American Ambulance AFS uniform, Yale Aero Club, WW1 Aviator

[nchistory]

American Ambulance AFS uniform, Yale Aero Club, WW1 Aviator.  Got this from a forum member, I think it must be scarce as I've only found one example thus far.  This Ambulance driver was Samuel Sloan Walker of Yale University.  He sieved as an ambulance driver from June 1916 through December, possibly through February 1919. I haven't been able to find much on his Ambulance service.

“Walker regaled them with tales from his summer as a volunteer American ambulance driver.  He assured them that the French women were all they had heard and more !”

He was a member of SSU #1 

SSU1 History 1916

On December 22 of the same year the Section moved near Beauvais, en repos. In January, 1916, it moved to Jaulzy, in February to Cortieux, and then to Méricourt-sur-Somme. From here it was suddenly ordered, on June 22, 1916, to Bar-le-Duc, behind the Verdun front, going from there to Dugny, where it arrived June 28. On July 13 it went en repos at Tannois, Givry-en-Argonne, Triaucourt, and Vaubécourt, all in the Argonne region. On the 15th of August it moved to Château Billemont. On September 11 it spent three days en repos at Triaucourt, and then moved to La Grange-aux-Bois, between the Argonne and Verdun sectors.

On January 19, 1917, the Section again went to Triaucourt en repos, following which it moved to Ippécourt. January 25 found it at Dombasle-en-Argonne, and the 14th of March at Vadelaincourt in the Verdun sector, en repos. 

 

 

Returning back to Yale, Sam Walker. Rowed on Sophomore and Junior crews. Was captain of Yale Squash team, also went out for football.  Sam a member of the Scroll & Key, he joined the 1st Yale Aero Group becoming a member of the "Wag Crew" .

 

 

“Wag Crew”

With the modesty of a violet under a pebble, 'Sam' Walker now crowds himself into the story and insists on telling what the Wags did as hardy, daring, and able aviators who set the pace for the rest of them:

 

Of course the finest crew of all was the one I belonged to. In a couple of weeks, no more, we were the envy of all the poor dubs in the other instruction squads. We had our own insignia painted on the bottom of our seaplane so that the others could look up and envy the fine lads who were lucky enough to fly this marvelous boat. The name Wags stuck to us all through the war and helped, I am sure, in a very great degree to win it. Despite many insulting remarks and very silly levity on the part of jealous members of the Unit, such as Chip McIlwaine, this peerless little nucleus forged ahead and made a great name for itself.

 

Our plane was always in better condition than all the other machines, and when we left for Huntington our reputation stayed with us. Not only did the Unit itself gaze up at the Wag crew with the most profound admiration as it soared above them in the air, but the people of the Palm Beach colony would sigh wistfully as the plane passed by. It personified their ambition, to be able to fly like that, but they could never hope to achieve it. Only a few men, five of us in fact, possessed the requisite qualities.

 

The only episode of especial interest and danger that happened to me during these weeks at Palm Beach was during my first solo flight about the middle of May. My air pump blew off as I was making a turn at the north end of the lake. Flying into my propeller, it shattered the blades to pieces. Of course the vibration was about the same as when a railroad train moving at full speed puts on its brakes and slides forward with locked wheels. My one idea was to get down before I fell down, so my first landing on my solo flight was a forced one. Being a Wag and p107therefore a superman, I managed to get down all right. On inspecting the plane I found one blade of the propeller completely gone. The other one had cut into the tail of the seaplane, ruining the motor and damaging the hull. If this had happened to some other crew, imagine the consequences! But why knock?

 

Some excerpts in Walker's words from his time in France as Naval Avaitor.

 

In France

Atlantic coast patrol Le Croisic “German Sub Patrol”

Sam Walker liked this touch of high life so well that he wangled an assignment to report to Colonel House in Paris for duty with the Inter-Allied War Conference. The wires were pulled through a cousin of Walker. It was a transient job, for a fortnight only, long enough to give an  p51 industrious aviator a chance to rest and divert himself. He was a sort of assistant private secretary who attended to getting cables off to the Secretary of State and President Wilson, but refrained from telling them what he thought about things. He enjoyed it immensely, mingling with Prime Ministers, Generals of high degree, and the dazzling assortment of gentlemen who professed the utmost harmony and suspected one another's motives. It was difficult, of course, for a member of the Wag Crew to withhold himself modestly in the background, but Walker claims no credit for influencing the conduct of the war.

