#deetta little

[plus-low-overthrow]

Sweet Salvation - I Just Find Myself Falling (Elektra)

voc. DeEtta Little & perc. Bobbye Hall, 1972.

[pfctipper]

thinking abt dick winters (as usual) but specifically the contemporary evidence of him in the context of damian lewis describing him as 'not without ego' and this post

aka i am absolutely fascinated that web’s main description of him is ‘big and hard and aggressive’

January 1945 letter from Johnny Martin to Bill Guarnere: 'Our CO is now Lieutenant Speirs from D Company. I think he’s the best one we've had yet'

Webster, Parachute Infantry (based on his wartime letters and notes he made in the late 1940s): 'A big, strong young man with sandy hair, he had won the Distinguished Service Cross in Normandy [...] Captain Winters jumped out of the ditch. “Let’s go! Let’s hear a little noise! Kill ’em! Kill ’em all!” [...] Our old Captain Winters, the medal-winner, who was big and hard and aggressive, seemed like the kind of man who would stay around forever. Now he was gone [as company commander]'

Speirs, THE OPERATIONS OF THE 2ND PLATOON D COMPANY, 506 PARACHUTE INFANTRY (101ST AIRBORNE DIVISION) IN THE VICINITY OF CARENTAN, FRANCE 11-13 JUNE 1944 (1948): 'The E Company commander, Lt Winters, was struck in the leg. He was not evacuated, however, and in spite of a stiff and painful leg, stayed until ·the end of the campaign'

speirs features a lot more than dick in parachute infantry, which is partly because of the parts of the war it spans, but probably not what you’d expect from watching the show and seeing how that puts him on a pedestal. also that webster and his particular brand of disdain for a lot of the military and its pettiness and regulations specifically really liked speirs but seems to have been fairly ambivalent about dick is interesting

plus there are dick's wartime letters to deetta in hang tough, where he comes across as. well. the top goodreads review appears to have mistaken it for a epistolary wwii romance novel and knocked off 1.5 stars for misogyny, and i think 'superiority complex' and 'temperamental' would just about cover the rest

so. clearly perceived as a good officer, but not exactly how he comes across in the show or the books. i think dick was absolutely not without ego ('I knew that I was a better man than most of the officers whom I had met, so I flirted with joining the commissioned ranks' in Beyond is a pretty good summation) and a very strong personality. as per ambrose, dick had the initial idea for band of brothers and presented him with folders of information he'd already prepared in anticipation that someone would want to write that book one day, led on collating most of the information from the other men, and along with lipton went through the book 'line-by-line' before it was published to 'correct' information provided by others

and i think that ego really informed both what is / isn't included in the show and how the audience was meant to understand what is included (the shaving scene in bastogne, the nco mutiny)

which in itself has very interesting implications for how nix gets portrayed in the show and in the books given that, by virtue of not engaging with ambrose and then passing in 1995, he's pretty much entirely invented based on information from dick. given that a lot of the show is serving dick’s ego, it’s interesting that nix’s characterisation doesn’t, really. he’s just kind of there

lots to think about. more exploration of egotistical dick please

[evidenceof]

Harry Welsh's letter to Dick Winters, March 30, 1989

It's strange that I don't mind talking to you about the war and refuse to talk to others about it. It's also strange that I'm writing this letter on the spur of the moment. My letters are rare these days.

Dick Winters' letter to DeEtta Almon, April 10, 1945

... there are only a few of them that really know and understand how I feel and think about life in general, guess there’s really only one, Lt. Welsh, a good little Irishman.

DICK WINTERS and HARRY WELSH Band of Brothers

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

"If you want to fight, you might as well do it now while I don’t have much zip left because I am a fighting man when I am strong. I might as well fight the Germans, the army, and you at the same time instead of individually. I feel like I can take care of the whole bunch and still not knock myself out. At least I am not really worried about a fight from you for all you can throw are strong words and right now they don’t even faze me. The words just sort of bounce off."

