Monday, May 16, 2016

May 16, 2016 Somewhere in France (Charles de Gaulle Airport, Paris)




Hq XIX Corps Arty
APO 270

      Somewhere in Holland
15 Sept. 1944
My dearest darling Sminx,

Your letter of Sept 5 arrived last night just as I was writing to you along with another letter you wrote me on May 28!  They were both wonderful letters and especially the one of Sept 5.  I was much touched by your discussion of the baby now on the way and how you felt about it.  It is a great blow to me not to be with you now and later when the big event happens.  It seems that I always forsake you when you are pregnant and when you need me more than at any other time.  I can assure you it is not intentional and I would give anything to be with you now.  Nothing would please me more than to be able to look after you, take care of you and cater to your whims such as a desire for celery at odd times.  I am certainly glad and I will be thankful all my life that I was present when Billy came and you were sweet to say that the memory of my presence then would be with you for the next one.  You can be absolutely certain that I will be with you in spirit and I shall be on edge until I get the good news.
                                 *                                                 *                                              *

As you can see from the heading on this letter we are now somewhere in Holland.  We are getting out of the area where my knowledge of French will do me any good.  But soon I hope to be able to practice my German.  I don't think the people here will be as friendly  to us as were the Belgians and the French but maybe they will.  I have seen a great many interesting things which I would like to write you about but I am afraid they will have to wait until I get home.

That was good news about Muggins [Dad's brother, Martin] promotion to Lt. Col.  I shall write and congratulate him.  He certainly need not have worried about my getting it before him.  But I am contented now and I am not worrying too much about promotion.  That will come when and if it is deserved.  I am sure Muggins did a good job and deserved his.

Yesterday I found time to play two rubbers of bridge.  I won the large sum of 7 francs which is the equivalent of fifteen cents.  But it was fun to play although it would have been a lot more fun if I could play with you.

Don't worry about my health.  I am perfectly well.  The only casualty I have suffered is the loss of one tooth which I already reported to you.  When the campaign is over perhaps I will be able to get it fixed.  I don't know whether I have gained or lost weight because I have not had an opportunity  to weigh myself.  I may have gained, though, because I eat too much and don't get enough exercise.  The weather has warmed up a lot and we are much more comfortable now.

                                   *                                                   *                                             *
I miss you horribly sweetheart and I long for the day when we shall be together again.

                                                                                     Your adoring husband,
                                                                                                         Bill
_________________________________________________________________________________Dad expressed himself beautifully in the first paragraph, apparently in response to Mom's "special" and "touching" September 5 letter to him which he received that day, 10 days after she wrote it, and two months and two days before Griff was born on November 17.  Dad was not there for the birth, and Mom, as she promised, must have been thinking of Dad's presence at Billy's birth.

And Dad's second paragraph leaves so much unsaid, so much to be told when he returned.  If only he were here now, we would certainly want to hear it all.  And what did Mom's Sept 5 letter say to elicit Dad's beautiful response?  Hopefully, we will be able to answer that question when we find that letter upon our return home.

Dad would get to use his German very soon for, by mid-October, 1944, the XIXth Corps had already entered Germany.  I think they may have entered Germany before the end of September but cannot confirm that without more of his letters and those also are at home.  Dad told us that he used his German to interrogate mayors, as before, and sometimes to "ask" residents of a house to vacate the house because the General or Colonel wanted to  use the house for headquarters or sleeping quarters.

And my third favorite part of the letter (and one of my favorites of all we have seen) is Dad's reaction to Muggins' promotion and his Buddha-like feeling about his own position and chances for promotion:

                 "I am contented now and I am not worrying too much about promotion.  
                  That will come when and if it is deserved.  I am sure Muggins did a good 
                   job and deserved his."

I can't leave Dad's letters at a better place.  

We love you, Mom and Dad, and miss you.  Thank you for leaving us this precious gift.

To be continued another time...

Love, Nat

________________________________________________________________________________




Sunday, May 15, 2016

May 15, 2016 Somewhere in Belgium (Bastogne)





Hq XIX Corps Arty
APO 270

6 September 1944
My darling adorable Sminx,

Last night I had a wonderful surprise.  A sack of mail arrived here containing three letters from you.  I had not heard from you in ten days and you don't know how happy it made me to get these letters.
  
                                   *                                           *                                                *

I was sorry to hear that you have had a little trouble with Billy.  But I imagine it is a stage which all kids go through.  From this distance it is a little difficult to say what you should do to discipline him.  I would say, however, that as  a general rule it would be best to ignore him and to save the spankings for the more important breaches of discipline.  I wish I were there to help you.

                                   *                                           *                                                 *

You will be pleased to hear that the attack by the lice was only temporary.  I have not been troubled by them lately although some the bites still show on my arms.  I hope they continue to stay away.

Yesterday afternoon I was especially homesick for you.  I went to see Rita Hayworth in "Cover Girl" which you and I saw together at Camp Campbell.  The circumstances were very different here.  The power kept going off because of trouble with the generator and the color seemed to have failed somewhat.  Do you remember the night when we drove to Campbell from Hopkinsville to see it and how much we enjoyed it?  We certainly had a lot of fun together.

We have run across a number of aviators who were shot down by the Germans and who have been living for different periods of time under the noses of the Germans.  The local population gave them civilian clothes, forged papers and kept them well hidden.  One of them told me that he was just sitting down to supper in a French home when a German general walked in demanding food.  So the American gave up his place at dinner and ran upstairs.  He said the General was not at all polite about asking for supper but he demanded it as  a right.  It is evident that the French and Belgians did a lot for our airmen and it took a lot of courage to do it because it meant instant execution if they were caught hiding an Allied aviator.  Of course there were some traitors and collaborators but the majority of the people hate the Germans thoroughly  and especially the Gestapo and the SS.

You asked me if I could tell you the commanding general of XIX Corps. I can tell you who it is because it has been published in the papers.  His name is Maj. Gen. James Corlett.

I must close now darling.  I love, worship, and adore you.

