#BY FAR one of my most favorite early chapters of the attdc story

[wexhappyxfew]

CHAPTER 12 - 'LEAST WE'RE DOING SOMETHING

December 1st, 1942 - 0530 En Route to Atlanta, Georgia from Camp Toccoa, Georgia, United States War Correspondent Esther Armstrong

Joe Liebgott and I seemed to make do on the 115-mile mark to Atlanta. Though neither of us had nearly enough weight on to keep ourselves and each other warm, we seemed to equip the sleeping bags and cigarettes the best we could. I learned a lot more about the man when there was nothing but the darkness, cold and cigarettes surrounding us. He was from San Francisco, he had a big family, and he'd been a taxi driver and barber before the war. He said if I'd let him, he could trim up the mess of hair on my head for me. I told him he could give it a college try. My time with Joe Liebgott after sharing a pup-tent with him two nights in a row and freezing our asses off together, was definitely enjoyable. We seemed to get each other; maybe it was because we both offered picturesque poker faces or seemed to be constant companions to equating levels of annoyance. Whatever it was, I would see Liebgott and he'd crack a gigawatt smile my way and then be off for a joke or a cigarette. That was Joe Liebgott for you. - Esther Armstrong, in her book, Stroke of Luck

[read the rest right here on AO3!]

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