~ Dick Winters (from his letter to DeEtta Almon)

I then compared her letter to a close artillery shell—I just hit the dirt when I heard it coming, waited until the shrapnel stopped singing overhead, then I went about my way.

As I told my friend, “Sometimes a piece of spent shrapnel hits you, might leave your leg or arm stiff and a little black and blue, but you’re not hurt enough to stop. So it goes in any kind of a fight. You get hit, sure, you are bound to; but that doesn’t mean you’re out or that you’re even hurt, unless you want to think so"

~ Dick Winters

[shelyue99]

Before I close, let me say one thing, or rather ask one thing of you. Don't call me a brass hat! Please! If I've hurt your feelings, pardon me, I didn't mean to, but I just didn't want to have anybody standing around waiting for me when I come home. Or have anybody with any ideas. Of those who have worked with me in the army, and there are only a few of them that really know and understand how I feel and think about life in general, guess there's really only one, Lt. Welsh, a good little Irishman. At home there are my folks, and that's it. I don't think I have another soul who knows me. There were two fellows, one's in the army but I lost all respect for him after the way he fought the army for a year so he could stay with his wife. The other is a marine and a hell of a good guy, intends to be a preacher. I understand he's been wounded on Saipan and is to be discharged but I haven't heard from him or seen him for over two years.

Dick’s letter to DeEtta, April 10, 1945, Germany

It intrigues me Dick wrote Harry was the only one who understood how Dick thought about life in general, while just a sentence prior he wrote “ a few of them” who did. Not want to downplay Harry and Dick’s friendship but I can’t stop myself speculating why he didn’t mention Nix, or maybe he omitted it purposefully. (Yeah the brain rotting is severe) Because decades later Dick said he confided Nix with his inner thoughts, that he could help Nix understand him. No doubt they understood each other. But anyway, Dick wrote himself that he couldn’t write his true feelings under the condition he was in. (Also he questioned whether love exists, such a pain) Also one thing, operation Varsity was just about two weeks prior.

[youcalledmebabe]

69 for winnix 👉👈?

send me a pairing and a number and I’ll write a drabble for you

a little prequel babe’s anatomy winnix for you!

69. “Why the hell are you bleeding!?”

Dick stares at the white curtain, trying not to get irritated about the plastics intern taking his sweet time coming downstairs. It’s five thirty a.m. What could possibly be more pressing than an ER page? Didn’t Lew give them the answer pages at a run lecture? Eugene had it down but then, Dick was lucky. He’d gotten the best intern.

He keeps looking at the curtain. It’s actually not white, it’s very pale blue, with little flowers and—seriously where is Peacock. He allows himself a sigh. A little blood drips onto his UMich t-shirt.

Someone yanks the curtain aside, almost pulling the rod down with it. Lew stands, in rumpled blue scrubs, chest heaving. See? He takes pages at a run.

“What happened to you? Why did I have to hear from Malarkey that you were in the ER after being slashed?” Lew demands.

Dick smiles, a little wry. “It’s nothing. A small laceration. Your intern was supposed to take care of it.”

“How did you get slashed? Why are you saying that like it’s normal? You’re from Pennsylvania,” Lew says, snapping on a pair of gloves.

“A man approached me on my run this morning and wanted some money. I didn’t have any. He got angry.”

The frown on Lew’s face deepens. He starts to clean the cut, one hand on Dick’s jaw, the other carefully dabbing under his eye. Zygomatic bone, Dick thinks, flashing back to anatomy. He’s just grateful it wasn’t his eye.

“The one time I don’t go with you,” Lew says.

Dick snorts. “The one time?”

Lew shakes his head and takes out a suture kit before replacing his gloves.

“You’re going to do my stitches?” Dick says, incredulous. “Shouldn’t you be reconstructing an ear or repairing a cleft palate?”

“It was stitch you up or prep Strayer’s wife for her yearly facelift.”

