29 August, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

France

29 August, 1944     1000

Dearest sweetheart –

It’s raining like fury outside right now – but I’m nice and dry, seated in a large arm chair facing a large window with thrown-open shutters. One thing about the Colonel – he likes to look for comfortable spots for his C.P. Sometimes there are such comfortable places around – but for reasons of safety, etc. – we don’t use them. We’ve been here for two days now and it sure is a grand place. The owner is an old man, dapper and cosmopolitan. He speaks English fairly well. That is true of many many Frenchmen in this part of France, by the way; the lady of the house is ill and spends most of her time in bed. Also living here are a son and daughter-in-law with their 3 children – ages 3, 8, 12. There are 3 cooks and I don’t know how many caretakers. It’s a large estate and only a wealthy man could own it. These people are wealthy. The son is president of a tremendous factory darling with automotive parts – etc. I say tremendous – dear, because I saw the factory yesterday. About 8 of the officers are living in the house and it’s quite comfortable. It is beautifully and richly furnished and I think you’d love it, darling.

Yesterday – I was invited to ‘dejuener’ today. Dejeuner is lunch or dinner here – although for the poorer class, dejuener is breakfast. The master of the house asked me to see his wife yesterday. She has hypertension and they’re having a doctor in today to see her. I’m to meet the doctor and then we’ll all have lunch together. You must think darling that it’s some war I’m fighting. It certainly is – but everything is a paradox and the contrast between where you are and how you live one day or part of one day – and how you lie crouched in a foxhole – the next – is understood only when you study the military situation. It certainly is fluid. At any rate – when you have a chance to be comfortable for even a day or two – we snatch at it. But what makes me wonder – is the fact that it all seems so natural to be under a roof. I’m glad though because I’m sure it will be the most natural thing in the world going back to a normal life. The grounds here – are beautiful. There are large flower gardens – and at one end of the estate is a swell tennis court. There are no tennis balls available, however.

“The ‘first’ time I saw Paris” – sweetheart, I was honestly thrilled. Somehow the thought of all that great city had gone through in the past and the fact that here I was riding through its streets – was something hard to describe. Certainly I was more thrilled than when I first entered London – but then, the comparison is not fair, because the situations were different. There weren’t many soldiers in the part of the city that I was in. My driver, the dentist and I took a ride to see if we could get into the city – past the MP’s etc. To our surprise – there was nobody around to stop us. We just drove in – like conquering heroes – and we were mobbed. Every time the jeep stopped – throngs gathered. If we stopped to try to take a snapshot – Frenchmen took pictures of us. We passed one of the many sidewalk cafés which we see so often in the movies. I thought it would be fun to dash out of the jeep – sit at one of the tables – while our driver took a picture of us. Well – sweetheart – as soon as we sat down – a crowd at another table called the waiter and ordered a bottle of white wine. I didn’t have any opportunity to say ‘no’. The driver – from the curbstone was trying to take our picture – but the crowd was now so big – he had to stand up in the jeep and look down at us. When the man who ordered the wine saw that we were going to have our pictures taken – he and his crowd (there were 3 or 4 couples) – got up and sat at our table. Everybody was laughing, yelling, singing, – the waiter poured wine – and I hope my driver got the shot – because it ought to be a good one. By this time – without exaggeration – there must have been 250-300 people around us – and I was getting worried – because if an MP happened to come by – we would have had a lot of explaining to do. But none came. We pushed thru the crowd – shaking hands, getting patted on the shoulders; waved at, sung at and finally drove off to a chorus of cheers. If I ever was impressed by a people’s emotionalism, sincerity and warmth, it was there, darling – and I mean it when I say I was thrilled. We didn’t see much of Paris – a couple of department stores from the outside, – Place de la Bastille, Place de la Republique – and throngs and throngs of people – happy people, walking the streets. We saw no evidence of damage – and heard and saw no snipers. We scooted out of the city and headed back here. I’ll never forget yesterday morning.

Pictures taken 28 August, 1944

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE

"Paris - August 1944 - Place de la Bastille
Man in foreground took our picture in Jeep."


