn’t think he’d say anything fresh. (Not that she’d mind, although … there is also Peggy to be considered.)
“Right.” He clears his throat and flips over a file folder, making a note to himself, then lays them aside. “Want to help me hang up a sign?”
“Oh, of course!” She’s desperately curious to find out what that bright new sign will look like, hanging outside the agency. And she realizes why he needs her help when they go to liberate one of the painters’ stepladders. Chief Sousa can’t climb one of these. He looks embarrassed as Rose helps him carry it outside, into the warm L.A. night.
“I probably shouldn’t have asked you for this,” he apologizes. “We can just get the construction boys to do it in the morning –”
“I don’t want to wait,” she confesses, and he grins, quick and bright. His doubts return once she’s up on the ladder, but Rose climbs quickly before he can order her not to.
“So tell me, Rose,” he says, grunting with effort as he hands the sign up to her. “How’d you get into this line of work? I’m just curious.”
“Oh, the war, I suppose. I volunteered as a nurse, and fell in love with traveling. That’s why I started working for the Bell Company in the first place, you know, back in ‘21 – I thought it was glamorous and maybe I’d get a chance to travel.” Rose smiles briefly at herself as she carefully lines up the sign with the hooks that are already in place to hang it. “The advertisements promised a great deal more than the job delivered, at least in Farm Hill. It was a fine life, I had no complaints about it, but when the war came …”
She hesitates, because it seems unkind to say to Chief Sousa – who lost a leg in the war, like so many other poor boys who came back damaged – that for her, it was an opportunity, a chance to rediscover something inside herself that she’d nearly forgotten.
“Went well, did it?”
“Oh, goodness no. I was terrible at it. The nursing, I mean. But when the war was over, I thought maybe I’d try my hand in the big city rather than going back to Farm Hill.”
Chief Sousa looks up at her with a curiosity he’s never shown towards her before, though (unlike some of the men she worked with at the New York SSR) he’s always been perfectly polite. “So you just showed up at the SSR and asked for a job?”
“Oh no, no, there was an advertisement. Ah!” She drops the sign into place, and climbs down the ladder to admire her handiwork. “Trained, discreet switchboard operators needed … do you know, I still remember the exact words of it? I’ve got to say, it was a little bit of a shock when they asked me at the interview if I knew how to use a gun. I grew up helping my granddaddy shoot crows in the cornfield, so I was a crack shot with a load of birdshot, as I told them. Maybe that’s what tipped the scales, or maybe it was my nineteen years with the Bell Company.” Remembrance makes her smile.
Chief Sousa looks at her for a moment longer, then shakes his head. “We’re lucky to have you, Rose.”
“Oh, well, thank you!” She plants her hands on her hips, looking up at the sign. “That looks swell up there, doesn’t it?”
Chief Sousa follows her gaze, the night breeze ruffling his hair. “It looks great. Nice job, Agent Roberts.”
With school around the corner, this is a reminder to not allow the history textbooks have you go & discredit revolutionary heroes that fought & died for your rights. It’s important to educate yourself & others about COINTELPRO, an FBI government-sponsored series of covert, and often illegal, projects aimed at spying on, infiltrating, discrediting, disrupting & destroying leftist political organizations & leaders they deemed “subversive” including the Black Panther Party, Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, Civil Rights organizations, the Brown Berets, the Young Lords, the American Indian Movement, women’s liberation groups, LGBT activists, & anti-Vietnam war organizers.