 

Before Italy mention of Ambulance

 

By this time the crowd at Le Croisic was beginning to break up. The three members of the Unit, Walker, Coombe, and Bartow Read, joined the pilgrimage to Italy to risk their necks in the precarious invention of Signor Caproni. They were tired of the ocean patrol. Any change was welcome. How they made use of pull, diplomacy, and persistence to bring it about is disclosed by the ingenuous Samuel Walker:

 

Eddie McDonnell had visited Le Croisic in February and had given us a word picture of the Northern Bombing Group idea. This looked like a good bet, so Reg Coombe and I determined to  p69 try to get in on it. In May I had an opportunity to go to Paris and then to Dunkirk. We wished to transfer a Ford ambulance from our station to Dunkirk, so I asked the skipper to let me deliver it instead of sending a couple of bluejackets. I was really entitled to leave. Having driven a Ford ambulance for six months on the French front, I was a qualified chauffeur for this jaunt. Taking a chief petty officer with me, I rolled along to Tours, had lunch with several pals, and shoved through to Paris the next day. There I found the 'Loot' and others who could talk nothing but Northern Bombing Group. They raved about it until I was convinced, more than ever, and extorted a promise that the Yale bunch at Le Croisic should be kept in mind, after doing nine months of rough patrol stuff. When I went back to the station, we wrote letters to Bob Lovett, reminding him that, under no circumstances, must these brave lads be overlooked. And what did we get? Action over the enemy's lines? Beyond the Alps to Italy! Try flying over them in a Caproni!

Coombe, Walker, and Landon entrained for Italy on June 10th

Two days were spent in seeing the sights of Rome under the hospitable guidance of Lieutenant Callan. It was extremely hot weather and they felt like Roman ruins. 'We dragged ourselves through the dusty old Forum and the Coliseum with our tongues hanging out and panting,  says Walker. They were waiting for a batch of ten ensigns whom they were to command, but these incipient admirals somehow became mislaid en route and failed to show up for three days. Reginald Coombe was unlucky enough to be bowled over by a malady then strange to Rome, which turned out to be the flu. He was quite ill and had to be left behind.

 

So two of the three Uniteers took the ten ensigns in tow and proceeded to Malpensa, the Italian camp at Gallarate. Coombe was able to join them about a week later. He rather liked the camp which was the largest training school in Italy with three hundred officers under instruction. It occupied a spacious farm three quarters of an hour from Milan by electric cars. Let Reginald describe the place and what was done there with 'Signor Caproni's Flying Coffins':

 

We were quartered with the Italian officers and lived under the same rules and regulations. Everything was very clean and comfortable and after we had become accustomed to the peculiar schedule, things went along very smoothly. Flying began at 5.30 in the morning and continued until 10.30 when luncheon was served. At eleven o'clock Taps was blown and all hands turned in to sleep until four in the afternoon. Then they flew again till dark, which meant nine or ten o'clock in the long summer twilights. The idea was to dodge the intense heat of the middle of the day, but it seemed to waste a lot of time which might have been used for theoretical work.

 

The scheme of instruction for Malpensa was devised to equip a man to act as second pilot over the front lines. It was in no sense of the word a thorough finishing course such as was given in the British schools. In the Italian program a pupil would be sent up in the three types of Caproni machines, the 300, the 450, and the 600 h.p., soloing successfully in each and earning the three separate brevets, the test consisting of climbing to 2000 metres, staying there forty-five minutes, and coming down and landing at the aerodrome with dead motors.

 

This was followed by one lesson in night flying and two solo night flights, with another brevet. In this case the test was to  p220 climb 2000 metres for half an hour. A little bombing from altitudes of 1000, 1500, and 2000 metres was also given.

 

Compared with the British system this seemed like a smattering of the things an experienced pilot had to be versed in. However, the Italians figured on sending their graduate pilots to the front to act as second pilots with men who knew the game. Promotion and experience would be gained in actual war flights.

 

We went through this course of instruction and found it easy, with not much to do. The Capronis, although unstable, were not hard to fly. The chief difficulty at Malpensa was to get your flights in. The Italians were in no hurry about anything. 'Domani,' to‑morrow, was the word. They seemed to think us a bit crazy for being in such a blazing hurry to get through with it.

 

The aerodrome was about the finest I have ever seen — an enormous field •some three miles square — and all of it good for landing. Of course many machines were in the air at one time, but there was room for all of them. Night landings were guided by means of searchlights which were better than flares.

