Letters To Home

From all appearances, it looks suspiciously like the war is over and peace is here.  There’s a rumor going around to that effect, at any rate.  I’m still wondering when VJ-Day was – or is!  The last two days have been holidays, that’s all I know for sure.  There are few new newspapers and practically no radios – nobody knew nothing!  I’ve never heard of such a thing – the way we have been fumbling round trying to learn what’s going on.  You’d think we were a thousand miles from civilization.  Anyway, hooray for our side!!

Compiegne is as calm and peaceful as ever.  More French people than usual have been strolling around the streets and parks – and that’s the extent of the celebrating here – except that there are more drunks than usual!  All the excitement is in Paris – it’s probably almost as bad as Belfast on VE-Day.

How do you like these French names?  Compiegne is pronounced, roughly – Calm’-pea-ehn’.  The “n” has that French nasal sound – it’s almost silent.  I am living in what was once called the Castel du Rond Royal.  Before the war it was a small second-rate hotel.  The building is located just off the Rond Royal, which is the intersection of the Avenue Royale, the Avenue de Marigny, and the Avenue de la Madeleine.  Now do you know where I am!?

Just in case you think I am living in luxury, I should explain that this is not a hotel now – merely a lot of rooms filled with GI’s.  The Germans were here during the occupation, and between the two of us, the place has been pretty well kicked apart.

I would liked to have gone out and celebrated the victory, but (believe it or not) I have no decent clothing.  My woolen shirts and trousers are well worn-out.  I’m disgusted with the Army for not making it easier to get such things replaced.  I’ve been trying to “salvage” the stuff ever since my last month in Ireland.  With no success!  But I’ll keep trying – perhaps I’ll be here long enough to get some results.

[letterstohome copyright 2008]

It’s been a long time since I wrote home.  I hope everyone is okay and that everything at home is hunky-dory.  We three boys have been putting in so much time setting up our office and getting settled down here in France.  I wrote one letter to Mom and Dad, one to Cleon, and one to Jayne upon my arrival here.

It’s been a great week for news.  First the atomic bomb, the power and potentialities of which stagger the imagination.  I only hope that science and the human race as a whole haven’t bitten off more than they can chew with that stuff.

And then the declaration of war by Russia against the Japs.  That gave the boys in the Pacific a shot in the arm!

The last 48-hours has produced the best news of a historic week: the Japs are ready to throw in the towel.  According to the papers and the radio, the war – the whole war – is as good as over!  Peace may come within a day or two.  It’s almost too much to believe.

I am thinking how wonderful it would be to have the war over before Cleon reaches the battle area.  Nothing is more important to me than to have him get out of this safe and sound — as I have been lucky enough to do.  He may be kept in the Navy a good while longer; however, the peace declaration would put him a long step nearer home.

I assume Mom and Dad know better than to expect me home this year.  Peace may be here but it does not immediately affect the set-up I’m in.  We’re going to occupy part of Germany and I’m in on it.  For how long is the question that no one will or can answer right now!

I was so very pleased to hear all the good news from Cleon last Sunday.  Could any of it have been more satisfactory?  Only a year and a month in the Navy and he becomes a second class petty officer (equal to staff sergeant in the Army!) – I’m as proud as if I’d done the thing myself.  He has been competing with some smart, well-educated men and has stayed with them all the way, surpassing many of them.  That kid is strictly alright!  I must hand it to him for the way he went into the Navy and made good.

Well, what do you want to know about France?  It’s the same as England and Ireland, only it’s French and it doesn’t rain as much and as often.  Actually, it’s as dusty around here as a Palouse Country back road in harvest time.  Give me that good old Irish rain.

Have you ever heard of the “Forest of Compiegne”?  This is the site of a large stand of lovely shade trees, the city and 9th B.A.D.A. right in the middle of it.  The 1st World War’s armistice and the French capitulation to Hitler in #2 World War were both signed in that famous railway car in Compiegne forest.  A year ago the Germans were living and working.  Today the German POWs serve our food, sweep our floors, etc., under guard, naturally.

We get plenty of French bread in the mess hall.  I like it, but it is mostly curst and porous inside (holes).  The cook takes a big slab of it and cuts it on the bias.  We nibble, chew, and bite around on it like mad!

[letterstohome copyright 2008]