                                                                                                              Your devoted husband,
                                                                                                                                    Bill

_________________________________________________________________________________

Letter, General Corlett, Napoleon and “Nuts”

We see common themes in Dad’s 6 September letter (note how he has adopted the European way of dating the letters right from the beginning, probably from his previous time abroad in 1935, I think) such as how happy mail from Mom makes him; his homesickness, this time brought on by Rita Hayworth, and a shared memory of seeing the movie together earlier; his growing respect and admiration for the French who have been risking their lives to aid Allied soldiers and airmen; and his faithfulness to the rules of censorship.  What are new topics for Dad are dispensing advice for the disciplining of a 1 1/2 year old which is probably given weeks after the event - he thereafter kept his general rule that it is “best to ignore him and to save the spankings for the more important breaches of discipline”  whereas Mom wasn’t quite so patient to follow that rule; reporting on his own health, other than “I am well;” and his inadvertent disclosure that he hasn’t exactly been hanging out with General Corlett.  His real name is Charles H. Corlett and his nick name is “Cowboy Pete.”    Don’t you wonder if it was he, Cowboy Pete, who drafted the article in Le Tomahawk with all that talk about “hardest-hittin’, fasted-movin’, straightest-shootin’, best damned soldiers in the whole history of warfare?”  Finally, showing Rita Hayworth movies doesn't exactly fit in the picture of a Corps at full gallop - I understand they outran their supply line.

Corlett, age 55 at this time, had seen service in the Pacific before being assigned to lead the XIXth Corps in Europe. Wikipedia has a good bio of him, and for this purpose, it is noteworthy that he was relieved from his command on October 15, 1944 due to illness.  During the period from the time the XIXth landed in Normandy on June 10, 1944 to October 15, the Corps had fought well in the hedgerow country, and followed it up with the pounding of the Germans in the Falaise Pocket and then giving hot pursuit to the fleeing German army, being the first to enter Belgium, and shortly thereafter entering Holland and Germany.  They captured 29,867 prisoners, shot down 55 enemy planes, built 160 bridges and crossed five major rivers.  The month after being relieved, he was in Honolulu assigned to take charge of the XXXVI Corps and plan the invasion of Japan.

Having spent the night in Waterloo, we could not leave without visiting the Champ de Bataille where Wellington dealt a fatal blow to Napoleon’s chances of continuing on as Head of State.  We had some difficulty finding the visitor center, in part maybe because there is no sign and it is in fact underground.  But when we did find it, it was worth the slight difficulty.  For 16 euros, we each were treated with a wonderful museum where you could spend two hours going through each exhibit with your audio guide, or you could skip many of them and listen to the presentations especially marked by a soldier’s silhouette on the wall next to the exhibit.  So we were able to run through the French revolution, the Directorate, the guillotines, Napoleon’s coup d’etat, the Napoleonic Code and other improvements to civil society, his ascendancy to Emperor, and various military victories and eventually defeats flowing from his disastrous invasion of Russia, to his escape from Elba, his Hundred Days, all ended by the battle outside of Waterloo.  We then entered a theatre, again in the round (or semi-circle in this case) as in Arromanche, and what a spectacular movie of the battle.  And you are right in the middle of the cavalry charges, the infantry advances, the yelling, the cannon shots, the gunfire, the maiming of horses and blowing apart of bodies, the ebb and flow of the various outfits, and then, late in the day, the eventual arrival of Blucher’s forces which saved the day for Wellington.



Exhausted from participating in the Battle, we then went outside to climb the Butte de Lion, the large hill with a  statue of a lion on top constructed as a monument to a wounded relative of the King of Holland, I believe.  In a howling wind, spitting rain, a temp of about 45 degrees, it was not a climb for the meek.  Both Sugar and I made it to the top, 225 steps from the ground level (Sugar counted every one of them), and in the lee of the base for the lion statue, you could get a great view of the battlefield below, mainly consisting of farmer’s fields and intersected by roads then and now.  Much of it has remained as it was in 1815, except that area in which the Lion Monument is situated since the ground which was used to construct the mound came from that part of the battlefield.  Ever since 1828, I believe it has been illegal to change the grounds of the battlefield.  The mound is near where Wellington’s forces were arranged in preparation for the battle, while his official headquarters was in the Town of Waterloo, about 4 kilometers away.  





Finally, we descended the mound, and went to see the panorama painting showing scenes from the battle in a circular room, the paintings taking up the full 360 degrees, as at Gettysburg.

Rather than heading back into France, I had decided to head for Bastogne, Belgium in honor of my pilot friend, Carleton Willey, who had been captured just outside Bastogne in the Battle of the Bulge, December, 1944.  It was only about 1 1/2 hours away and when we arrived about 3:30 at our Hotel Melba, we were told that the Bastogne War Museum, which is located 23 miles away in Luxembourg, was closing at 4 pm, and would not be open on Monday.  “Nothing here is open on Monday,” the desk clerk informed us. I asked if there was another museum actually in Bastogne with the same subject matter, the Battle of the Bulge, and he said there was.  Checking his computer, he advised that it was closed on Monday, as well.  After being told it closed at 5 and was right around the corner, we headed out the door without even bringing our suitcases in and ran over to the museum dedicated to the 101st Airborne.  The museum was packed with four stories of memorabilia,  life-size displays of soldiers in their habitat in Bastogne, cooking by a fire, having a drink in a bar, having shrapnel removed by a surgeon  while a burn victim was waiting to be seen and a priest was giving another soldier last rites, etc., displays of all the weaponry carried by the soldiers of both armies and of their uniforms, displays of their food supplies, medical supplies, cigarettes, candy and gum, and a special display case about General George C. Patton.  The piece de resistance was going into the bomb shelter in the basement and undergoing an actual bombing from Junker bombers on Christmas Eve, 1944.  You find yourself sitting in the darkness, listening to a baby screaming, a tank going by outside, dogs barking, orders shouted, anti-aircraft guns being brought up the street to park next to your house and firing constantly, in rounds of three, at the invisible planes, the steady drone of the bombers high overhead, the whistle of the bombs as they exited the bomb bay doors and headed for you, the light of the explosion and shaking of the entire basement caused by the bomb blast in the house next door, and the shaking and explosions of the scores of other bombs trying to turn Bastogne into a ghost town.  All this while, the noise is unbearable and you jump when a bomb hits nearby.  And it is of course unbearably cold, with a foot of snow covering the ground, and not many sources of heat.  Being outnumbered and surrounded by an overwhelming enemy force, when asked for his surrender, General McAuliffe replied in just one word: “Nuts.”  General Patton couldn’t have said it better himself.