 

The Caproni experimental station was •about two miles away, an interesting place to visit. The most extraordinary plane then building for trial was a giant triplane with three 700 h.p. Fiat motors. We also saw the Liberty motor for the first time, three of them just received from the United States to be installed in a Caproni. This machine was tried out while we were at Malpensa and made fine records. Signor Caproni himself showed us over the station with great pride. We could have told him more about his machines had we met him later.

 

There were about thirty American officers at Malpensa, Army and Navy, and all living together with the Italian officers. On the Fourth of July the eagle screamed. There was a big celebration in Milan in honor of the United States. The program opened with a reception at the house of the American consul, Mr. Winship, which was attended by the Allied military and diplomatic representatives. We American officers scored a hit. You might call it an ovation. In the evening there was an impressive demonstration in the Piazza del Duomo, in front of the famous Milan cathedral. The great square was thronged with the populace waiting to greet the official American delegation which appeared on a balcony and made long-winded speeches. The cheers and the enthusiasm were really tremendous. Having survived the oratory, the crowd sang American anthems and wildly  p221 paraded behind three or four bands. The evening wound up with a performance of 'Madame Butterfly' with flag-draped boxes for the bravissimo American officers. We made an entrance in the middle of the first act and the whole house rose to greet us. After the opera came a brilliant ball. I went home. All that publicity and hero-worship had shot my well-known diffidence to pieces.

 

 

2 From the Fitness Reports, Navy Department:

 

Period 1 April to 10 June, 1918:

 

This officer (Ensign Samuel S. Walker) has served at this station since November 1, 1917, and has most efficiently performed all duties assigned to him, which include seaplane pilot — 7½ months. Chief pilot — 1 month. Repair officer — 1 month. Intelligence officer — 2 months. Executive officer — 1 month. He has shown himself to be an officer of rare good judgment, cool headed in emergencies, efficient and skilful in flight and most capable of performance of all work at hand.

 

W. M. Corry, Lt. U. S. N.,

 

N. A. S., Le Croisic, France

 

Period 15 August to 30 September, 1918:

 

This officer has performed his duties as commanding officer of the draft of officer pilots under instruction at Malpasa,º Italy, on Caproni machines in an excellent manner. His reports have been very good and have always been accurate. He has maintained discipline at all times and had the respect of the officers under him. He is an excellent pilot and flew from Milan, Italy, to Paris, France, acting as first pilot on a 600 H.P. Caproni Aeroplane. Excellent officer material for aviation.

 

S. Callan, Lt. Cdr. U. S. N. R. F.

 

N. A. S. in Italy

 

Walker in Italy…………………

 

Sam Walker's2 attitude toward aviation in Italy was more critical. The environment appears to have rubbed his sensitive nature the wrong way. His notes of a traveler hint that all was not well with the world, for he informs us:

 

Our first impressions of Gallarate were pleasant. Things were cheaper than in France and we were very enthusiastic, which kept our spirits up. It was not long however, before our attitude changed and a few days of food at the Italian camp so disgusted us in that beautiful, sunny land that we felt quite different. And we couldn't agree with the Italians as to their methods of instruction and the lack of eagerness they showed for flying. Perhaps this was because so many of them were killed in practice. In thirty days they made a record of wiping out forty men!

 

American Army pilots were coming to this same school and  p222 using the machines to which we were assigned. The commanding officer was Major LaGuardia who was a native son. He could talk the Wop lingo so fast that none of us could get onto what he was talking about. Consequently when we heard a hot argument between him and some of the Italian officers at the station, we assumed that he was trying to smooth things out both for the Army and Navy aviators who had a lot of trouble in making their mechanics understand them. This had caused some friction.

 

We found, however, that LaGuardia was all for the Army. His chief interest was in finishing the training of his pilots and meanwhile letting the Navy twiddle its thumbs. This was contradictory to the orders we had received in Rome and snarled things up for a while. Major LaGuardia was, of course, a big man in Italy, one of their own heroes in an American uniform. He had all kinds of medals pinned on him, and when he arrived at the camp the Italian colors were hoisted above the Stars and Stripes.

 

He was not the only wonderful scenery. The country around Gallarate was the most beautiful in the world. It was the lake district of Northern Italy and in flying we would pass over Lake Como and Lake Maggoriº and soar almost up to the Alps. It was something to remember all your life.