"Paris - August 1944 - Place de la Republique"
(Greg, identified by his armband, is by the rear leg of the Lion.)


"Sidewalk cafe - Paris - August 1944
All these people had been at other tables and surrounded us
when we sat down just to have our picture taken by our driver.
Woman's arm around me - put there at last moment
and removed immediately - so help me!"


"Paris - August 1944
The Seine from one of the bridges with
Cathedral Notre Dame in the distance."

Well – I’ve rambled on – darling – but I thought you’d like to hear about my experience. I’d like to come back to Paris – and with you. It looks like the sort of place people like to live. Perhaps one day we may be able to make it, sweetheart. I sure would love to have you with me to see some of the things I’m seeing. I would enjoy it so much more. I go no place – but what I imagine you with me – enjoying things together – but we will some day, dear, whether it’s here – or in our own place in Salem. It won’t make much difference – as long as I’m married to you and we are companions. I’ll have to stop now, darling, and when I finish this – I think I’ll spend a little time dreaming. Love to the folks – and

My everlasting love and affection

Greg.

Route of the Question Mark


CLICK ON MAP TO ENLARGE

(A) Perthes to (B) Gretz (23 miles)
27 to 29 August 1944

August 29... Gretz. Here we visited the Rothschild Chateau, found it as large as a hotel, and looked for Jerry soldiers in the neighboring woods. We had a showing of THE SONG OF BERNARDETTE in the theater in town, and the entire civilian population tried to get in.

* TIDBIT *

about The American Parade in Paris

On 29 August 1944, the day after Greg visited Paris, a second parade was held - this one for the Americans. Here is a video of what led up to the Liberation of Paris, produced as a newsreel in 1944. At the beginning and end, the second parade is shown:

28 August, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

France

28 (I think) August, 1944

My dearest one –

When I write I think it’s the 28th – I mean it. There’s no one around just now and I’m darned if I know for sure. The past couple of days have been terrifically busy – only with moving around and getting settled. Yesterday – for the 1st time in a long while I didn’t get a chance to write you or my folks. You’ll excuse me, darling, I know. I just wish I could tell you the places we’ve passed thru and seen – ‘passed thru’ is the right term, too, dear; our progress is so rapid that we don’t stay in a spot long enough to look around. It’s really wonderful, though, to realize that we’re doing so well.

Naturally – our mail has been confused – and I hope that you’re getting mine, darling, with some semblance of regularity. Today I got two of yours – the 1st for several days – dated 10 and 14th Aug; also one from Dad A, one from a friend in Italy and finally one from a fellow in N.Y. Yours – I liked best of all – simple a statement as that is. I enjoyed so – reading them – I felt immediately relaxed.

I was sorry to read about the “skunk” incident and I hope that by now the mystery is solved and the scoundrel done away with. Dad B has my sympathy; there’s no fun in seeing a good lawn torn to bits.

Before I forget it – I want to scold you in writing for your writing something you shouldn’t have. Darling – what you don’t seem to understand is that my folks love you for what you are and not because I brought you to them. I don’t like to go into details – but my folks haven’t always acted that way to girls I’ve brought home – for one reason or another – and remember, dear, they loved me in the past, too. No – it wouldn’t take you long to know whether they loved you because of me – or because you were the girl they always hoped I’d marry. You are that girl, sweetheart and they knew it in a very short time. They were very enthusiastic from the beginning, and their enthusiasm soon became love. I know you can feel it and have – already. Do not misinterpret it, dear. Now consider yourself scolded.

As to your being too idealistic – I don’t think so. I think you are very practical too, darling, and I like the combination very well. I know we can hit it off, too, because I believe that despite the paradox – I can combine idealism and realism to the best advantage. At any rate, dear, that’s the gamble you’ll have to take – and you’ve already told me – you’re willing to take it – for which I love you very much and am very happy.