It is surprisingly very exciting to be here in Bastogne.  There is an old tank parked in the main square.  The placemat in Maxim's, the restaurant where we ate tonight, had old pictures taken at the time of Bastogne's encirclement by the Germans.  I saw a picture at the museum of a street in Bastogne with a cow walking down the middle of the street, and distinctive buildings on the left side of the street.  I showed the picture to the people in Maxim's, they took the picture to an old man eating there, and they came back and told me the picture was taken right around the corner.  Here are the two pictures (maybe I can get a better one of the 2016 picture tomorrow):




Maybe tomorrow we will head back into France.  We better - our reservation for our hotel in Paris starts Tuesday.

Bonne nuit.  Love, Nat

Saturday, May 14, 2016

May 14, 2016 Somewhere in Belgium


                                                    LE TOMAHAWK
                        FIRST IN BELGIUM
                                           WESTERN FRONT, Belgium, September 4, 1944

In one of the longest opposed advances in the history of warfare, American troops of a certain Corps which shall for the moment be nameless, early Saturday morning slashed into BELGIUM.

Armored units of a crack American division were the first across the line and were followed by cavalry and infantry and all the other highly mobile elements of a balanced field corps.

Shortly after the entry of this first United States Corps, advance elements of another fighting American corps were pouring across the line, and today a great expanse of BELGIUM is in Allied hands.
                                              *                                   *                                    *

Everywhere, the armies are on the move.  Hitler, says a German broadcast, had "ordered his troops back into Germany proper."  Hitler did not mention that the Allies are encouraging this "withdrawal" with a bayonet in the seat of the Wehrmacht's pants.

                                              *                                   *                                    *

Welcome Liberators

Belgian citizens were out in their Sunday best yesterday to welcome the liberators.  The enthusiasm of their reception surpassed even that of the French people through whom we have passed.

Everywhere were to be seen Belgian flags together with improvised French, American and British flags.  The people were in a holiday mood.

In Belgium as in France, armed members of the liberation movement  cooperated with Allied armies. Working right with the British and Americans, they helped clean up numerous German pockets so that our advancing forces would not be delayed.

Allied air forces had a field day again yesterday and poured tons of bombs and rockets on retreating German columns.  The toll of destruction to enemy forces must have been as high as any day since the Great Retreat began.

Thousands of prisoners were taken yesterday by one Corps alone, while other thousands of Germans were left dead on the roads.

Entry into Belgium

There is nothing in warfare quite as stimulating as a good, fast pursuit of a demoralized enemy.  When the pursued include Hitler's SS thugs, his swaggering Wehrmacht units and the robot-bomb babykillers of the Calais area, trying to make their way back to the fatherland, it is a downright pleasure.

Even in a changing situation such as this, censorship considerations prevent a minute description of units and their employment , but even the enemy knows that during the past few days some of the world's best infantry and armored troops, attached to a certain fighting Corps, have made history of a high order.

One day they were on the SEINE, the next astride the SOMME, and the next in BELGIUM!  Let military observers, who point to former German swoops  through the lowlands and into France as top military efficiency, chew on that.

It must be considered that in this long gallop, these force have demolished tons of German equipment, fought innumerable small battles, run over German columns who proved a nuisance on the highway, killed thousands of the enemy and taken other thousands prisoners.

That these American troops were the first to enter Belgium is a matter of no great moment, militarily, but is a source of considerable satisfaction to some of the boys who have been "often a bridesmaid but never a bride" and who have slugged it out face-to-face with the German Army of the West, harried him in his long retreat and given and taken heavy losses, only to see juicier objectives fall like ripe plums to other outfits.

It is, in a sense, poetic justice.

It will be remembered that certain Johnny-Come-Latelies, who never faced the bitter, grueling, close-in-warfare of the hedgerow country, had become somewhat boastful of their prowess in cross-country marches.  They stated, in a friendly way, of course, that we were sloggers incapable of such high dramatic moments as a long dash through broken enemy lines.

We have now proved that first-class troops can do three things equally well: (1) Stand toe-to-toe and destroy the Germans when they stay in there and fight; (2) outflank and outmove them when they begin a delaying-action retreat; (3) just plain slaughter them when they are on the run.

We point out those things for the benefit of those who - in a rapidly moving situation highlighted by certain military histrionics - may overlook the fact that right here in Belgium may be found some of the hardest-hittin', fastest-movin', straightest-shootin', best damned soldiers in the whole history of warfare.

No Job Too Tough

Since this edition is in the nature of a tribute to some grand soldiers, we must not fail to point out the great job that has been done by the artillery, the engineers, the ordnance, the quartermasters, the signals, and all their other agencies who have had to do their job at a dead gallop in order to make the great advance possible.

                                       *                                        *                                          *

_________________________________________________________________________________


Hq XIX Corps Arty
APO 270

                                                                                                                      5 September
                                                                                                             Somewhere in Belgium
My darling Sminx,

Since writing to you this morning, I have discovered that we are allowed to say that we are "Somewhere in Belgium."  I thought you would be interested to know it so I am writing again.  I am enclosing also a copy of our little corps newspaper [Le Tomahawk - above] which you might also be interested in.  Anything that is printed there has passed the censorship and is OK to send.

The Belgians have been just as enthusiastic as the French and possibly a little more so in receiving us.  They told me that they had not flown the Belgian flag or worn the Belgian colors since the Germans came and of course it was a big day for them.  Every house had the Belgian flag displayed and all the girls wore the Belgian colors.  Many wore dresses of those colors.

