Mike Bo's Blog!

14.08.2017
MIKE BOTULA
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MikeBo's Blog! Soleggiato: 90°F/32°C Roma, Lazio, Italia Partly Sunny & Hot: 100°F/38°C Cedar Park, Texas                     A friend who dies, it’s something of you who dies.  Gustave Flaubert Buonagiornata!     August 14th also fell on a Monday in 1944. Seventy-three years ago today at 4:54 p.m. a torpedo from the U 667 exploded at the stern of my dad’s sister ship, LST 921. The blast broke the ship’s Charlie Botula and LST 920 back, and within the next few minutes, the aft portion of the ship would sink along with half of the crew. My father, Lt. Charles Botula, Jr. watched from the bridge of his ship, LST 920, as a second torpedo cut through the water heading directly toward his ship. Suddenly, a British escort ship, LCI(L) 99 steamed between LST 920 and the oncoming torpedo, and was blown out of the water.        Following an anxiety-filled, but otherwise uneventful voyage across the North Atlantic, LST 920 was in a convoy steaming across the Dover Channel from Milford Haven, Wales on the final leg of its long wartime journey to Falmouth, England. It should have been steaming toward the Pacific, but wartime logistics had suddenly changed and now it was headed for Normandy. Ensign John J. Waters noted in the ship’s log at 16:54 hours that LST 921, sister ship to the LST 920 had been hit by a torpedo. American and British lives would be lost, many sailors would be wounded and many individual acts of heroism would be noted. But, the event itself would merely be recorded in official Allied wartime records and little notice taken until many years later.       My dad told that story to my brother Packy and I over Sunday dinner for years. But, the whatevers nagged at me for decades. Whatever happened to that Nazi U-boat after the attack? Whatever happened to Captain Harry Schultz? Whatever happened to the guys that Ensign Harold Willcox pulled out of the water? Whatever happened to the crew of that British ship? My father’s story and the remaining questions it raised, eventually prompted me to put my journalistic skills to work on a very  personal family story, and in August of 2016, my book LST 920: Charlie Botula’s Long, Slow Target! was published by Amazon Books. So, my annual tribute to my father’s war-time Das Book! close call is also an opportunity to circulate a reminder about my own contribution to American literature and the history of World War 2. LST 920: Charlie Botula’s Long, Slow Target! is available in paperback, a Kindle version from Amazon Books, and a print-on-demand paperback edition is available from Barnes and Noble. (You can either order on-line from BarnesandNoble.com or in the store at the Customer Service desk). Readers in Australia and New Zealand can order it from Booktopia.com. Elements of dad’s story also appear prominently on my website: www.MikeBotula.com.       Charlie Botula came home from the Pacific War in December 1945. I remember that moment just as vividly as I remember attending the commissioning of LST 920 in June of 1944. After he came home, the family moved back to Riverhead on New York’s Long Island and we all went on with our lives. Other young veterans came home, too, to build their homes and raise their families. Some of them married their high school sweethearts and started families. A few others brought home their war brides, bashful young women with odd-sounding accents. After a while,  among the returning veterans, there were other people with strange Commissioning- June 17, 1944 accents, DP’s. DP was an acronym for Displaced Person, the official Red Cross designation for people who had lost everything because of the war in Europe. About the time I entered third grade I started making friends with new classmates, who spoke little or no English. We grew up together.       Mary Botula died in April 1961 after a long battle with cancer. Dad survived the war by 20 years, dying just a few days short of his birthday in October 1965. Packy went back to college, got his commission and spent his career in the US Air Force. I went back to Arizona where I was working in radio and went about building my career. In 1966, along with my new wife Donna, we went on to California where we both built careers and raised our two children-Dana Lynne and Michael. Through all my travels, I brought along Charlie Botula’s  family photos, Navy records and letters, and other personal documents. As we moved on with our lives, the memories of dad’s war stories faded somewhat, but I continued to carry them with me.        