Nomad News-Vol.5-No.106

Paris:  I can't write flowery prose about Paris.  Matter of fact, I'm not even a writer.  I just scribble things down as they come into my wandering mind.  All I can say is, there is something about Paris that, I believe, you won't find any place else on earth.  at least, it was that way.     It was a feeling of freedom as you strolled along the Seine and watched artists or wood-be artists, or sat under the Eiffel Tower and looked up through the towering maze of steel structure, or my favorite, sitting under the awning of an sidewalk cafe and drinking beer.  The only thing that beats drinking beer in Paris, is drinking beer on a Canadian lake while watching the sun set.
I failed on my first attempt to visit Paris. It was 1943 and we were stationed about 40 kilometers south of Paris. It was a weekend and for some reason we were not flying any missions. I decided to visit Paris so I borrowed a bicycle and headed off. After a few kilometers I approached a demolished bridge and an arrow pointed left, reading "Paris 40 kilometers. Five or so kilometers and another demolished bridge with sign "Paris 40 kilometers". This went on a couple more times as I approached a small village. This was not a former combat area so I concluded that the Germans had demolished every bridge as they retreated. It was around noon time now and I thought a cool beer was in order. There was a gendarme on the corner so I approached him and with gestures and a few words, he got the message that I was thirsty. A woman came along and with a few words, the gendarme said I should follow her. I was expecting the destination would be a cafe. Instead of that, it was her home. She invited me in and I met the LeRoux family; her husband, Maud 17, and Pierre 8. The Mrs. gave me a glass of water and proceeded to show me around their property. There were rabbit pens and Pierre went over and touched each one with a few words. I thought they were his pets. After the tour they invited me to dinner the following day around noon. The next day I visited the Mess Sergeant and he loaded me down with oranges, sugar and some other items. When I arrived at the LeRoux home, they were overjoyed with my gifts, which were scarce or unavailable. When Mrs. LeRoux served dinner, it consisted of potatoes, some vegetable and small pieces of meat I did not recognize. It then came to me: rabbit. I believed I was eating Pierre's pet. I felt a little squeazy but then realized they were not pets at all. It was their main source of meat. I made two or three more visits to the LeRoux family before departing the area.      My first visit to Paris was,  following the cessation of hostilities in Braunsweig, Germany, I flew to Paris in a B-17 bomber for a week's furlough.  I had wanted to go to Ireland and visit some of my relatives that I had never seen but I thought a bird in the hand was better than a bird in the bush.  To pass the time, I crawled around the craft, trying to visualize the activity that ensued during a bombing run.  I crawled back to Tailend Charlie's rear gun position and was glad I never ended up in a bomber squadron.  If so, at 130 pounds and five foot six, this is where I would have ended up.  I understand the tail gunners had to remove their parachutes in order to get into firing position.  It was an enjoyable week.  I came out from under the awning occasionally  to roam the city   and visit some historical sites.
     One of my buddies in the 33rd Photo Reconnaissance Squadron was Floyd McRae from Atlanta, Georgia.  After the war Floyd visited us on a number of occasions in Tennessee.   We visited him and his home turned out to be a virtual Civil War Museum.  Floyd suffered a tragedy in his family, followed later by divorce.  Floyd remarried and the second wife, who I never met, thought Atlanta was "culturally illiterate".  To her, the only two places to be were New York and Paris. Back to Paris. In addition to my war time visit, Yvette and I spent three days in Paris that included their Independence Day celebration, July 14. A lot of people had large cardboard periscopes that they could look over the heads in front of them. Yvette inquired as to where they were purchased. It was a small store about a block away and we were able to obtain the last two they had. They were really neat. Without them, we would have seen very little of the parade. It was reported that there were over 3000 Americans in Paris that day. (Copyright 2014 - Andrew M. Dolan)