And a medic went out there to try to take care of him. And they shot the medic. Ambrose steps out of the Windsor Court Grill Room into sweltering Big Easy sunshine, snuffs out his Marlboro with his fingers, sticks the butt in the inside pocket of his blazer for later, and sinks into a taxi. He's a little nervous right now. There is a last-minute crush to fashion into a war museum an 1856 brewery on Magazine Street, here in this city that Ambrose, a retired history professsor at the University of New Orleans, has called home for decades.
Large pieces await installment.
There's an Avenger torpedo plane still sitting in California. An American half-track in Texas. Thankfully, two Nazi staff cars meant for the display are only next door. It's ready to set type. No, I'm not accustomed to that at all.