One evening in 2003, as I surfed the internet I came across a website devoted to World War 2 Don Reed in 1944 Navy veterans. On a whim, and without any expectations, I left a message: My father, Lt. Charles Botula, Jr. served aboard the LST 920 as executive officer from June 1944 until December 1945. I would like to hear from anyone who might have served with him. A few days later I heard from the LST 920’s former communications, officer Don Reed. Mike, I served aboard the LST 920 from its commissioning in June 1944 until it was decommissioned in 1946. I knew your dad very well. Please let me know how we can get in touch.        That brief exchange opened a whole new vista for me on dad’s wartime experiences. The first stop was to meet Reed and talk to him first-hand about my dad and his war-time experiences. So, my son Michael and I drove from my home in Sacramento, California to Alameda across the bay from San Francisco to meet Ensign Reed. Michael never knew his grandfather since dad died in 1965. seven years before my son was born. Over dinner, Reed shared his photos, his recollections and his research about the attack on his convoy in 1944. He too, had survived that experience with many unanswered questions. Next step for me was to reach out to other crew members from both LSTs who had lived through that experience. A letter to the U.S. LST Association brought me a list of ten or so, veterans of the two LSTs who were members.  I wrote to each one of them, asking if they would share their memories.       Their response was heartwarming. Seaman Larry Biggio had started a website dedicated to the U 667 - The Villain crew of LST 920. Biggio and Reed had kept meticulous track of the crew of the LST 920 and of the ship’s timeline throughout the time it was in commission. I relied heavily on their research in writing the book. Radioman Fred Benck and Seaman Joe Wallace wrote accounts of that long ago day. From the ill-fated LST 921 I talked by phone with Master Machinist John Edmonds and Seaman Lloyd Meeker who gave me their accounts of their escape from the engine room of their sinking ship. Captain Harry Schultz’s son Tim, his grandson Robert and nephew Kelly Schultz provided valuable insights and information about the pivotal character in my story. Captain Schultz had disobeyed direct orders to bring the LST 920 about and return to rescue the survivors of the 921 and the British escort vessel. I talked by phone with Engineering Officer Jerry Gerard who was a good friend of my dad’s and served with him.       Other accounts came from Tom Willcox, the son of the heroic Ensign Harold Willcox, who dove repeated into the chilly waters of the Dover Channel to rescue survivors. John Ross, the stepson of Skip and Charles Botula 1945 Seaman Ray Willis contributed some 200 photos from the LST 920’s clandestine darkroom. Photos and memories were also contributed by Robert Waters, son of Ensign John Waters, who witnessed the torpedoing from the bridge and noted it in the ship’s log. I also was able to meet and talk with the Engineering Officer from the LST 921, former Ensign Don Joost, who trained with my father and knew him well. My father and other survivors of that event knew only that they had been attacked by a German U-boat, but nothing beyond that. My father never mentioned over those Sunday war story telling’s, that the German tracked them for several days following the attack, looking for another kill. But, when former Ensign Don Reed guided me to the wartime records in the National Archives, I struck the mother lode of wartime Nazi Navy history.      From the German archival website uboat.net which is dedicated to the wartime German Kriegsmarine, I was able to research the U-boat that carried out the attack, the U-667, from its launching in 1942 at Hamburg, Germany to its encounter with a deadly mine on August 25, 1944. Onward and upward! Ciao, MikeBo © Mike Botula 2017 [Mike Botula is the author of LST 920: Charlie Botula’s Long, Slow Target! writer of  MikeBo’s Blog and producer of the website www.mikebotula.com.  Mike’s book is available from Amazon.com or on-demand at Barnes & Noble.