I enjoyed reading that you were down to Winthrop for the weekend of the 11th or 12th. It really must have been hot. That damned house can really get like an oven and I know what you mean when you say it’s impossible to sleep. Again I don’t seem to recall who Rhea White is, dear. Will you enlighten me? And I do love to read that you feel so at home with my family. I thank God that I met you in time, darling. What I mean is – that with you knowing them so well and my getting to know your folks well in a very short time after the war (actually I feel as if I know them very well right now) – we just won’t have to wait any time at all to get married. It will be just the most natural thing in the world (and wonderful – I should add). God dammit – I do get impatient at times, too, sweetheart – but we’ll just have to stick it through.

Well – I’ll stop now, dear, and write again tomorrow – I hope. Take care of yourself, darling, and be well. I love you deeply, strongly and in every way I know how; you must realize it, dear. My love to the folks.

All my love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about One Day in a Cub

CLICK ON PICTURE TO ENLARGE

Written in late 1944 by (above, left to right):
Lts Adrian (Ade) Kibler, Don Spear, Jim Lowe & Bill Wade
Pictured in Kornelimunster, Germany, in October, 1944

Extracted from "Three Days in a Cub" on the Third Armored Division web site comes this story:

Thanks to the family of Adrian E. Kibler, Sr. for the article and the photo.

The following describes the activity on 28 August 1944 of 4 soldiers of the 991st Field Artillery Battalion (Air Section, First Army, VII Corps) while attached to the 3rd Armored Division during the advance east of Paris, France. The excerpted article also describes the 2nd and 3rd of September, 1944; they are omitted here.

On the morning of August 28, 1944, the 991st Field Artillery Battalion was in desperate need of maps; and, since there was no ground contact with the column, which was supplying maps, it was necessary to send a plane.

At 1205 Lt. Lowe and Lt. Wade left by plane in search of Division Artillery Headquarters, with no information as to their location other than that they were somewhere north of Meaux. This trip between columns necessitated traveling an undetermined distance over territory not yet entered by our forces. This trip was successfully accomplished and the maps delivered to the 991st Battalion Command Post at 1540. At this time Battalion was cut off from the column it belonged in, the forward elements having gone on, and the rear being stopped several miles short of the Battalion The other Battalion plane with Lt. Spear and Lt. Kibler had been flying steadily for several hours, acting as radio relay and making reconnaissance. They had also located and adjusted fire on a column of 20 German tanks which was dangerously near the Battalion. They were able to disperse the tanks and cause them to withdraw. The supply train belonging to the tank column was also fired on with good effect.

From that time on, both planes were in the air constantly acting as radio relay, which was the only communication the Battalion had, and giving information on enemy units interfering with, or close to the route of advance. During this time they rendered invaluable aid in clearing the rear elements of the Battalion from the town of Nuilly-St Front while enemy vehicles entered it from the other side. At one time they flew at an altitude of approximately 50 feet over three German vehicles entering the town and fired on them with .45 pistols to discourage them from proceeding farther into the town before the two bazooka teams, acting as rear guard, could be picked up.

Lt.'s Lowe and Wade reported a horse-drawn field piece in position to fire across the route of advance and caused it to withdraw before the leading elements came into range, thus avoiding possible loss from ambush. They also adjusted fire on, and silenced, (with suspected destruction of both guns), two enemy guns that were shelling the Battalion. They then transferred the fire on an enemy column in the same vicinity causing it to turn back and abandon seven vehicles.

Both planes stayed with the Battalion giving radio relay and reporting all enemy activity in the vicinity until they were able to report the location of the friendly column on the left flank. During this period there was a large amount of enemy movement sighted and reported.

During this entire period, all air personnel were aware of the fact that due to the small size of the column, they were flying over enemy territory at all times and that there were no allied aircraft in the vicinity to give protection against enemy aircraft. The enemy air force was then active in that area as shown by a warning call from Division during the afternoon, reporting twelve enemy fighter craft near, and the loss of a Cub airplane in the same locality the next day when it was attacked by twenty-two enemy planes. They were also aware of the situation that was developing as darkness came on. The column planned to continue the march after dark. The planes would have to land, and there were no units stopped near which the planes could land for protection of the equipment and personnel.