Last night most of the men and officers went to a dance and they apparently had a good time.  I did not attend but those who went told me that they enjoyed it chiefly because the music and dancing were so different from what they were accustomed to.   Some of them were upset because all the Belgian girls were accompanied by their mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters.  And the more attractive ones had Belgian boy friends as well.  It seems that it is customary for the Belgian girls to be well chaperoned.  As for me I am not interested in dances until I get home and can dance with you.

The news seems to be getting brighter and brighter every day and I am hopeful that Germany may call it quits sooner than I originally expected.  It can not be too soon for me as there is a constant ache in me for you and I long to return to you. 
                                                                                                               Your very own,
                                                                                                                             Bill



Of course, the "certain Corps which for the moment shall be nameless" was the XIXth Army Corps, and "Le Tomahawk" is its newspaper enclosed in Dad's letter of September 5.  The tomahawk is the emblem on the badge sewn on the arm of the uniform of each member of the Corps.

Sugar and I have followed this route from Rosny-sur-Seine to Bousval, Belgium and we are now staying in a hotel nearby.  For us the drive was about 250 miles; for them it might have been a little shorter;  they covered the distance in less than a week with two major river crossings and presumably some German rearguard skirmishes and attempts to slow them down.  And if you add in the topography of the ground they were traversing, wide valleys and large hillsides resembling waves building in an ocean, large periods between the waves but with tall crests and deep troughs.  The XIXth rode through them like an ocean sailing racing yacht and, like sailors on such a vessel in such a sea, had an exhilarating reaction  to the ride. This march seems like an amazing accomplishment to me, and also to the author of the articles in Le Tomahawk.  Well done!

Again I feel we are so fortunate to have had Dad and Mom save their letters.  Where would this post  be without Dad's enclosure of Le Tomahawk?  You can physically feel the elation of the author.  It is also plain from this edition that the men in the Armed Forces are competitive, not only with their opponent, but with each other.  I suspect that this pride in their outfit is ingrained through their training, an aspect of training you could see with Easy Company in "Band of Brothers."  It's also gratifying to see all the struggles that XIXth Corps and Dad have been through, and the reward that their effort brought them.  We know now, as they did not,  that they have many long, difficult days ahead, that Germany is not "going to call it quits" for another eight months of slaughter, destruction, famine, and desolation.  But we will let Dad enjoy his moment of hope, and Mom, too.  We salute you, Mom and Dad - you deserve it.

Tomorrow Sugar and I stop our journey following Dad's route but will continue this blog for two more letters as XIXth Army Corps continues on toward the German border, while we start back toward Paris and a little R & R for us.

                                                                                                           Three hours later

We walked into town and had dinner at a place where we could eat fondue, and listen to Bob Dylan singing "Mr. Tambourine Man."  Imagine that.



Here are a few observations about life in France:
1. The stop sign in France used to say "Arrete" but now says "STOP."  And I suppose that in a few years, the "Ceder la passage" sign at a rotary will say "YIELD."
2.  Their new method of speed control in small towns is to insert speed bumps.
3.  There are more rotaries than stop lights by far.
4.  They don't provide wash cloths, and never have, at least in my experience since 1966.
5.  The heated towels are now prevalent - why don't we have them?  They are wonderful.
6.  The rental car has an interior GPS, not something you place on the dashboard.
7.  The country roads are NARROW.
8.  RAPESEED - this plant grows throughout Normandy, and being very bright yellow, brings in sunshine, even on a rainy, gray day.


9.  French bread and butter are still the best.
10.  There are many more creperies than there used to be.
11.  The Normans are very friendly.
12.  There is plenty of livestock in Normandy, mostly cows.
13.  Have I told you about Rapeseed?  Beautiful, just beautiful.
14.  The money bills and coins are of different sizes, and the bills are of different colors.
15.  They will tell you on the sign when they are filming you to see if you are speeding.  If caught speeding, the fines are steep.  In Guernsey,  the lady we met was caught going 38 in a 25, and had to pay a 500 euro fine, and lost her license for 30 days.
16.  Never, ever get caught with 100 euro bills.  They are worthless, at least at the places I shop.  The merchants and restaurants won't accept them; the banks won' t change them; the hotels won't change them and they tell you to go to the Post Office and they'll change them.  NOT.  The postal clerk looks at you as if you are crazy.  Finally, since I wasn't going to be able to get my car out of the Parking without small change, I went to an ATM and got 85 euros.  And then today, I was on the A1 toll route, when I pulled up to the toll booth to pay my 13.65 euro toll, I asked if he'd take a 100 and he said, "Sure."  Alleluia.  Just too bad that I have to drive 150 miles on a highway, risking my life going 80 mph (130 k/hr), to get change for a 100 euro bill.

Quiz:  where are we tonight?  Here's a clue:

Here's a hint:





Love, Nat

Friday, May 13, 2016

May 13, 2016 Somewhere in France





                                                                Hq XIX Corps Artillery
                                                                       APO 270
                                                                                                                    1 August 1944
My darling Sminx,

Yesterday was the happiest day for me since I reached France.  Do you know the reason why?  It was because I received  large bunch of letters from you.  You don't know how much weight was taken off my mind to know after almost two mnths that you and Billy are both well and that everything is OK with our expected arrival, Elizabeth.  I didn't have any reason to believe that anything would be wrong but it is somewhat demoralizing to be completely cut off from news of you and I was becoming very anxious.  It was therefore a great relief to get your letters and my morale is much higher now.... You are the sweetest and most wonderful wife in the world and I am living only for the day when I come home to you and we can live our life together again.  This present separation is just an unavoidable and very unpleasant interlude and I hope  that it will soon be over....