 

However, we were very glad to leave Malpensa early in July and expected to start off immediately for somewhere with our machines. Instead of this, we had to just sit and wait. It was enough to afflict even a Wag with melancholia. Enthusiasm oozed away. Lieutenant Callan had told me in Rome that the first eight pilots to complete the course at Malpensa were to take their planes to Rome and thence to Brindisi. From there they were to bomb the Austrian base of Cattaro which was directly across the Adriatic. The Italians had information that the Austrians intended to begin a naval and air offensive from Cattaro and the trick was to beat them to it. As soon as ten American pilots were ready at Malpensa I sent a telegram to Lieutenant Callan informing him of the fact and we went to Milan where we parked in comfortable quarters and waited and waited. No orders came. We went touring around to kill time, to Lake Como and so on, but got fed up with that. It was a poor imitation of getting on with the war. Lady Luck and I were not on speaking terms. I had to come down with the flu and was marooned  p223 in the Red Cross hospital in Milan. Then, of course, the orders came and 'Reg' Coombe had to go to Rome in my place and see Lieutenant Callan.

 

Meanwhile 'Hen' Landon flew south to Brindisi in a Caproni to deliver the machine to the Italian Navy at Gioja del Colle in the heel of Italy. Howard Maxwell started in another plane. He had an Italian officer who said he knew the country fluently and could easily find his way. He was to steer for the Mediterranean and then follow the coast to Rome which would seem to be a fairly easy place to hit. Not so! Nothing was heard from this outfit for two days. It caused worry. Then we learned by telephone that a strange Caproni had landed near one of the small lakes in the mountains, very close to the Austrian front. This we discovered to be Maxwell and his sagacious Italian chaperon. The latter, failing to find the Mediterranean, had sighted the lake and took it to be the vast body of salt water he was looking for. When he became aware of his slight error, it too late. He had to land. If they had kept going fifteen minutes longer, the Austrian chasse planes would have probably shot them down.

 

Well, 'Reg' Coombe came back to Milan from Rome with the news that the bombing excursion to Cattaro was all off. We were to take our machines, just as fast as the Caproni factory turned them out, and fly them to Paris and then to the field of the Northern Bombing Group at St. Inglevert. Far be it from me to speak a captious or discourteous word, but there was too much 'Domani' in the Italian promises which seemed as negligible as a snowball in hell.

 

The machines given us were a very inferior lot. We had been trained on the Capronis equipped with 600 h.p. Isotta-Fraschini motors which were first-class. When it came to delivering those we were to take to France, we drew Fiat motors which were a terrible failure and were responsible for the death of many fine men.

 

We were almost ready to start north, on the flight to France, when Harry Davison and several others turned up in Milan with Eddie McDonnell. They were to ride with us as second pilots and learn how to handle the skittish Caproni. This idea was excellent, but there was nothing but trouble with the supply of Capronis. Emerging from the hospital after two weeks of flu, I received a telegram saying that my brother had been very  p224 seriously wounded in France and urging me to make every effort to see him. The only way I could arrange any leave was fly one of the Capronis to France. So I arranged to take the next one available, although I was feeling far from rugged.

 

Leaving Milan on August 7th, I spent that night at Turin. Bad weather held me up two days but I finally managed to get away in company with two other planes. Mike Murray flew one, and Eddie McDonnell the other. Eddie had to turn back because one of his motors got afire. Mike Murray and I became separated over the Alps and I drifted quite far south. We were trying to make Lyons, but our charts were very narrow and it was hard to get your bearings when you went off the chart. We saw Mont Blanc below us and kept the course until we descended above the lower slopes. Then I hopelessly lost myself and ran out of gasoline. I was high up in the air at the time and could find no landing-place that looked like anything easier than sudden death. The ground was extremely rough where I bumped it. The Caproni tried to knock the top off a small mountain, turned a complete somersault, and flew into kindling wood. Just out of hospital though I was, my constitution was too tough to be dented. The second pilot was slightly injured. His name was Crumm. I left him in a hospital in a little town called Brioude. Abandoning the crumbs of the Caproni, I wended my way to Paris by train and obtained permission to go to Nantes and look for my wounded brother. I found him in a very bad way and it affected me deeply. He had been in France more than a year and this was our first meeting.