“COINTELPRO used informants, agent provocateurs, infiltrators, legal and illegal wiretaps, break-ins, false correspondence, and “bad-jacketing,” which was the act of making a legitimate member of a group appear to be a collaborator with the state. Psychological warfare included calling the parents of young civil rights activists to inform them that their children had been murdered or kidnapped. FBI agents worked with journalists to plant stories in order to discredit leadership and organizations. Across the country, the Bureau collaborated with local police to repress targeted groups. Sharing resources & intelligence, activists were arrested, fired from jobs, expelled from schools and lost business contracts. COINTELPRO even used switchboard operators and postal workers to spy on citizens, with or without court order… The effectiveness of COINTELPRO was overwhelming. Many organizations were destabilized with arrests, raids, break-ins, & killings. The most famous raid of the Panthers occurred in December 1969 in Chicago when a 14-man police raiding party killed two Panthers, Fred Hampton & Mark Clark. Several other Panthers were injured in the pre-dawn attack. Nationally, the Panthers insisted that the FBI and local police were involved in a conspiracy to destroy them. Hoover denied it. The magnitude of these coordinated activities, however, were not known until the 1976 congressional hearings.” -Jeffrey O.G. Ogbar
Chillicothe Telephone switchboard operators, c. 1895. Telephone companies were one of the few employers of women in the late Victorian era. Phone companies hired women because they were thought to be more courteous to callers, and because they could pay women less than male operators.
Look at those beaufiful muttonchop sleeves!
Pictured are Mary Rigney, Marie Ransing, Maggie Powell, Anna Cavanaugh, Maggie Breen & Valetta Reutinger.
Smoke curled artistically around your face as you exhaled. Katie
laughed at the man next to her and he ran a finger over the skin of her arm,
eyes hooded and biting his lip.
The band started up again and Katie smirked at you in passing as
she was pulled onto the dancefloor. You sipped your fourth gin and tonic of the
night and glanced around the room.
The club was crowded despite its size and the heat coming off
the other patrons was enough to make your neck damp with sweat.
Katie’s distinctive laugh pulled your attention across the
room and you smiled at her madness. You worked together as switchboard
operators and always pulled you out for drinks at the end of the week.
Your favourite haunt, The Marquis of Lorne, had burned down
but The Chains was a close second and the drinks were actually cheaper.
Someone sat down next to you and cleared their throat. You
smirked as you studied him while he ordered two more whiskey’s. He looked sharp
and clean but you could see the trouble in his eyes as he glanced sideways at
“Don’t believe I’ve seen you around before…” Ash fell onto
the bar next to his arm and he stared at it before blinking at you slowly.
“Is that so?” You tried to hide a smile. He turned to face
you fully now, raising a quizzical eyebrow.
“Oh, most definitely.” He leaned forward and feigned
studying your face carefully. “A face that beautiful wouldn’t have slipped my
You laughed, throwing your head back and squeezing his arm
gently. It had been instinctive, like metal to a magnet, and you felt your
pulse race as his eyes flitted to your lips, neck, collarbone.
“What’s your name?”
“Y/N… What’s yours?”
He smirked and held out a hand for you to take before
kissing your knuckles. “Michael.”
“Would you like to dance, Michael?” you uncrossed your legs
and saw him gulp as your dress moved up to reveal the garters around your
“Of course.” He held out his hand and helped you down from
the stool. The band had started playing a smoother, slower tune and Michael
pulled you close enough to busy his nose in your hair.
The lights were twinkling with every step as you spun in
delicate circles, the light beads on your dress catching the light. You loved this, the pressure of a warm hand on your back and the feeling of gliding
along the floor.
“I’d never thought that I’d be slow dancing with a Peaky boy…”
you mumbled, hand tightening on his shoulder as he looked down at you sharply. “Don’t
look so surprised… I recognised your friend.”
His eyes followed your gaze towards the handsome,
dark-skinned man grinning at the pair of you as he sipped at a pint. Michael’s
cheeks tinged and you laughed as he spun you away.
“Did he set you up to it?” you wondered, staring up at him
through your lashes. His green eyes were amused and the song bled into the next;
you kept dancing.
“He pointed you out, yes.” Michael commented lightly. “I was
just faster at going to talk to you…”
He delighted in your laughter and dipped you low before
bringing you back and skimming his nose along the column of your neck.