I was delighted to hear that you are living in our house at Hancock Point and that you like it.  What wouldn't I give to be living in it with you.  It was fortunate that you were able to get such a good person to cook for you. It must be awfully hard to find people now-a-days.  Right now I would like to be sitting on that beautiful sun porch looking at the view across Frenchman's Bay with you beside me.  Do you remember the last time we sat there?  The whole place must be far more beautiful now with the leaves out and the flowers.
                                                                                                     Two days later

Darling this letter was interrupted and this is the first chance I have had to get back to it.  Things have been fairly busy around here and I am of the impression that it will continue this way for some time so you probably will not be getting quite as many letters from me.  Don't worry about me, I am with a very good group of men and officers and we'll come out all right.  I am enjoying what I am doing a good deal more now and in reply to your question about cleanliness I can say that I am not too filthy.
                                         *                                              *                                          *
                                                                                                     Two hours later

Speaking of baths I just had a chance to take another one.  Things were quiet, the sun was out (then but not now) and there was some hot water available so I took a complete sponge bath.  An amazing incident occurred.  Just as I was standing in the nude soaping myself, two French women walked by about  50 feet away.  I did not notice them until they had passed on but I understand from someone who was there that they were quite intrigued.  They should not have been around but these French civilians do not seem to be much disturbed by the war and they return to their  houses just as fast as they can.  In some instances, they never leave their houses at all even though the fighting is going on in the fields just outside.
                                          *                                              *                                        *

Dearest, i am going to close this letter to you now so that there won't be any more interruptions and it will be sure to get off to you.

With all my love to you and Billy, 
                                                                                                from your devoted husband,
                                                                                                                                  Bill
________________________________________________________________________________

                                                                                                         21 August 1944

My darling Sminx,

On this table beside me as I write this letter, there is vase containing 5 large roses, four white and one red.  They were a gift from the French and it is characteristic of the welcome we are receiving.  They are very friendly to "les Americans" and are constantly giving us flowers, wine and they even offer us food.  They seem to be very grateful to have us here.  It is nice to get such a good welcome from the people.

I finally found a way to spend a little money.  I came across an officers sales store for clothing the other day so I bought myself a pair of parachute boots and a  new woolen shirt to replace one that had worn out.  That is about the only money I have spent over here except for laundry and haircuts.

Darling, your snapshots are a constant source of delight to me, especially the ones of you.  I look at them several times a day and I think of you all the time.  You are the sweetest, most wonderful wife that I could imagine and I adore you.  Please take good care of yourself.

How is Billy's vocabulary  getting on?
                                                                                                      Your devoted husband
                                                                                                                             Bill

_________________________________________________________________________________

                                                                                                              26 August 1944

My darling Sminx,

Wasn't the news about the liberation of Paris exciting?  We heard it on the radio yesterday and we were thrilled by it.  I heard it broadcast in French and translated it for everyone else's benefit.  I have found that my knowledge of French has been a tremendous asset over here.  I have had many interesting conversations with the natives and have found it useful in asking directions on the road.  The French continue to be very friendly and offer us eggs, [illegible] and champagne.  When we go through a town, everyone stands on the sidewalks and waves at us.  The other evening I saw an interesting sight.  On passing through a town we saw all the people standing in front of the Town Hall.  We  asked what was going on and they told us that they were shaving all the hair off the heads of the women of the town who had given their favors to the Germans.  Just then we saw one of the women come out with her hair clipped short and all the people in the streets jeered as she walked by.

Dearest, I miss you and Billy more and more every day and I wish that I could be with you now especially so that I could look after you and take care of you.         
                                                                                                                 All my love,
                                                                                                                              Bill
________________________________________________________________________________


Falaise, Rosny-sur-Seine

This month of August, 1944 is a critical month in the campaign of the XIXth Army Corps.  In early August, it was at the southern end of the Cherbourg Peninsula, and by the end of the month it was ready to cross into Belgium.  So it is understandable that he would have his letter interrupted by business.  The XIXth Army Corps swung south and became a part of the southern side of the "Falaise pocket", a pocket of Germans around the town of Falaise to the north and Argentan, about 15 miles to the south of Falaise.  There were about 150,000 soldiers in this pocket which was being encircled by the Allied forces, leaving the eastern route as the only escape route.  On August 16, Hitler finally gave the order to retreat and the retreat gradually turned into a rout as the artillery pounded the German positions and the Allied air forces blew up or shot up anything that moved.  The German escape route was called the "corridor of death" as they ran the gauntlet between the Americans in the south, the Canadians and Poles in the north, and the British to the west.  The race was on to see if the escape hatch could be closed.  Along the way, again from "Normandy 44", "[s]moking carcasses clogged up the roads, maddened horses ran hither and thither and hundreds of bodies lined the lanes and fields, surrounded by the clutter of abandoned weapons and equipment."  By August 21, the encirclement was complete.    However, by this time, about 100,000 troops had escaped leaving behind 50,000 prisoners, 6,000 dead, 400 tanks, 1,000 field guns, and 2,000 motorised vehicles.  Eisenhower visited the battlefield, observing, "This is one of the greatest scenes of carnage of the war.  One could go literally hundreds of yards walking over nothing but dead and putrefying flesh, in a deathly silence, in the middle of the luxuriant countryside where all life had brutally ceased, leaving only destruction and death."

Interestingly, both Ike and Dad observed the incongruity between the beautiful scenic setting and the carnage that war brought to the scene.  Re-reading Dad's letter of August 21, there is no mention of the carnage, only stories of roses, the gratitude of the French, and buying new clothing.  It is possible that his XIXth Corps Artillery, especially its headquarters, were far enough south that he did not witness the results of the incessant artillery barrages and the turkey shoot conducted from the air.

The XIXth Army Corps was in hot pursuit and by the 26th of August, was stationed on the banks of the Seine, at Rosny-sur-Seine, where Sugar and I are tonight.  This is the view from the window of our hotel on the Left Bank of the Seine.



We have also been on the move, turning a 3 hour trip into a 5 hour trip by retracing our steps from St. Malo back to Caen, and then south to Falaise and Argentan and beyond, and then turning easterly and generally following the route of the Corps during the second half of August.  The Corps, attempting to find a way to cross the Seine, moved a few miles south to Buchelay on the 27th and started crossing the Seine shortly thereafter, and headquartered in Mezy north of the Seine on the 30th.  It rushed north, toward Belgium, but that is a story for tomorrow.  And that is where we are headed tomorrow.