08.08.2017
MIKE BOTULA
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MikeBo’s Blog! Tuesday August 8, 2017 Soleggiato e caldo a Roma 98°F/37°C Scattered thundershowers 92°F/33°C in Cedar Park, Texas Buongiorno amici miei!      A few days ago my Facebook news feed popped out an item which instantly caught my attention! (SPOILER ALERT: This has NOTHING to do with Donald Trump or politics!) It was the tale of a cable TV customer who was amazed to learn that he could watch his local television channels for FREE if he hooked his TV set up to an ANTENNA. I realized instantly that this poor soul was not of my generation. For, I recall in the dim distant past running home from school, turning on the Emerson black and white TV set in our living room and sitting through a snowy test pattern from one of the New York stations so I could watch Howdy Doody! Since we lived almost 100 miles from New York City, our signal was, should I say, less than crisp!  But after my dad spent $450 on the TV set and another $100 for the outside antenna, at least the test pattern and Howdy Doody and Captain Video were FREE!      But, back to the future. Now I’m looking back at decades of cable television service, back to the primeval era when cable TV was called CATV, or Community Access TV. Now, we all belong to the Online Generation!      Back in the distant past, my first monthly bill for cable TV service was about twenty bucks. Nowadays, by the time I added up all of my electronic necessities like cell phone, house phone, cable TV and internet services I was in thrall to my carrier for an amount approaching the entire defense budget of a banana republic. Something had to give! Either I could continue eating and paying my share of the price for my retirement plan health services, or I could stay in touch with the world and keep blogging about starving to death on Twitter and Facebook. Shortly after I moved to Texas I decided to make some adjustments, but I soon found that cutting the apron strings is not any less a task than a rebellious teenager who is wriggle out of the grasp of a domineering parent.  Here’s how I did it.       First thing to go was my landline. Nearly every call was from a telemarketer. My voicemail in-box was cluttered with charity pitches, solicitations for services or instructions to Press ONE to be connected to a live operator!  I used my home phone only rarely. My home phone was nothing more than a repository for hang-up calls, junk faxes and telemarketers. My carrier was helpless when it came to purging the robocalls. Then, I set out to systematically wean myself of my cable TV service. It turned out to be a lengthy process fraught with finding alternatives and facing constant challenges from my provider.      My first major purchase after I moved to Texas was a big screen, Smart HD TV set. Like all state-of-the-art TVs, it possessed a built-in computer and was internet ready. It also has multiple HDMI inputs for other components, and it also carries a number of apps for news channels and selected entertainment channels for shows and movies and games. The big screen TV replaced my older 30 inch HD TV, which now sits on my desk in my office. After a few months of being tethered to the ATT U-verse, I made my first move – I shed my land line.  At the same time, after Googling indoor TV antennas, I ordered one from Amazon.com, plugged it in, tuned my television set and – Voila! After a lapse of decades, I was again watching local TV channels for FREE! After trying the new antenna out for several weeks and assuring myself that I was on to something, I hopped in my Ranger and drove to Best Buy and returned home with the next element in my grand plan: Apple TV.  I chose Apple TV because of my experience with my personal IPhone and IPad and the MACs I used at work. Now, the little Apple TV box nestles right under my HDTV.  The indoor antenna rests on a stand right alongside.       As a dress rehearsal for my soon-to-be cable-free life, and since I was going to Rome anyway, I called my provider and had my cable TV service put on vacation hold for two months. I could still bail out of my plan if it did not work to my satisfaction.  So, after watching a combination of free and Apple TV for the next two weeks, I hopped on my flight to Rome.  By the time I returned to Texas, I was ready to take the ultimate step. I called my provider to be told that since I had purchased my internet service and my cable TV service in a bundle,  I could not delete cable TV without also cancelling my internet service. So, I chickened out. As a compromise, I reduced my cable TV service down to basic cable,  which saved about $35 a month. So, by losing my telephone and reducing my cable TV service, I was saving almost $100 a month. Not too shabby, I thought. Then the next monthly bill landed in my mail box. I was paying $85 for Basic Cable. That was fewer local channels than I was getting from my indoor antenna. I was going to have to climb the mountain and have a heart-to-heart talk with God herself. The deity of all communications: AT&T! (The reader can, at this point, substitute Verizon or Sprint etc. for my provider, AT&T).      