Home > Columns > Jina’s Book Chat > Veterans Day and Doughnut Dollies

I love this fabulous painting outside the Salvation Army Building in Tulare, CA re: the photographer © Karinoza – Dreamstime.com .

 

I was a doughnut dolly.

Back in the day, I served with the U.S. Army in Livorno, Italy. My job was to make coffee and play pool with the troops, set up entertainment and gourmet tours.

And make cookies. I whipped up hundreds and hundreds of cookies. Chocolate chip.

And doughnuts, too. I got help from the mess hall sergeant, a bespectacled guy from the Midwest who let me commandeer his big pots. Along with my Italian liaison, Maria, we’d cook up hot doughnuts and top them with powdered sugar we got from the PX, a sweet favorite with the boys.

Those were the days.

I’m proud of the time I spent with US Army Special Services — I made turkeys, fruitcakes, hot chocolate, and tons of cookies!

So on this Veterans Day I think about all the Doughnut Dollies who helped bring our servicemen and women a touch of home.

Especially on this 100th Anniversary of Armistice Day when the treaty was signed in a railcar in the French forest on the eleventh day of the eleventh month at the eleventh hour.

God bless all those who have served our country. Thank you.

Jina

PS — For fun, I put on my old uniform with U.S. Army Service Clubs patch. And yeah, I lost the hat years ago somewhere in Italy.


For this Veterans Day, my Civil War time travel romance is on sale for 99 cents!

 

She wore gray…he wore blue…but their love defied time

Love Me Forever

http://amzn.com/B00YI8SX68

How many women soldiers fought in the Civil War?


And check out this audio/video excerpt from Chapter 1 of my WW 2 sweet romance.

Christmas 1943

American soldier and an Italian nun in war torn Italy dare to fall in love…

The captain thinks he’s found Shangri-La until he realizes there’s stolen art, Nazis and a whole lotta snow

A Soldier’s Italian Christmas on Amazon

http://amzn.to/1bcVMwG

Author Details
Author Details
I discovered early on that I inherited the gift of the gab from my large Irish family when I penned a story about a princess who ran away to Paris with her pet turtle Lulu. I was twelve. I grew up listening to their wild, outlandish tales and it was those early years of storytelling that led to my love of history and traveling. I enjoy writing to classical music with a hot cup of java by my side. I adore dark chocolate truffles, vintage anything, the smell of bread baking and rainy days in museums. I’ve always loved walking through history—from Pompeii to Verdun to Old Paris. The voices of the past speak to me through carriages with cracked leather seats, stiff ivory-colored crinolines, and worn satin slippers. I’ve always wondered what it was like to walk in those slippers when they were new.

THE ORPHANS OF BERLIN

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THE ORPHANS OF BERLIN

THE LOST GIRL IN PARIS

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THE LOST GIRL IN PARIS

RESISTANCE GIRL

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RESISTANCE GIRL

THE RUNAWAY GIRL

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THE RUNAWAY GIRL

HER LOST LOVE

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HER LOST LOVE

A NAUGHTY CHRISTMAS CAROL

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A NAUGHTY CHRISTMAS CAROL

A SOLDIER’S ITALIAN CHRISTMAS

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A SOLDIER’S ITALIAN CHRISTMAS

COME FLY WITH ME

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COME FLY WITH ME

LOVE ME FOREVER

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LOVE ME FOREVER

SISTERS AT WAR

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SISTERS AT WAR

SISTERS OF THE RESISTANCE

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SISTERS OF THE RESISTANCE
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I discovered early on that I inherited the gift of the gab from my large Irish family when I penned a story about a princess who ran away to Paris with her pet turtle Lulu. I was twelve. I grew up listening to their wild, outlandish tales and it was those early years of storytelling that led to my love of history and traveling. I enjoy writing to classical music with a hot cup of java by my side. I adore dark chocolate truffles, vintage anything, the smell of bread baking and rainy days in museums. I’ve always loved walking through history—from Pompeii to Verdun to Old Paris. The voices of the past speak to me through carriages with cracked leather seats, stiff ivory-colored crinolines, and worn satin slippers. I’ve always wondered what it was like to walk in those slippers when they were new.

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