Casablanca

Finally the brass decided to relocate my outfit so they could issue new clothes and furnish new planes. They moved us to Casablanca, a beautiful city which overlooks the Atlantic Ocean. If I had to stay in the military I would like for it to be in Casablanca. No, I did not see Bergen and Bogart, nor did I see the movie until six years after the war ended. But I did see thousands of refugees from Europe crowded into the harbor, trying to fly out or to board a boat for South America. At the sidewalk cafes you could hear six to eight different languages being spoken. There were beautiful women refugees who were willing to barter their bodies for a visa for their husbands. The city is spread across a hill, and most of the houses are painted white. The city contained Europeans dressed formally as well as raggedly, and Arabs in all sorts of different clothes. It was a mixture of different cultures, people with money and others with nothing at all. There are many stories to be told about Casablanca, but since our nation is in an historic presidential election, I will pause at this time until next week when I will evaluate the issues confronting our country.