So, on a day of my choosing, I donned my flak jacket and shorts, grabbed a big cup of black coffee, picked up my cell phone and dialed 6-1-1. After duking it out verbally with the computerized greeter, I was over my initial hurdle and chatting with a real live customer service specialist. I started with a pitch about my lifestyle:  I have become a child of the internet, I explained. I’m retired and I travel a lot. My bank and my credit union don’t even have branches in the state where I live. All of my bills are sent to me by email are and are paid on line. All of my deposits are done via wire transfer. If I have a check to deposit, I do it through my IPhone. I have international roaming on my IPhone. Whatever you, as my provider, may lose in cable TV revenues from me will be more than made up for in roaming and data charges. I will even upgrade my internet connection to a higher speed, but I no longer need cable TV service. For what seemed like an eternity, there was silence on the line.      Then a warm, friendly voice was heard. Of course, sir. I will be happy to assist you in revising your plan.  I was just a little taken aback. I had expected far more resistance. And so it was done. No more cable television. The following days I gathered up my cable boxes and remote control devices and took them to the UPS  store for shipment back to the provider.      Going it alone takes a little work. Deciding which show to watch requires  more than a casual glance at the TV Guide, or surfing the directory of your cable TV package. My indoor antenna picks up four  Austin PBS channels. There’s KLRU HD, the main channel; KLRU-Q, which runs programs from the main channel at different times and is heavy on documentaries and drama series; KLRU-Create, which offers cooking, do it yourself, craft and travel features; and PBS Kids, the 24-hour children’s channel. In addition, subscribers to PBS are eligible for the KLRU Passport, which enables live streaming of all PBS shows. Since I’m a long-time PBS subscriber, this upgrade was a no-brainer.  I’m watching Amazon TV through my big screen HDTV app and have the option to view others. But, my Apple TV is the heart of my operation, and I am constantly adding new apps to my collection. (That’s the tedious part: selecting an email address so you can open accounts with an ID and password, and finding a credit card to pay for the individual applications. For music there’s ITunes and IHeart Radio. So far my television mainstays are CBSN for news, Netflix, HBO Now, Amazon TV,  You Tube, the National Geographic Channel and PBS. I must caution the sole internet streamer that some of the apps promoted in the Apple Store are linked to your cable TV service. That’s how I lost the Turner Networks and my ability to watch the SAG Awards or all those great old movies.  But, trust me, it all balances out.     As an old retired newsguy, I would be remiss if I didn’t touch on my former profession and all the ranting about Fake News! Internet access gives the viewer a new, international  perspective on the news. I subscribe to the New York Times and the Washington Post, of course. But one of my cornerstone news sources is the PBS Newshour. PBS also carries BBC America and DW TV, the German news service based in Berlin. They also offer NHK News from Tokyo and several other news programs which I watch to stay current. DW TV and Al Jazeera are also stream-able. There are apps in the Apple Store for both of them. I even subscribe to RAI-TV from Rome. RAI covers my quest for news and enables me to practice my Italian at the same time. CBSN has replaced CNN as my regular hourly news source. So, I am finding that, if you make the effort to connect with new sources of information and entertainment you can broaden your horizons. And, as I write this blog, my IPad and IPhone have lit up with breaking news bulletins from a variety of international sources about the President of South Africa surviving a vote of confidence. I may be living in the heart of Texas, but I’m in touch! Onward and Upward! Ciao, MikeBo © Mike Botula 2017 [Mike Botula is the author of LST 920: Charlie Botula’s Long, Slow Target!  (Amazon Books)  MikeBo’s Blog is a wholly owned subsidiary of his web site www.mikebotula.com , and is linked to Facebook,  Twitter,   LinkedIn and Google Plus!]
18.06.2017
MIKE BOTULA
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MikeBo’s Blog! Soleggiatio e caldo 88°F/31°C in Roma, Lazio, Italia Cloudy 77°F/ 25°C Cedar Park, Texas Buonagiornata! Fatherhood is great because you can ruin someone from scratch!  Jon Stewart Father’s Day, 1944 also fell on Sunday June 18th. And, while I had to look up the date, I can assure one and all that a new necktie or a pair of argyle socks or new golf clubs was the farthest thing Lt. Charles Botula, Jr. 1945 from my dad’s mind back in 1944. Charlie Botula had already been outfitted with a new wardrobe by Uncle Sam, the crisp white uniform of an officer in the United States Navy, and he spent that Father’s Day on the bridge of his brand-new ship, LST 920, as it embarked on its shakedown cruise following its commissioning the day before. I remember the day vividly although I had not yet reached my fourth birthday. It’s one of my earliest childhood memories. It was also the last time I would see my father for almost two years. It’s another vivid childhood memory that many of my contemporaries did not share, because their fathers did not return from the war. While he was away, it fell to my mother to be both mom and dad to her only child. (My brother Packy would not join us until late the following year). While dad was in the navy, Mary Botula moved back to Jamestown, New York to be near her parents and siblings who lived in western New York State.  