Floogle Street

Enlisted men of the Fifteenth Air Force in Italy have a new game to fight off boredom and jitters. When they play it, they say they are "living on Floogle Street." In one form of the pastime (noted by A.P.man Hal Boyle) two soldiers waiting at the mess hall begin talking in low, serious tones:

"Yes, she fell out of the window, all right. Had the baby in her arms, too."

"I hear she tripped over the radio wire."

"Fell out of the window, huh? Must be one-and-a-half, two flights."

"Was three. Fell smack on the sidewalk."

"Was the baby hurt?"

"Nah, when she found it, it was smoking a pipe."

"She all right, too?"

"I told you, she was playing the radio."

As soon as one of the nearby soldiers, ears flapping, breaks down and asks whatthehell, the players grin and explain:

"Oh, just spending a little time on Floogle Street."

Floogle Street has become a part of G.I. lingo. A soldier sent on a sleeveless errand now calls it a "Floogle Street assignment." The sergeant who inflicts it on him is "flying Floogle Street."

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