“First come, first serve…” you hummed and ran your fingers
through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “Though perhaps I ought to dance
with him as well… to judge who’s better at seduction.”
Michael’s grip tightened on your waist and you grinned at
him playfully. “You think I’m seducing you?”
“I was hoping for it.” You whispered next to his ear,
nibbling on is. His back straightened and his throat bobbed. “My flat is just two
minutes from here…”
Your lips brushed his. Not innocently, like a tease, but
hot, fiery, passionate and demanding. You opened your eyes after pulling away
and bit your lip. He blinked at you and suddenly you were being pulled through
the crowd on the dancefloor and towards the exit. Katie would have to find her
own way home… though by the look on her face before she’d left you at the bar,
it wasn’t a problem.
You giggled at Michael’s hastiness. You were moaning by the
time you unlocked your door and stumbled in backwards, Michael’s lips on your
neck as you fought to divest him of his jacket and waistcoat.
“Fuck!” he pulled away when his back hit the door and the
doorknob dug into his back. “No need to be so rough, love.”
You nipped at his neck and stepped back from him, sashaying
backwards as you gave him a come hither look. He watched you while biting his
bottom lip, green eyes blinking slowly as they trailed your body.
You disappeared behind your bedroom door and heard the soft
whisper of fabric – no doubt from him removing his shirt. You smirked as you stripped
off your dress and put your foot on the bed to remove your shoes.
“Fuck…” you glanced at the door and found him staring at
your leg, flushed and straining against his trousers. His chest was pale in the
moonlight coming from your window and the contours of his body set your whole
“Are you going to stare at me all night or are you going to
come here and show me what you Peaky boys do to satisfy…?” you sat down on the
bed and he cleared his throat, moving swiftly to kneel in front of you.
You shivered as he took your foot in his hand and massaged
the sole, kissing and nipping the skin just above your stockings. He held your
stare as he unrolled the material from your leg and your breath hitched with
each new kiss.
“So soft, darling.” he nipped the inside of your thigh and
you squealed. He chuckled as he stood up again and cupped your face. “So
He kissed you and the world fell away. It was slow and soft,
comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below your ear,
his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek as your breaths mingled. You ran your
fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left
between you. You could feel the beating of his heart against your chest.
“No teasing.” You whispered against his lips, fitting your
fingers into the waistband of his trousers. Your bed creaked under his weight
as he slid you up to the pillow and placed hot, open-mouthed kisses on your
neck. “Please, Michael…”
You gasped as his fingers trailed under your underwear. They
were cooler than your body and served to further excite you as he shimmied your
panties down to your ankles.
His trousers followed swiftly behind and you moaned as he
rubbed himself against you deliciously slowly. Your head tipped back as soon as
he slid into you and he grunted with the force it took to let you adjust to
His skin was slick and salty and you cried out when his hips
found a perfect rhythm. His back would be scratched up the next day but you couldn’t
find it in your heart to care and you knew he wouldn’t either.
“Fuck, Y/N!” he tensed as you clenched around him. Fire pooled
in your belly and you buried your face in his neck. “Love… so fucking… fuck.”
You giggled breathlessly and he rolled his hips hard,
sending you over the edge. Mrs. Moore would no doubt be complaining about the
noise, come morning but it didn’t matter when Michael kissed your cheek and urged
He fell on top of you in a breathless, sweating heap and you
smiled as you combed your fingers through his hair. He kissed the tops of your
breasts which had come out of the slip you were still wearing. “Perhaps we
should pretend not to know each other more often.”
He hummed against your chest and you laughed and pulled him
closer, burying your face in his neck and breathing him in as lethargy settled
in your bones.
“I love you, Y/N.” He whispered right before you fell
Please fire me. I’ve worked as a switchboard operator at a luxury car dealership for almost 8 years. Dealing with the 95% self-righteous egomaniacs has made it so I can’t even be pleasant to the 5% nice people because I’m too tired to care anymore.