It was late dusk when the Battalion finally got close enough to get ground radio contact with their column and close enough that they could get support, if necessary, from the column on the left. This was in the vicinity of Braisne [near Soissons]. At that time the air personnel were faced with either attempting to land in the half light on a strange field near the Battalion, which would almost surely result in a crash and abandoning the planes, or returning to a field with which they were familiar and which had friendly troops near.

The nearest field of this nature was at La Ferte s/s [Jouarre] on the Marne River, almost one hour flying time away. A radio discussion disclosed the fact that both planes had enough gas to complete the trip, so it was decided that the better plan was to return to La Ferte s/s.

Since it was too dark to fly contact, the entire trip was navigated by compass with occasional checks on outstanding objects that were discernible. Just a small corridor through this territory was in friendly hands. The trip was completed and successful landings made at 2130, which was 45 minutes past last flying light on clear evenings at that time.

27 August, 1944

No letter today. Just this:

PICTURES AND POSTCARDS ENCLOSED IN A LETTER TO WILMA

CLICK ON PICTURES TO ENLARGE

Château de Mémorant
"Battalion Command Post - South of Paris
August 1944"


Postcard of Château de Mémorant in Perthes,
back signed by the then-owner, Huguette Marcou


Front of the above signed postcard shows the layout behind the chateau


Aerial view of Chateau Memorant today
shows the same layout


Postcard of the Farm Drawbridge built in the 1300's


Route of the Question Mark


[CLICK TO ENLARGE]

(A) Les Fretis to (B) Perthes (85 miles)
25 to 27 August 1944

August 27... Perthes. We set ourselves up in the grounds of a chateau, a handsome cream and white affair. Paris had just been liberated and some of the drivers managed to get there. We spent a horrible night while the Nazi bombers tried to hit the bridge over the Seine at Melun.

[Note: From the chateau to the bridge at Melun is approximately 6 miles]

* TIDBIT *

about the Château de Mémorant

The construction of the original chateau, in the early twelfth century, was to form a parallelogram whose angles were protected by towers. The lord of Château de Mémorant was Jean de Mémorant, a nephew of Pierre de Sens. The next inhabitant was Thomas de Pisan, counselor, physician and astrologer to King Charles V. A rare female figure in French literature in the Middle Ages, Christine de Pisan, Thomas's daughter, arrived in France in 1368 at the age of 26. When she was widowed with three children, she moved into Château de Mémorant to live with her father from 1390 to 1392. It was during this period of mourning for her husband that she wrote most of her poems, including one of her most famous ballads, expressing loneliness and torment.

On November 14, 1392, Philippe de Maizières, Knight of Cyprus and counselor of Charles V, bought Château de Mémorant from Christine de Pisan. On May 9, 1393, he donated it to the Celestine Monks of Paris. On August 15, 1539, Perthes and the Château de Mémorant were destroyed by the soldiers of Charles le Mauvais, the head of Navarre. The two main mills were also razed.

The chateau was rebuilt in 1857. The only parts of the ancient castle that remain today are some sections of walls and turrets, including the farm drawbridge shown in the postcard, above.

26 August, 1944

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

France

26 August, 1944        1000

Good Morning, darling –

No mail the past couple of days – but they have been a bit hectic; nothing serious – but on the go. My driver, jeep and I are still with the battery, dear, but we’ll return tonight to battalion. After trekking all over the place yesterday – we lighted in a beautiful spot by a small lake. The battery has been pulled out for a short rest and cleaning up period and they couldn’t have picked a better spot. I’m going to take advantage of the fact that they’re all together and give some inoculations this p.m. After that they can go swimming – if they can. That’s not so cruel, darling. I’ll have an inoculation myself – because it’s time for it.

CLICK ON PICTURES TO ENLARGE

Picture of Greg
"France - August 1944
Old estate with small lake. Just after a swim."


"France - August 1944 - Lake where I went swimming"

Slept under the stars again, last night and it’s really better than in a hole or under a tent – for letting you project yourself across the spaces. It seems as if I can look all the way home and not feel so far away, dear. The distance is so damned discouraging at times ––. If our love is so strong at such a distance, darling, just think what it will be like when we’re near one another! It will be terrific, dear, and that’s an understatement – because I do love you so much now. So long for a while. Love to the folks and

All my love ––

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about "The Lost Lion of Paris"

This story has been excerpted from an article written by Matthew Cobb and published in The Independent, UK on 12 August 2009.