Lew dabs numbing cream on Dick’s face. His touch is soft, delicate, somehow gentler than any of the other surgeons. Their eyes meet and Dick wonders, for the millionth time, if he remembers their kiss. If he ever thinks about it. It’s on the tip of Dick’s tongue; it always is, but he thinks of his father’s advice. Some things should stay buried.

Lew pierces him with the needle and Dick winces. “Sorry,” Lew murmurs, running his thumb over his forehead. Almost a caress. Almost is all they get these days, with Lew and Cathy ‘working on their marriage’ and ‘prioritizing couple time.’

“I just can’t believe you were going to let Peacock at you with a needle,” Lew says.

Dick watches him, enjoys his full attention. He can’t believe it either now; he should’ve called Nix right away. What a nice twist of fate that he should get injured while Lew is working. “He’s an intern,” he says. “How else will he learn? He needs practice. Nobody is hopeless after practice.”

Lew bites his lip in concentration. “Some faces are too pretty to be practice.”

Dick hopes there isn’t a pleased scarlet flush on his face. Pretty. He knows, but he only really hears it from Deetta these days. “Is that the official position of the plastics department?”

“Now that Peacock is the future? Yes,” Lew says. He finishes the stitch and pulls back, taking a second to admire his work. “There. Shouldn’t even scar.”

“Thanks, Nix.”

“Anytime,” he says, slipping off his gloves. “But you’re not allowed to run without me again.”

“Sure,” Dick humors him. Lew’s been working nights to avoid Cathy and when he’s not working nights, he’s drinking himself to sleep. He’ll believe it when he sees it.

⚕️⚕️⚕️

The next morning, Lew sits on the edge of the park fountain in his blue Yale shirt. He’s blinking, bleary, but here. Maybe Dick gets more than almost after all.

[lightthewaybackhome]

Hang Tough: The WWII Letters and Artifacts of Major Dick Winters by Erik Dorr My rating: 5 of 5 stars This book took me a bit to get into, but it was fascinating to read. I think the part that struck me the most was how different Winter's tone in his letters was after Normandy. He was far more sarcastic almost scathing even. After a time, that evened out a bit. It was crazy the change you could see between before and after combat. I also appreciated how careful he was not to lead DeEtta on and to try and protect her feelings. I love all the advice he gave her and their teasing. It's always dangerous to see your hero's close up, but reading Winter's letters to DeEtta didn't make me lose my fondness for this man or my respect for him. It did make him seem more like a man and less up on the pedestal but in a good way. It reminded me that he loved being a paratrooper but had little respect for much of the rest of the military. He loved his men but held himself at a distance from them. He was proud of his actions in Holland. He was proud of being a Major. He always wanted to do right by his men. He was good friends with Nixon and Welsh, and thought highly of Talbert and Moose. This was an excellent addition to my books on Winters. I kinda want to read them in a semi-chronological order. View all my reviews

[airecolorceluloide]

“Gonna Fly Now” de Bill Conti, de DeEtta Little y Nelson Pigford en voz, de la película “Rocky” (1976).

[comedyonvinyl]

Episode 387 - DeEtta West talks about Cleavon Little (via ComedyOnVinyl.com)

New Post has been published on ComedyonVinyl.com

I’m joined this week by the fantastic singer and actress DeEtta West, to talk about the work and legacy of her brother, the late Cleavon Little.

Host: Jason Klamm Producer: Mike Worden Guest: DeEtta West

Please subscribe to us on Apple Podcasts, follow us on Twitter and like us at the Facebooks.

©2011-2021 StolenDress Entertainment

View the Original Post and Listen to Podcast Episode Here

[stolendress]

Comedy on Vinyl Podcast Episode 387 - DeEtta West talks about Cleavon Little I’m joined this week by the fantastic singer and actress DeEtta West, to talk about the work and legacy of her brother, the late Cleavon Little. Host: Jason Klamm Producer: Mike Worden Guest: DeEtta West Please subscribe to us on Apple Podcasts, follow us on Twitter and like us at the F View Original Post and Listen to Episode Here: https://is.gd/Wklf40 (via The Comedy on Vinyl Podcast)

View the Original Post Here

[mercurygray]

22 and 27 from the situations prompts for Annie in the Weekly Specials AU 😉 Juno xx

A letter is on the table waiting for you Your shoes are soaking wet

She'd been waiting for this day for weeks now.