 

I spent a day and a half with him and then returned to Paris, expecting to go to St. Inglevert and get some real instruction. But they were short of planes and wanted more pilots to hustle to Italy to hustle back with more Capronis. So I went surging through to Rome. I went on to Milan and found the same old crowd still waiting and waiting for their Capronis. This was all the good it ever did them, for at last they went to Paris by rail. 'Hen' Landon and I pestered Coombe with letters. Had our orders gone through? If so, were they ditched somewhere? If not, why not? We had been there almost long enough to take our naturalization papers when we, too, were told to proceed to Paris, not, however, by the Caproni route.

 

It did knock the crust off our self-esteem when Captain Hanrahan informed us that he didn't even know we had been  p225 down in Italy. It made us feel that we had played a very important part in the plans of the Northern Bombing Group. Back we went to Milan. What we needed, for the sake of economy, was commuters' tickets. The next step in our education was a course in the Caproni factory and another in the Isotta-Fraschini works. It was the middle of October when we were rooted out of this and forwarded to St. Inglevert. There we were not astonished to learn that the famous Capronis had failed to perform. They had been condemned for night bombing until one of them could complete a satisfactory test in the daytime. This never happened.

 

It now filtered into our precocious intellects that the Northern Bombing Group was a splendidly big and promising undertaking which had been crippled largely by the failure to obtain good machines and enough of them. We waited — still waiting, please observe — at St. Inglevert until the Armistice which we earnestly celebrated in Calais. By way of passing the time, we rode at a Belgian cavalry school near our camp. Navy tars like us always did like to mount the quarterdeck of a horse. Most of the flying officers at St. Inglevert went home soon after peace came. The rest of us were held to fly the infernal Capronis to Issoudun, via Paris, where they were to be kissed good‑bye. They were finally burned as junk.

 

It was in foggy, rainy December that Howard Maxwell and I started off in the farewell flight of two of these surviving Capronis. I had Harry Foster with me as second pilot. The fog was thick but we concluded to push on for Paris, on the theory that if we didn't get away from St. Inglevert we could never go home. Maxwell lost his way and smashed up at Abbeville. Harry Foster and I flew close to the ground until it rained so hard we had to land in the mud of a British field outside of Paris. We broke a propeller while taxiing to a hangar, for the mud was up to your knees. Our able mechanic, Meyers, put on a new propeller, after which we watched it rain in Paris for the next two weeks. Every morning we looked out of the window for the good old sun. He had quit business. On the day before Christmas we flew to Issoudun, which was the gloomiest place in the world, all cluttered up with hundreds of Army pilots looking for orders home.

 

We delivered our dear Caproni to the Army officials, received a receipt for the treasure, and hurried back to Paris for Christmas  p226 Eve. Hope brightened the holiday. We would go to St. Inglevert and there find our sailing orders and 'Hen' Landon would soon be weeping over the sign of the National Biscuit Company in a town called New York. And what did we get? The promise that if we were good boys we might take another Caproni to Issoudun! However, fortune rolled the dice with aces up. On New Year's Day, Henderson smashed the last Caproni when his landing gear broke as he was getting off. When he came down again, the noble machine rolled over on its nose and died the death amid lusty cheers from the bystanders.

 

This seemed to slay the hoodoo. Three days later, we bade St. Inglevert a fond farewell, homeward bound. It may be said, without hanging garlands on ourselves, that 'Hen' Landon's Caproni and mine were the only two that reached Issoudun alive, of the five that were to have been delivered from St. Inglevert.

[nchistory]

If anyone has any info on his time in the Ambulance Service please share.

Have only found 1 example of the American Ambulance patch.

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The Millionaire's Unit, The Yale Aero Club.

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"The Wag Crew"

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Walkerr .......Atlantic coast patrol Le Croisic “German Sub Patrol”

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Sam Walker and Di Gates

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Walker Navy File

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Walker on AEF roster for SSU 1

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Yale.  I think Walker is middle row 2nd from left.

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Walker was mentioned as Ambulance Driver

A CLOSE ONE --- A CRAZY MAN

August 24

Francklyn and Walker had a close call to-day. They were sitting in the front of the dugout reading a paper, when a "105 " high explosive hit a tree not five yards from them. Pieces of the shell smashed into Francklyn's car and a shower of stones knocked the paper out of Walker's hand, while both men were thrown to the ground. Walker says all that he remembers was that some one seemed to snatch his paper away and knock him down at the same time, and he found himself crawling under his car, while Gyles made one long slide for the dugout entrance.

[Salvage Sailor]

Outstanding presentation and photographs of this unique AFS to USN Aviators grouping

 

[nchistory]

24 minutes ago, Salvage Sailor said:

Outstanding presentation and photographs of this unique AFS to USN Aviators grouping

 

Thank you Salvage Sailor.  Hoping to always find more information, yet happy to have found what I have currently.