Dad's letters remind us again of the importance of word from home when you are in the service far from your loved ones.  Sugar brought up a good point this morning.  Mom was all Dad had.  His father had died when he was 5, his mother died when he was 19, his brother, Martin ("Muggins") was fighting in the Pacific Theater and they weren't ever particularly close, and I'm not sure why.  Dad also confirmed the advantage his knowledge of French gave him, an advantage he would compound later by his knowledge of German when they entered Germany.  We see that he is finally satisfied by his job assignment and that it is keeping him busy.  And we feel his excitement at the fall of Paris and his pride in being able to interpret the broadcast for his fellow soldiers, meaning one more step toward his going home to his beloved.  The cutting of the woman's hair is a cruel reminder of the price some will have to pay, whether or not the sharing of their favors was a means of survival.  I recall Renee who lived in Paris at the time and she wouldn't even go out of her apartment on the day Paris was liberated because of the risk that someone might grab her and accuse her of something she didn't do.  "It just wasn't safe for a proper young woman to go out of her apartment."

So we will be off tomorrow in hot pursuit of Dad, as he and his XIXth Army Corps were in hot pursuit of the fleeing Germans.  

Love, Nat

PS  And just how is Billy's vocabulary coming along?  Maybe he would like to tell us? 




Thursday, May 12, 2016

May 12, 2016 Somewhere in France (St. Malo)





                                                                 Hq XIX Corps Artillery
                                                                           APO 270

                                                                                                                        18 July 1944
My darling Sminx,

For lack of new letters from you I have been reading and re-reading the last two letters of yours.  I know them almost by heart now.  They are almost two months old now but they are a great comfort just the same.  Dearest, I love you, I adore you and you are everything in the world to me.  Your ears should be burning almost all the time because I think of you so much.  You are the finest wife a man could have and I am terribly proud of you....Let us hope that this miserable war will be over soon nd that we can be together again for good.  In spirit I am with you now and I always will be.

                              *                                          *                                             *

My existence here continues about the same.  It is somewhat interesting at times and I am learning a little but it is not all that could be desired.

                              *                                          *                                              *

We are getting pretty decent food now but have had no bread for a couple of weeks.  What I miss the most however is fresh milk.  I imagine that we will never get that.  My mouth waters when I think of all those bottles of milk we used to get at Fayetteville.  Remember how we would have a glass of milk every night before going to bed.  Every day I think of those wonderful months we had together in our little house in Fayetteville.  We were so fortunate to have them and we can look forward to similar ones in the future when this fracas is over.  It will be heaven, darling.

Give my best to Papa and Mama Griffin, Kay and Sal [my mother's parents and her two sisters] and remember always that I adore you.
                                                                                    Your loving and devoted husband,
                                                                                                                           Bill

PS  Excuse this poor quality paper.  It is all I have.  B.

______________________________________________________________________________

                                                                                                                20 July 1944
My darling Sminx,

I am writing this sitting in the sun beside my foxhole.  It is one of those rare moments over here where the sun actually does shine but I do not expect it to last very long.  It is nice and warm now and reminds me of those beautiful days we had up in Maine last summer.  I imagine that you and Billy both have good tans by now.  At least I hope and try to visualize what you are doing but I am not too successful because I have had no letters and do not even know whether you are in our house at Hancock Point or not.  I am addressing the letters care of Papa Griffin because I know you will get them that way.

To get back to my foxhole.  It is about five feet long so I have to sleep all doubled up.  But if I made it any longer this canvas would not cover me and I would be rained upon.  My sleeping bag is getting an airing in the sun beside me.  This country is very beautiful, full of orchards, tall hedges and hedgerows and trees.  There is also quite a bit of livestock.  The natives must get plenty of butter, cream and so forth.  One thing that is amazing is that the people stay in their houses no matter what is going on around them and appear to lead their normal lives in spite of bullets, shells and bombs.  I suppose they have no place else to go.

                                                                                             I love and adore you, 
                                                                                                                Bill


_______________________________________________________________________________

                                                                                                                27 July, 1944
My darling Sminx,

It has been a beautiful day today.  There was bright sunshine, white fluffy clouds and a blue sky.  It looked almost like home.  As I was sitting on the ground looking across a green field with an orchard in it and bounded by high green hedgerows and with other fields, and orchards on the hills in the distance, I was struck with the beauty it all.  The beauties of nature seem incongruous right in the middle of a war.  There is a farm not far from where I am where there are all kinds of animals, including cows, chickens, geese, ducks, rabbits and sheep.  The little girls go out in the fields every evening to gather grass for the rabbits.  You love animals so you will be intrigued with the place I am and I neglected to say that they also have some dogs.  Incidentally, how is Mischief [their Skye Terrier dog]?  Are he and Billy still getting along well together?

Guess what!  We received a liquor ration the other day.  They gave me a bottle of some kind of French brandy which I had never heard of before.  The Lord only knows what I will do with it because I have not even touched the bottle of whiskey which I brought with me from the States.

I have been a little [illegible] lately in a negative sort of a way. It has cut into my sleep and I think I was premature in saying that I was getting enough.  I am in hopes now of getting a job that will keep me really busy.  If it pans out, it will be a boon because the time will pass a little faster that way.

                                                                                                   All my love,
                                                                                                           Bill


These three letters are intriguing in several respects.  The first letter is the first from his new assignment at HG XIX Corps Artillery, and his address is prominently displayed on the letter signaling Mom that he had finally been assigned to a  position; his love for Mom expressed movingly again; his dissatisfaction with his status; and most particularly his expression of his strong craving for fresh milk.  As I read this and re-read it, I thought that if Sugar or anyone in my family had received this letter, they would have instantly known that I had been captured and was trying to tell Sugar that and tell her that I was okay in a discreet way.  Not so with Dad.  He really did  like milk, and we drank it with every meal.  The second letter uses his foxhole to contrast with his lack of news from home and perhaps his description of the foxhole will allow Mom to visualize how he was living as he was trying to visualize how she was living; his description again of the daily life of the "natives" and the incredible understatement ending his letter - "I suppose they have no other place to go."  Yes, were it not for the war, we suppose the natives would be traveling all about the countryside.  And the third letter shows his appreciation for the beauty of his surroundings at a time when, by now, he must have seen horrific scenes of death and destruction, 1 1/2 months after the invasion with attacks and counterattacks, and heavy bombings of the cities of St. Lo and Caen; his mention of animals which he knows would be interesting to Mom who had had dogs all her life, and had trained horses and been a show jumper; his abstinence from liquor which would have been easy for him; and his anticipation of a harder (better) job which would make the time pass faster.  To me, what is striking and would have been striking to Mom is the almost casual mention of Mischief, the family dog given as a wedding present - it was the first mention of Mischief in months, I believe.  For Mom, that would have been her first question; her second would have been about Billy.

