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help The Adventures of the Quarter Slot Sisters


In recent years there have been countless books turned into Hollywood movies about “Southern Belles”, the majority of whom are played by Yankee actresses with fake southern accents and even in the case of Scarlett O’Hara by a British actress.  I will say that Vivien Leigh did a better impersonation than most of the other so called southern actresses.  These actresses sit around in beauty parlors perpetuating the stereotypical idea of what a “southern belle” really is. We don’t hate men and all want to be prom queens riding on floats and blowing kisses to the adoring crowds (Sweet Potato Queens); we don’t subscribe to the theory that the higher the hairdo the closer we are to heaven (Steel Magnolias); we don’t drink too much and mess up our daughter’s lives (Ya Ya Sisterhood)….you get the picture. 

This list could be endless but the point I want to make is that the sordid stories you’re read or the Hollywood movie versions you’ve seen aren’t the real portrayals of what is meant by the term “southern belle”. The stories I am going to tell are the real deal…right from the Peach state…true life accounts from the “Quarter Slot Sisters” .
Our story is not the typical saga of girls who knew each other from childhood or met in college and formed an immediate life long bond. You see our friendship didn’t start until our husbands retired and we all moved from various parts of the country to a little remote section of central Georgia which we refer to as Paradise.  
This is our story.

The Seas of War

The Seas of War is a look into the life and times of Barbara Williamson Pomarolli as she bravely served her country as a Red Cross worker on the USS Repose during the Vietnam war.

Excerpt:

April 29, 1967:  Personal Feelings

We are back in Da Nang and discharged 150 patients.  We met our sister hospital ship, USS Sanctuary, in the harbor.  The captain said she was moving out of the harbor because of the danger of being fired on from the beach.  I suppose it was okay for us to be there because we anchored.  The army had moved up to Chu Lai and the Marines were moving further north in preparation for some big operation in the area.  It didn't appear that things were getting better.

I felt so depressed about saying goodbye to so many patients who had become my friends.  During the weeks they were on the ship, many had poured out their hearts and told me stories of combat, suffering, fear, and courage.  I had so much respect for the Marine Corp after getting to know these men.  I hated to think of them going back to the DMZ where they would be mortared every night and many would be wounded again or killed.

There was always such a void when they left because I had seen them on ship every day, talked with, and played games with many.  I got frequent letters from former patients thanking me and telling me that I reminded them of a sister, daughter, wife, or sweetheart.  It was hard not to be depressed, but we had to move on because new patients were arriving daily.  I always felt like I was needed and appreciated and felt guilty about complaining about little inconveniences.