“Medics are just as courageous as a fighting man; they aren’t permitted to carry a weapon, yet when the lead’s flying, their job is to run toward the bullets, not away.”
The Band-Aid Bandits
Ed Pepping and Al Mampre met on the first day of boot camp at Camp Toccoa, Georgia. “No matter how crazy it got we always tried to keep a sense of humor, if you didn’t have a sense of humor, you were gone.” At Toccoa, they made catapults out of trees and tossed each other around to see how far a man could fly and one time a captain was set to be married and the night before the wedding, the medics anesthetized him, put his arm in a cast, and shaved off half his mustache. They became instant friends and have stayed friends ever since. That’s more than 70 years of friendship.
For D-Day, Pepping was originally assigned to the same plane of Lt. Meehan, but for some unknown reason he switched seat with another medic. Upon landing into Normandy Ed cracked his head on the ground, and blacked out. That same day, he made his way to a church in Angoville au Plein that was being used as an aid station and patched up as many casualties as he could. In tribute, the people from the church have never washed the bloodstains off those pews. Outside Beaumont, when Lieutenant Colonel Billy Turner was killed, the advance of tanks stopped as Turner was at the front of the moving column. Pepping helped to pull Turner out so the tank column could move again. He received the bronze star for his action. According to military records, “Acting without regard for his own life or safety, he attempted to save the life of a battalion commander who had fallen critically wounded on top of the tank commander, not only halting the advance of the six-tank column, but making the whole column potential targets for destruction by the enemy as well. Although an agonizingly painful choice to make, Pepping’s actions allowed the tank column to advance again”
In Normandy Pepping was wounded in his leg and was not able to join the company in France, he was replaced by Ralph Spina. He then went AWOL from the hospital to rejoin Easy and he was with his unit for fifty one days. After that, Pepping was then sent to serve in general hospitals in England and in France. He later operated switchboard for trunk lines throughout France.
During the training one of the jobs for the medics was to make medical checks in the community in the Deep South; right before D-Day Mampre had an infection on his neck and missed the jump, Doc Roe took his place . Al first battle was Operation Market-Garden where another man collided with him on the jump down, Al back was badly hurt but he kept going anyway. Just before the troops reached Eindhoven, Lt. Bob Brewer was shot through the neck by a sniper and was presumed dead. Unconvinced, Al sprinted out to the field where Brewer lay, saw that he was still breathing, got some plasma out of his kit, and pumped it into Brewer’s vein although the men were still under fire. Another rifle cracked, and Al took one just above his boot line. The bullet peeled the flesh off his leg all the way down to the bone. Both the lieutenant and Al were helped to safety by some nearby Dutch civilians. Al healed up and rejoined the company in Bastogne; he remembers a joke he had with a German prisoner who spoke some English just to set the man at ease. “Hey, why don’t we change uniforms? Think about it: if I wear your German uniform they’ll send me to the States as a captive—then I’ll be home. If you wear my American uniform, we’re going to go to Germany, you know that, then you’ll be home.” The prisoner thought about it for a moment then smiled. “Ah, the hell with you,” he said. “I want to go to America. You can go to Germany.”
Ed Pepping came home in December 1945. He studied business and technology and became a draftsman for NASA’s Apollo Program, helping to send men to the moon. He married and had three children, he also received the Army’s Legion of Merit medal and is a holder of the Combat Medic and Combat Infantry Badges. Pepping felt that he let his unit down for being knocked out after 15 days in Normandy and did not keep in touch with the men of Easy Company. He only got involved again after the Emmy Awards reunion in 2002.
Al Mampre came home from the war in September 1945 with two purple hearts and a broze star, married his childhood sweetheart Virginia and studied at UCLA and the University of Chicago. He worked as a psychologist and for International Harvester in their training department. The Mampres had three children together. He retired in 1978.
“Oh I was a daredevil kind of guy and I thought [paratropeers] that’s where the action would be” Mampre said.