Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Artist From WWII's Foxholes

       
         Carolyn Gilbert hosted a remarkable fellow (a remarkable lady herself, she knows how to do that). On Veteran's Day, William A. Foley, Jr., (at left) gave a lecture on his experience working on his book, Visions from a Foxhole: A Rifleman in Patton's Ghost Corps. ISBN 978-0-89141-850-4. In her column in the Times Record News, Gilbert explains how she met Foley.
         Foley served in the 94th Infantry Division under General George S. Patton. During that time, he sketched some of the scenes he witnessed as an infantryman. Below he shows the unbridled joy the infrantrymen felt when the P-47s arrived to assist them in battle.

       
        Highly descriptive with his words, one cannot help but feel the experiences he had as he related them during his lecture. In regard to his ability to write, he mentioned that not until later in his life he learned that he could tell his story, and he does very well, I say.

         
          Foley sketched himself and his own personal experiences in addition to the men around him. Above he shows himself lunging away from a truck before it is hit by a mortar.
          Click on the images to visit his website and to view more artwork.
Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin

JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.