[Brian Keith]

WOW! Ditto to what Salvage Sailor said! Excellent!

Thanks for sharing it.

BKW

[nchistory]

6 hours ago, Brian Keith said:

WOW! Ditto to what Salvage Sailor said! Excellent!

Thanks for sharing it.

BKW

Thanks Brian

[nchistory]

6 hours ago, Brian Keith said:

WOW! Ditto to what Salvage Sailor said! Excellent!

Thanks for sharing it.

BKW

Thanks Brian

[nchistory]

[nchistory]

Apparently 3 generations of Samuel Sloan Walkers graduated from Yale.  

Samuel Sloan Walker was a member of Scroll & Key 1917, who traveled to Palm Beach to tap the 1918 members a month early, because six of the 15 secret society members (including [Reginald G.] Coombe, Lawrence, Farwell and Read) were already in the Yale aviation corps. ("Tap Day" At Yale. New York Times, May 19, 1916; Yale Seniors Tapped. New York Times, Apr. 20, 1917.) His brother, Joseph Walker Jr., was best man, and Knight Woolley, S&B 1917, and Stanley Burke, Henry E. Coe, Samuel Meek, and Kenneth E. O'Brien, all of Scroll & Key, and Henry Hutton Landon of Wolf's Head were ushers at his wedding. (Miss Audrey Riker Weds S.S. Walker. New York Times, Apr. 7, 1920.) He joined Joseph Walker & Sons, a New York Stock Exchange firm that was founded in 1855 by his grandfather, Joseph Walker, with his brother as Francis T. Walker & Brother. Joseph Walker was an agent for the U.S. government in selling gold for the account of the Treasury Department. His sons, Joseph Walker Jr. and E. Robbins Walker, were also members of the firm. Joseph Walker Sr. died in 1918. (75th Anniversary For Walker & Sons. New York Times, Feb. 20, 1930.) Samuel Sloan Walker retired as senior partner of the firm and died in 1978. (Samuel Sloan Walker. New York Times, Jun. 10, 1978.) Marguerite E. Walker married Rae Rogers, Yale class of 1910, son of Archibald Rogers, Yale 1873. Carol Harriman, daughter of E.H. Harriman, was one of her attendants. (Miss Walker Weds. New York Times, Oct. 13, 1908.)

Samuel Sloan Walker Jr. was Skull & Bones 1948. [Thomas William] Ludlow Ashley and Howard S. Weaver, S&B 1948, and William F. Buckley Jr., S&B 1950, were ushers at his marriage to Alexandra de Bottari of Mexico City. Her sister was Mrs. Richard Colt. (Miss A. de Bottari Married in Chapel. New York Times, Jun. 27, 1948.) He was president of Walker & Co., book publishers, when he remarried to Evelyn Bready. (Evelyn E. Bready Is Married To Samuel Sloan Walker Jr. New York Times, Oct. 29, 1961.) "Other legitimate publishers that received C.I.A. subsidies according to former and current agency officials, were Franklin Books, a New York based house that specializes in translations of academic works, and Walker & Co., jointly owned by Samuel Sloan Walker Jr., a one-time vice president of the Free Europe Committee, and Samuel W. Meek, a retired executive of the J. Walter Thompson advertising agency and a man with close ties to the C.I.A." Frank G. Wisner Sr. was the first head of the covert action staff. "The C.I.A.'s propaganda operation was first headed by Tom Braden, who is now a syndicated columnist, and was run for many years by Cord Meyer Jr., a popular campus leader at Yale before he joined the C.I.A." (Worldwide Propaganda Network Built By the C.I.A. By John M. Crewdson and Joseph B. Treaster. New York Times, Dec. 26, 1977.)

Samuel Sloan Walker 3d also graduated from Yale. His mother was vice president of Walker & Company. He worked in the enforcement division of the Securities and Exchange Commission. He married Elliott Ward Sparkman, a segment producer for the "Today" Show on NBC. Her father, Dr. Thorne Sparkman, was professor of medicine at the University of Pennsylvania. (Elliott W. Sparkman, Sloan Walker. New York Times, Apr. 28, 1996.)

[Croix de Guerre]

Wonderful tunic and a great presentation!   I did a little digging and found his "Paris Card" online.  Unfortunately his is pretty beat up but the photo and information is still legible.