It was a life faced by millions of other American families. Dad was away in the service.   Not until he came home and he was able to show us the photographs from his ship’s clandestine dark room did we get to see where he had been and really share his experiences. Dad, Mom and Me - June 17, 1944 LST 920 Commissioning Dad was in the service and mom was back at home working to keep the family ties together. Everywhere he sailed, my father kept a small leather folder with photos of his family. My mother had my dad’s pictures in frames all around our second-floor apartment. We made regular trips to the photographer’s studio, so my father would have pictures of his family back home to go along with the frequent letters that Mary would send him. While her letters were full of news about the family and frequently accompanied by family snapshots, dad’s letters home showed the impact of wartime censorship. Geographic locations were vague: somewhere in England, somewhere in France, somewhere in the Pacific. Now, I could bore you to tears with stories about my dad’s influence on my life. He guided my brother and I as we grew up and influenced us as we reached adulthood. He led the way with compassion and honesty and a firm hand. And, while I have many warm memories of both my parents, it wasn’t to be for many years after his death that I really began to get to know him, and concluded that he and I could have become best friends. Retracing his steps through the two years that he was absent from my life, sparked a journey of my own. Every journalist takes on the task of getting to know the person whose story they are telling. It’s a key part of the job. When my father, died in 1965, I became heir to boxes of his personal papers books, photographs and other documents. I kept them in storage for many years until my own retirement. My brother and I had grown up listening to our father’s stories about his Navy service in World War 2. One evening as I visited an internet site devoted to World War 2 history, I left a note in the site’s comments section. My father Lieutenant (jg) Charles Botula Jr., served as Executive Officer aboard LST 920. I would like to contact any former officers or crew members who served with him. It was done impulsively, without any expectation of a reply. To my surprise, I received a reply a few days later. Mike, I was with your father on the commissioning crew of LST 920, served with him during all his time on the ship in Europe and the Pacific, and took his place as Exec when he left. Let me know how to get in touch! Don Reed. That exchange of messages started me on a journey that lasted well over a decade and came into fruition when my book LST 920: Charlie Botula’s Long, Slow Target! was published by Amazon Books, last August. LST 920: Charlie Botula's Long, Slow Target!  1944 Don Reed was the LST 920’s Communications Officer, serving from its commissioning on June 17, 1944 at Hingham, Massachusetts until July 8, 1946 when the ship was decommissioned in San Francisco Bay. Mr. Reed was the LST 920’s last commanding officer. He became my guide and mentor as I retraced my father’s footsteps through that part of our lives. Except for distant, fleeting memories, my father was just a black and white image looking out at me from a picture frame on the mantel during that time of my life. But, to the men who served with him aboard ship, he was a daily presence. Charlie and I got to be pretty good friends, former Ensign Jerry Gerard told me. Gerard was the ship’s engineering officer and an aspiring artist before the war. Among my dad’s papers was a pencil sketch that Gerard had done of him, dated 1944. We used to talk Gerard's Sketch of Dad a lot about our families while we were at sea, he told me. I still had career aspirations to become an artist after the war, and I asked if I could practice on him. He agreed and when I was done with the sketch, I gave it to him as a souvenir. I’m flattered that he kept it all those years. Jerry Gerard is gone now, but, I still have the sketch he did of my dad, and I plan on passing it along to my own son. Because he was on board the entire time that dad served, Reed was the officer who knew him best. In a letter to me in 2003 Reed said, His age must have been around thirty when we formed up our crew, and our Captain was around the same age, which made them the two real ‘old men of the crew, and the only married officers. As Executive Officer, he was not required to stand watches, but he volunteered into it. So, I spent a lot of watches with him, including night watches in fierce Atlantic weather. I remember your dad as being calm and stable, even-tempered, a kind man, Ensign Reed said.  Part of his job was to support the Commanding Officer and see that the crew   carried out the captain’s orders. With your dad’s temperament, he was a good buffer between the captain and the crew. As Executive Officer, he was Captain Schultz’ right hand man and enforcer of the Captain’s leadership, Reed said.  So, the junior officers started to good-naturedly call him ‘the Sheriff’ and he good naturedly did not object. I’m sure that Reed had added the good -naturedly to his description, only because he was telling the story to the son who had grown into adulthood under the tutelage of The Sheriff! As the son of a man who could be a very strict father, Reed’s comments made me smile.  