It was raining in Lancaster, fine weather for ducks but not much else, a slow, steady downpour that should have been snow and had not let up for the last hour. Umbrella in hand, Annie could feel the tops of her galoshes slowly filling up with rain, socks already almost soaking and shoes surely to follow. But nothing - nothing - was going to keep her from meeting this train.

COMING HOME DECEMBER BRINGING WIFE WILL EXPLAIN ON ARRIVAL.

Coming home, December - that made sense. His enlistment was up and the war was over and that was what people did, when wars ended - they came home. There'd been another telegram, from New York this time - BOAT DOCKED WILL BE ON 5 PM TRAIN 12/15.

But those words in the middle floated tantalizing offshore, unreachable and unknown. Bringing wife. Will explain.

"Well, someone had better," her mother had said, too stunned to say much else. But something in Annie had started vibrating with excitement.

Her brother had gotten married. She had a sister.

Had it been sudden, this marriage of his? People talked at school about shotgun weddings and angry fathers and she liked to think that her older brother had more sense, but wars were strange and people came out of them different, and maybe that was true for him, too. Married! She couldn't see it - or if she could, the woman didn't have a face. Would she be pretty? Would she be funny? Would she be kind? He'd talked a little about DeEtta, the girl in Georgia, and had sent home a picture or two, but DeEtta wouldn't be coming home with him from Europe. Was she French, maybe, or English? Did she still have a home, or was she coming with Dick because that place was gone and she needed someplace new? Was there a baby? (She'd heard her mother and father discussing that one night after dinner, terrified that this would be true. Was her brother the sort that would do that?) Would she know them, when they got off the train here in Lancaster? Would they know her?

It had been nearly three years since she'd seen Dick - she'd done some growing since then, nearly four inches up and a whole mess of dress sizes. Practically an adult now, in all the ways that counted, even if her mother wouldn't let her get a pair of heels or wear her hair up or go to the USO to dance on Fridays as a junior hostess, even if they'd take you young as fifteen. Would her brother know her, after all that time away? Would he mind that Annie was the one who had come to greet them?

She shivered again in her galoshes, mittened hands clasped around the handle of the umbrella, and rested the shaft against her shoulder, trying not to think about the cold. The train was late - the 2 pm out of Penn Station in New York should have pulled into Lancaster at five, but it was nearly five-thirty and she was sure her mother was going to murder her for being late for dinner, but what was she supposed to do about a train that wouldn't come? Dick would need to be welcomed, and her father was working late, and her mother didn't want to, so it had fallen to Annie to pick the newlyweds up.

A whistle sounded in the distance, steam rolling out of the night as the train made its approach, the platform springing to life with conductors in rain slickers moving forward out of the railway office, the light from the engine bouncing off the rain. Annie hung back as the doors snapped open and people began to descend, hats jammed onto heads and collars pulled up against the rain

There he was - a man in an olive-drab overcoat, wearing a crusher cap, skin pale in the light of the platform and the rain. And then, turning back to take a case and help a woman down -

Annie couldn't see her very well, but she thought she saw dark hair under a stylish hat, a fur collar on her coat. And something about the way he held her hand…

She shifted the umbrella to one hand and waved, and he squinted in the dark, trying to make out who it was before he waved back, picking up the case he'd left on the ground when he'd reached up to help her down. They must have had a truck, or else his footlocker - no one's life ever fit into a bag that small.

"Annie."

"Hi, Dick." She felt tiny again, looking at her big brother. He was strange, somehow, the new insignia on his shoulders and the crusher cap, which he'd never worn before.