As circumstances approach for Dad that will make him much busier, we are taking it easy in St. Malo, a walled city in Bretagne.  This morning, as suggested in our tour book, we mounted the ramparts of the city, some of the fortifications dating back to the 1100s, and walked around them counterclockwise.  Just after Porte St. Thomas gate, we climbed up the ramparts and overlooked Fort National sitting on a small island near the city, perhaps 600 feet from the its outer walls.  I knew that the tide was high, lapping up against the pilings driven into the sand beach in front of the walls.  These pilings were placed there in order to protect the walls by breaking up the strong waves from storms rolling in from the Atlantic.  Attached are two pictures, one taken this morning at high tide, and the other taken at 5:20 when the tide was low and when I took the opportunity to walk out to Fort National.




After our circumnavigation of the ramparts on a gloomy foggy day, a trip of only about a mile, we returned to the room where we emailed some pictures and replied to those of you who had written, and used WhatsApp to chat with those who have signed up to WhatsApp, and to check in with our dog, Maggie. Yes, I take after my mother in that regard but our children are more able to take care of themselves than Maggie is when she is attending boot camp at Bay's Camp Lejeune.

Refreshed, we headed out again on a mission to locate the house where Marie-Laure, a blind, young French girl lived according to the Pulitzer Prize-winning book "All The Light You Cannot See."  Her address was 4 Rue Vauborel, and looking at our map given out at the Front Desk, there it was, Rue Vauborel, running perpendicular from Rue St. Philippe which was next to the wall encircling the city.  It was only about 10 minutes away or less, and we found Rue Vauborel and the building numbered "4" and I took several pictures of it, one or more hopefully attached here.




Being here helps us to visualize Marie-Laure's surroundings during the time she spent here, and not far away might be the gate she used to access the beach, a gate which is locked and closed now.  I wish I had written down the measurements she gave for the bakery she visited, etc., but it would have been of little to no use.  Shortly after August 6, 1944, the bombers came to St. Malo and destroyed over 650 buildings leaving only 180 buildings still standing in the city.  The buildings have been replaced now and are in a style similar to the style of those which had been destroyed  The bombings finally brought the German Colonel to surrender with his 600 diehard troops.

En route around the ramparts we came upon the statue of Jacques Cartier, "Founder of Canada," and later found his burial site in the Cathedral in the center of the city.  In his honor, we return to WWII and to the attack by the Canadians at Juno Beach on D-Day.  It was a  particularly hard undertaking, one deemed "impossible" by the German Navy due to coastal reefs off the beach.  General Keller's powerful 3rd Canadian Infantry proved the Germans wrong, but at very heavy cost.  These Canadians were all volunteers as the Government, after the popular dissatisfaction with the draft in WWI, had renounced sending its troops to fight outside Canada without their consent.  As is written in Jean Quellien's "Normandy 44", "the Canadians fought with savage determination.... Their losses might have been appalling, but nothing was going to stop them."  Securing the beachhead and moving inland, they left behind a thousand of their countrymen dead on the beach.  For those who were French Canadians, it was particularly appropriate that they should return from the land their forebears had left three hundred years earlier to free the descendants of those who had stayed behind in France.  Marcel Ouimet, of Radio Canada, a WWII radio announcer, proclaimed, "[W]e can safely say that our soldiers have won the hearts of the liberated populations, and it is fine and fitting that soldiers from home can contribute to giving the Normans, the first Frenchmen to be liberated in France itself, the opportunity, the chance, of recovering their fatherland and their national self-esteem."  Amen.  Bien fait.

We had a nice supper sitting next to a couple from the island of Guernsey.  They had a great sense of humor and had a hard time as they spoke not a word of French.  They heard me try to order in French and so did not ask me to assist them with their ordering.  And they felt that they knew Maine quite well because of watching Jessica Fletcher.

Bonne nuit.  Love, Nat

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

May 11, 2016 Somewhere in France (St. Malo, Bretagne)




Somewhere in France

                                                                                                             10 July 1944
My darling Sminx,

Yesterday I sent eighty dollars to you through a personal transfer account via the U.S. Finance office.  I have no need of the money over here and I would like you to have it.  It will take about three weeks for it to get to you so you may receive this letter before you get the money.  I hope you get it all right and I also hope that you received the fifty dollars money order which I sent to you sometime ago.  Perhaps you will be able to save some of it or all of it and either put it in the savings account or buy war bonds with it.

                            *                                           *                                            *
Today we were issued our weekly PX rations which is free.  We received a carton of cigarettes, 12 packages of life savers, four sticks of gum, 2 razor blades, soap and tooth paste.  That is the most I have received so far.

The weather has not improved.  It is cold and raw and has been raining all day.  It is like New England in a nor'easter only colder.

I have been talking to some of the local people here about conditions during the German occupation.  The men worked for the Germans building fortifications and gun positions and were paid 50 francs a day.  This was very little compared to the prices of articles.  A pound of butter cost 80 francs here and in Paris it cost 500 francs.  A pair of men's shoes with wooden soles cost 500 francs also.  The Germans took everything of value such as wine, cognac, jewelry, etc. without paying for them.  They drafted young Frenchmen, both men and women, and sent them to Germany to work.  However, they apparently did not commit the atrocities they committed in Poland.  The French refer to them as the Boche.  I am enclosing a 2 franc note of the invasion money which you might be interested in.  It looks more like a cigar coupon than money.  We are also using the old French money which you remember from your trip over here.  Each franc is worth approximately two cents.

Dearest, I love you more and miss you more each day.  I hope and pray  that it will be over soon and we can be together again.