It is 3pm on Saturday 26 August 1944. Paris is liberated. Under a blazing sun, General Charles de Gaulle, in full dress uniform, is standing at the Arc de Triomphe. He is at the head of a massive parade to celebrate the end – the previous day – of Nazi rule in the French capital. He also wants to show who is the new master in the country. To the left of de Gaulle is Georges Bidault, head of the Conseil National de la Résistance; to the right, de Gaulle's personal delegate, Alexandre Parodi. Behind them can be seen the leading figures of the Free French army and the Resistance. Out of sight, behind the camera, are four tanks of General Leclerc's 2nd Armoured Division, which the day before had entered Paris and helped seal victory. Beyond them, a million joyous Parisians line the sides of the Champs Elysees. This is a moment, and an image, that will go down in history.

CLICK ON PICTURES TO ENLARGE

But there is another figure in this iconic photograph, taken 67 years ago today (and shown above). On the right there is the only black person in the photo – indeed, one of the few black people on the demonstration. He is wearing a mixture of civilian clothes and military puttees. His right arm is in a sling. In every respect he is different from the smartly-dressed white men who dominate the demonstration. His name was Georges Dukson, he was only 22, and he was not supposed to be there.

Caught up in the enthusiasm of the moment, convinced that he had as much right to be there as anyone else, Dukson had simply invited himself on to the head of the parade. His presence was completely unscripted, a piece of spontaneous bravura, and it was soon snuffed out by protocol. Newsreel rushes show Dukson being unceremoniously kicked off the march, at gunpoint, shortly after the photo was taken. The Resistance members who lined the demonstration – and who, the day before, had been fighting the Germans in the streets – were not the disciplined troops de Gaulle wanted to see. At first, de Gaulle was furious. "What a shambles! Who's in charge here?" he barked. But when the Free French leader saw the enthusiasm of the hundreds of thousands of Parisians, he soon realized that something quite extraordinary was happening – he later claimed that his presence on the march showed he was "the instrument of destiny".

Throughout the parade, the tumultuous chaos and indiscipline of the crowd irritated de Gaulle. At one point, de Gaulle noticed a young résistant, one of the thousands who had risked their lives in the fighting, and who were lining the Champs Elysées. The young man wore an FFI (Forces Françaises de l'Intérieur) resistance armband, had a cigarette hanging from his lips, and was mad with joy. De Gaulle beckoned him over and spoke a few words into his ear; the résistant returned to the edge of the crowd. "What did he say to you?" he was eagerly asked. "Don't smoke on the procession," was the reply.

Was de Gaulle aware of Dukson's audacity in getting to the front of the parade? Perhaps. As he later wrote in his memoirs: "Some people with minor walk-on roles joined the cortege of my comrades, even though they had no right to. But no one paid them any attention." Dukson was undoubtedly the most notable of those "people with minor walk-on roles"; but he was not ignored, he was thrown off the procession. His face did not fit, even though, like many other resistance fighters who were also absent – women, communists, ordinary workers, foreigners – he truly had a right to be there.

In 1939, when the Second World War broke out, Dukson lived in Gabon, in what was then French West Africa. As his father had in 1914, Georges joined the French Army to fight in Europe. Captured shortly before the fall of France in 1940, Sergeant Dukson spent two years in a German prisoner-of-war camp before escaping and making his way back to France. Exactly how he managed this feat – a black man on the roads of Nazi Germany would surely have attracted attention – has been lost to history, but by 1943 he was a fugitive in occupied Paris. While the Nazis goose-stepped along the streets, rounding up Jews and members of the Resistance, Dukson simply tried to survive. Then came the Paris insurrection of August 1944, and Dukson's moment of glory.