One of dad’s war stories was his account of a Nazi U-boat attack on his convoy and the sinking of Michael and Mary Botula  1945 the LST 920’s sister ship. One torpedo had broken the back of the LST 921 and sent the aft section to the bottom of the Dover Channel along with half of its crew. Another torpedo blew a British escort vessel out of the water as it steamed between the U-boat and dad’s ship, as he watched from the bridge. As I read the other eyewitness accounts and talked to survivors of the attack, I became aware for the first time of the depth of courage that he possessed. That courage was displayed in smaller ways as well. I came down with Yellow Jaundice in the middle of the Pacific, ex-Seaman Larry Biggio told me in a telephone conversation. I was sick as hell. Could’a died for that matter! But, the Jaundice was extremely contagious and none of the other guys would come near me. Your old man was the only person I saw between the time I got sick enough to be confined to quarters, until I was evacuated to the hospital on shore. The exec checked on me several times a day and made sure I had what I needed. Seaman Biggio was evacuated from the ship and spent several months in the hospital before being sent back to the states. I never saw your dad again after I left the ship, Biggio said, but, I think about what he did to help me to this day. I owe him a lot. I owe him my life! One of the great tragedies of the war, is the fact that so many returning veterans, declined to share their experiences with their families. Those that survived the long road through Hell, simply put their experiences behind them and tried to resume their normal lives. My brother and I are fortunate in the fact that our father freely shared his wartime experiences with us, and they were blended in with the other life experiences that our mother and father drew upon as they raised us. As a journalist, I understood that my father had played a part in one of the greatest historical events of the 20th Century. But, even as those experiences unfolded, he had no way of knowing the true impact of his small part in that drama. He was a great story teller, and, his memory inspired me to put my skills to work to tell his story. Charlie Botula had no way of knowing what happened to the survivors of that U-boat attack, or what happened to the survivors of the LST 921 that were rescued from the chilly waters of the Dover Channel by his crew. It was up to me to retrace his steps and reach out to the people and events along his path, and eventually tell his story. One of the people he met along the way was former Ensign Don Joost, the Engineering Officer of the ill-fated sister ship, LST 921. I spent an afternoon with Don and his wife at their home in Walnut Creek, California, talking about the U-boat attack on his ship and the rescue of his shipmates by the  crew of their sister-ship, LST 920. The captain of your dad’s ship, Harry Schultz, disobeyed a standing order to come back and get us, Joost recounted. That took a lot of guts on his part, and he was court-martialed for it! In fact, the whole crew showed a lot of courage, because after the torpedo attack, that U-boat stayed in the area looking for another kill. Badly injured in the attack, Ensign Joost was evacuated to a hospital in England where he recovered from his injuries, and was decorated for bravery for rescuing many of his shipmates from the sinking LST 921. Eventually, he was assigned to another ship. After the war, Joost transferred to a submarine and saw service during the Korean War. I asked him if he knew my father. LST 921 Survivor Ensign Don Joost 1944 Oh yes, he replied. We both served on sister-ships. The ships themselves were built in the same shipyard at Hingham, Massachusetts, and we were both commissioned in the same week. The crews trained together at Camp Bradford, Virginia. There was a very tight bond between the crews of the two ships. Yes, I knew your dad, Mike. There was a slight pause in the conversation, and then Joost said, And you certainly favor your dad! It was a very proud moment.  After its duties in Europe, the LST 920 sailed back across the Atlantic and, after refitting, went on to the Pacific.  My father came home in December 1945 and together my parents lived a full life until cancer took her from us in 1961. After that he was a ship without a rudder and he followed his “Skipper,” as he affectionately called his wife Mary, in 1965. Now, half a century after his death, I still rely on his example to set to set my own course through life. One of my favorite teachers told me time and time again, By example, you teach! I certainly had a great role model. Happy Father’s Day, Charlie Botula!   Grazie mille, papà! Ciao, MikeBo © Mike Botula 2017 [Mike Botula is the author of LST 920: Charlie Botula’s Long, Slow Target!  (Amazon Books)  MikeBo’s Blog is a subsidiary of www.mikebotula.com.  Mike is on Facebook,  Twitter, LinkedIn and Google Plus!] Mike’s book is available from Amazon.com or Barnes and Noble Books.

LST 920: Charlie Botula's Long, Slow Target!

A welcome addition to your WW2 history collection from MikeBotula.com

My new book is available from Amazon Books! Just go to Books at Amazon.com and enter the title or my name in the SEARCH field. Paperback and Kindle!

 

NEW! The paper back version of the book is now available on-line from Barnes and Noble Books! Just enter Mike Botula in the search window on the Barnes and Noble home page. 

 

DOWN UNDER! LST 920: Charlie Botula's Long, Slow Target! Now available in Australia from  Booktopia.com.au