"And this is - Joan." He paused, before he said the name, as if somehow he wasn't sure he was allowed, if it was something that belonged to him.

"Hello, Annie." The woman held out a hand, her voice unmistakably British, like one of those actresses in the movies. And she looked like one, too, with her fur collar and her hair and her hat. Her mother had been talking up an image of some woman who was cheap and small and had probably tricked her brother up to the altar, but there was nothing cheap or ordinary about Joan - or the way Dick looked at her. "Your brother's told me all about you."

She felt pride in that, a warm rush of being known, and she knew, the way that she'd said it, that it had been good things, things she wanted to know. But she still didn't know Joan, and she had so many questions, but Dick spoke first.

"Where's mom and dad?"

"Dad's working late and mom couldn't - she didn't - she couldn't come. Should we get out of the rain?"

"Yes, let's," Joan said, obviously noticing something her brother didn't about Annie's hesitation and trying to cover it up too. She cared - about him, about what his mother would think, and suddenly the way Joan was holding his arm meant more. "We can send for the trunk, can't we?"

Annie could still see her mother's face, when she'd left this afternoon, hidden in the kitchen as she worked on chopping potatoes for the roast for dinner. You won't be disappointed, Mom, she wanted to say. You can't be. You don't even know her yet.

[winnix85]

Dick bought clothes so often and he asked DeEtta to send him clothes multiple times. I’m wondering how frequently his clothes were stolen...

May 31, 1942: The big problem nowadays is buying clothes. They sure are high priced and it’s hard to get just what you want. But, boy, it’s fun, just like having a dream turn out to be true.

15 July 1944: I expect I’ll go to London though and see some shows and do a little shopping for clothes that I had pilfered from me while we were gone.

13 Dec. 1944–France: Took in a couple of good shows, bought some clothes, and best of all, got to sleep between two sheets on a bed with springs.

April 16, 1945: Thanks for sending those quarter sleeve shirts. The way you talk about the size, I am wondering if they’ll be big enough for a tent.

26 May 1945: I received your second package the other day with the second batch of three quarter sleeve shirts and sweat shirt. All fit just fine.

28 June 1945: No, damn it, those shirts you sent are just right. They’re not too big. But what are those buttonholes along the bottom for?

11 August 1945: This should be good, to fly to England, spend one night in London, see some shows, buy some clothes I need. 

[thoughpoppiesblow]

(I hope I did this right!) The Ardennes, Georgia Fenley, Dick Winters, Lewis Nixon, and letters + intelligence

This is perfect! I had a lot of fun with this one, I hope you like it. Bonus points if anyone catches the NCIS line I paraphrased.

Thirsty Thursday Prompt List

Taglist:  @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @punkgeekchic @liebegott @mavysnavy @hoosiers-hoe @floydtab @stressedinadress @vintagelavenderskies @wexhappyxfew @mrsalwayswrite @adamantiumdragonfly @julianneday1701

“Lewis Nixon if you do not move your arm I’m going to rip it off and beat you to death with it.”

“God, somebody woke up on the wrong side of our foxhole.”

“Son of a bitch -”

“Georgia, please don’t murder my intelligence officer.” Dick sighed as he slid into the foxhole he shared with Lew and Georgia.

“It’s not murder, Dick, it’s justifiable homicide.” Georgia said. “If he doesn’t want to die then he shouldn't act like this.”

“Georgia I’m pretty sure we’ve all got a death wish. We volunteered to jump out of a perfectly functional airplane.” Nix muttered.

“Anything new on the intelligence front?” Dick asked.

“Oh, not really. Anything new from Miss DeEtta Almon of Lancaster Pennsylvania?” Nix asked.

Georgia laughed softly as Dick groaned in embarrassment. “No Lew, nothing new from DeEtta since we left Holland.”

“Damn shame, I was hoping for some entertainment out here.”

“Hey, that’s what I’m here for - at least according to General Bradley.” Georgia said sarcastically.

“Be careful what you say Georgia.” Dick said to her with a pointed look.