                                                                                        Your loving husband,
                                                                                                        Bill

We are now learning how Dad handled his pay, and the supplies he received on a weekly basis, quite a contrast to how the French lived under the Occupation.  And he obviously was aware of that contrast.  It impresses me that it was he who appeared to be initiating these conversations about their life under the Boche.   Following up on these letters, I asked Ginette, our hostess at Au Bon Gite, where we've spent the last two nights, where she came from and whether her family suffered during the war.  She told me that she had been born in Caen and was the child of a second marriage for her father.  Since Caen was completely destroyed in the fighting, her father eventually  took his family to Arromanche to live, a safe haven where there would be no more fighting and where there would be housing and food from the surrounding agricultural area .  She does not recall this period as she was too young.  I also asked her the meaning of "Boche" and she knew that it was a derogatory term for the Germans but did not know the source of the term.  I just looked it up on Wikipedia and it apparently came to mean "German blockhead" or imbecile.

Ginette was serving us a breakfast of a boiled egg, croissons, local cheeses, French bread, juice and coffee, and Philippe, her husband, joined us after returning from walking their dog, Aura.  I shared the copy of Dad's love letter in French with them and told them I believed that he had written it in this village.  Ginette said it was too bad that we would not be there on June 6, the anniversary of D-Day, when there are lots of activities and the village is packed with veterans and their families.  Ginette and Philippe are gracious hosts, inviting us into their home, giving us a homemade jar of strawberry jam because that is the jam that we ate the most of at breakfast, and then, after learning we were headed to the Arromanche 360 degree  Theater, she wrote out a form that would get us a "slight deduction", with her thumb and index finger held very close together.  We exchanged hugs and kisses (Sugar) and we were off to the theater in the village right above the coastal town of Arromanche.

                                                             Arromanche

Rick Steves writes in his guide to France about  "the powerful film, Normandy's 100 Days.  The screens surrounding you show archival footage and photographs of the endeavor to liberate Normandy.... The experience is as loud and slickly produced as anything at the D-Day beaches.  It's more emotional and immersive than educational, and for that reason some prefer to see it at the end of their D-Day experience to sum up all they've seen."  So that is what we sought to do, and it was a moving and powerful experience.  The movie packs 5 years of European history into 15 or 20 minutes, starting with Hitler's invasion into France, showing clips of his harangues, and photos of him in Paris in front of the Eiffel Tower.  Then we hear parts of speeches from Churchill and Roosevelt dedicating their efforts to the liberation of Europe and stemming the Nazi tide.  We move quickly to the preparations for D-Day, and then films and photos of the actual invasion, starting with the night parachute jumps of hundreds of men behind the German lines, followed by the shelling from the ships offshore and the bombing from some of the 6,000 planes taking part in D-Day, and then the actual amphibious assault  and the encouraging speech given by General Eisenhower before they embarked on the armada to cross the English Channel.  The Allies won that day and spent the next 99 days fighting to evict the Germans from Normandy and completely destroying St. Lo and Caen in the process.  The movie ends with the French and their Allies marching down the Champs-Elysees before the reviewing eyes of Charles de Gaulle.  The surround sound and screens all around are challenging and put you right in the middle of it all, and most of us leave the theater wiping the tears from our cheeks.

We then set sail for Mont-Saint-Michel and arrived about 1 pm, just in time for lunch inside the walls of the famous island fortress, perhaps one of the most recognized sites in France, second perhaps to only the Eiffel Tower.  We were unable to drive to the island, but had to park on the mainland, ride a shuttle bus to about 100 yards short of the island and then walk from there.  The shuttle buses were interesting, each having two driving stations, one at each end.  So when the bus arrived at its point of disembarkation, the driver just got out of the front of that bus, walked to the rear and took the driver's seat so that now became the front of the bus and headed back to its shuttle station after picking up a load of people.  They did this as there is no room for the buses to turn around.  We enjoyed our tour with the audio packs. It is almost dizzying to be dealing with a  world of 72 years ago (D-Day) to go back to a world of more than 1300 years ago when the Archangel Michael came to the local bishop in a vision and the bishop interpreted the vision such that, in 706 AD(!) he built a seminary on the top of this hill on the small island in honor of St. Michael, the archangel gatekeeper of the gates of heaven.  The abbey is still used for services and there are monks who still live and study there.  The island is also fully stocked with trinkets, postcards, and other memorabilia, as well as restaurants, clothing stores, hotels, and whatever else you would see at a tourist destination.



Sugar and I are now in the Hotel Louvre in St. Malo, and once again we are thrust into the world of mid-1944 from All the Light We Cannot See, a Pulitzer prize winning book about a blind young French girl and a smart and talented young German boy tossed together by this world war.  St. Malo is a walled city so we are also back in medieval times, when knights were leaving their castles to go out and fight for their respective liege lords.  This constant crossing of epochs is foreign to us,  but thrilling.

Dad's letter above is one of the last he wrote as an "excess officer" for soon thereafter he was assigned to Headquarters of the XIXth Army Corps Artillery, a part of the First U.S. Army.  We see that although the Corps did not go in on D-Day, two of its officers went in on June 7, and the Corps became operational at noon on June 14 under the command of Major General George Corlett, and he immediately ordered his two divisions of infantry (the 29th and the 30th) to attack.  After the third day of heavy fighting, the attack was halted as their  positions were along the Vire River, a natural defensive position.  On July 7th, the Corps attacked again and the 30th Inf Div established a bridgehead west of the Vire River, and were then joined by the 3d Armored Division. By  July 16, these two divisions had wiped out the German salient in their sector.  In the meantime, the 35th Inf Div had been attached to the Corps, and on July 11, it and the 29th Inf Div attacked the German lines with the important communications center of St. Lo as their objective.  The battle raged for a week in hedgerow country with heavy casualties on both sides, and St. Lo, after having been completely destroyed by artillery and bombing raids, fell to the XIXth Corps on July 18.  This is the situation when Dad would join their ranks as plans were being made for a full scale attack to break out of the Cherbourg Peninsula.  We'll leave it there for now.

Bon soir from St. Malo.

Love, Nat