“What, are you worried Hinkle might - sorry, I forgot you boys weren’t there for that.”

“There for what?” Nix asked.

 “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well now I’m going to worry about it.”

“Jesus fucking Christ Lewis.”

“Don’t call me Lewis!”

“Goddamnit -”

Dick let a rare smile grace his features as he listened to his friends argue. He stared out into the empty woods of the Boi Jacques that night feeling a little better than the night before.

[evidenceof]

thinking about "I am always glad when the astronauts are safely back to earth, so I would appreciate a call when you are back home and I can share your de-briefing memories of your tour." again...

For context, Dick's letter to Nix (and Grace) talking about their imminent trip to Tibet.

Hello anon! Aaaa I think many of us really cherish that letter—one of the first we read that's actually addressed to Nix. Lol, the first (second, third) time I read it, it made me cry lmaooo. Tenderness, man. Fucks me Right Up. Idk if you're expecting a Winnix ramble but here it goes lol!!

Makes me wonder if it was a reference to something they shared, or if it was just a casual mention of the goings-on of the 80s (fast tracked space exploration and all that, first American woman in space too!). It's such a fond line. Drives me insane any time I remember it and the familiarity of the sentiment. Messes me up a little too thinking about the possibility that they didn't speak much after Dick leaving NJ. Dick writing the letters to Nix (constantly) despite. He just wants to hear from him like he always did, like he'd gotten used to. Dick being so happy just to get that signature from Nix.

God he loved him so very much. Wish he knew the word for it apart from soldierly devotion. But then again, Dick equates love to "understanding" (letter to DeEtta where he blows a fuse for the nth time. He says, I don't know what love is DONT ASK ME!!.) Then goes on to say only his parents understand him, and maybe Harry, which to me levels it with 'love'). Anyway, Dick believes with his whole entire 80 year old chest that he was the only man who truly understood Nix.

This is probably Grace's doing, but I really love how they're (some) of Dick's letters sent out, that isn't Ambrose book related, that were preserved. We see some sent to Spiers re: the book, and none of the ones Dick sent to Harry.

I think more than anything, I just like to imagine them talking on the phone, wrinkled and voices rattling with age. Imagining maybe what Dick feels when it rings and it's Lew (if he presses the receiver closer to his face). And it's the same voice that called him when he got back stateside in '45, when Dick didn't want to see anybody, not even his hometown friends. Back when he couldn't get himself out of his class As and into civvies. Dick, who always wanted to be so sure about everything, picked up the phone and it was Lew asking if he'd come. And suddenly there was no doubt in Dick's mind that he would, even if that meant going against what his father wanted. The only reason he needed was that the thought of seeing Nix was nice when nothing else felt that way.

So I think of him at sixty years old, hearing his best friend's voice over the phone and it sounds a lot like realizing you want to come back home even after you've seen the moon.

I think that's grand.

Reference to DeEtta letter:

Parts of Dick Winters letter to DeEtta Almon dated 10 April 1945

[thatonerandomnamehere]

It should be a crime how beautifully Little Dude Ollie is growing up. Him and Blue (previously Boo) both. They are a little under 5 months old now, and I have been happy to watch them grow since they were 7-8 weeks old.

Fun little behind the scenes of Dance of the Damned: while I was originally going off of remembering how Gizmo and DeEtta were as kittens five years ago for Tricolstic, having two kittens come into my life when they did was a huge help. (Funny how both sets of siblings came into my life during difficult times, blessings from Freyja in all their chaotic glory.) While Blue has a very bold personality, she doesn't interact with me much unless food is involved. Meanwhile, Ollie has been practically living in my room along with Gizmo, my other kitty inspiration for Tricolstic. Between the two, I have been getting a good deal of observation for characterization done.

Of course, I am drawing inspiration for a creature made of magic, so there are creative liberties utilized.

Here are some bonus pics of my ornery fur children, specifically Gizmo and Little Dude Ollie.