In the week of bloody street fighting that preceded the German surrender, Dukson had played a vital role for the Resistance in the 17th arrondissement in the north of Paris, earning the title "the Lion of the 17th". When fighting broke out near his home on 20 August, Dukson rushed to help out and was put in command of a contingent of FFI Resistance fighters. Together with his comrades, Dukson destroyed several German troop lorries, and even captured a tank, leaping on to it and killing the driver. When the Resistance seized a new tank from a factory, they sent it out on to the streets to help the uprising; Dukson's group, armed only with revolvers and grenades, bravely accompanied it. In spectacular newsreel footage that was taken during the Paris insurrection, Dukson can be seen grinning on top of the vehicle. On 21 August, Dukson was wounded in the arm by a bullet, and he was again filmed on the newsreel, being helped by his comrades, clutching his rifle. As a consequence of his bravery, Dukson was rapidly promoted to the rank of sub-Lieutenant, and his fame soon spread through Paris. Holding court each night in a bar on the rue de Chéroy, he became a minor celebrity.

But there were to be no medals for Dukson. In the chaos that followed the Liberation of Paris, he took over an abandoned German garage and started selling the supplies he found there. Then he began "requisitioning" goods for the black market. Arrested on the orders of the Military Governor of Paris, he was shot and wounded while trying to escape, was taken to the hospital and died on the operating table. Despite his sad end, Dukson's role in the liberation of Paris represented the true spirit of the Resistance. In those famous images, full of pomp and politics, populated by white men in suits and uniforms, Dukson's unscripted appearance, bloodied but unbowed, audacious and full of verve, showed the role of ordinary French people in liberating their country.

Although black soldiers from French West Africa had formed the original heart of de Gaulle's Free French army – nearly 20,000 had joined up by October 1942 – none of Dukson's comrades from Africa were with Leclerc. We now know that the British and the Americans wanted Paris to be liberated by white faces, and took steps to remove African soldiers from the Leclerc division. Allied High Command claimed that the Parisians would be hostile to black fighters. Dukson's role, and his fame in the capital, proved that the Allies were wrong about this – but to no avail. The appalling way in which hundreds of thousands of Free French Arab soldiers were treated was highlighted in the harrowing feature film Days of Glory (2006). The story of the African fighters, and of men like Dukson, has yet to be told. Dukson was not the only African in the Resistance. Of the 1,030 members of the Order of the Liberation created by Charles de Gaulle, 14 were African. Hundreds of other black people played vital roles in the struggle. Most are long forgotten.

In the heroic days of August 1944 a new French myth had been forged; at its heart was de Gaulle. Throughout the war he had belittled, ignored or undermined the Resistance, yet he had finally ridden it to power, brushing aside those ordinary people whose sacrifice had helped bring about Liberation – people like Georges Dukson.

25 August, 1944

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

France

25 August, 1944            0730

Good Morning, darling –

This is the earliest in the day I’ve written you in a long while – but things are a bit different in a battery. Last night I slept out under the stars. We were supposed to move – but late in the evening it was canceled. We had already struck our tents – so we left them that way. It was a beautiful night, darling, and as I lay there looking up at the stars – I imagined every one of them was the first one I saw and I wished and wished and wished.

Today should be a pretty full day and that’s why we’re up to an early start. We had K-rations for breakfast and now we’re standing by for orders to get going. Yesterday I got a little chance to catch up with some of my back mail, dear, and I wrote a friend of mine in the Pacific and also Verna. I also started a very good book – which if you haven’t already read – I think you’ll enjoy – “Roughly Speaking” by Louis Randall Pierson – an autobiography – but one of the best I’ve read – at least so far. Have to stop now, darling. Sure did miss you last nite Sweetheart –

Love to the family.

My deepest love, dear

Greg

CLICK ON PICTURES TO ENLARGE

Perhaps the move into this estate was what made it a "full day".

Greg sits on the Kubelwagen behind his jeep,
both parked in front of the "Estate". (Back of picture, below)


Route of the Question Mark


[CLICK ON MAP TO ENLARGE]

(A) Lignières-la-Doucelle to (B) Les Fretis (75 Miles)
16 to 25 August 1944

August 25... Fetis les Fretis. We drove all night to reach this place in complete blackout. No one lost. The Red Cross clubmobile 'Everglades' visited us and the girls gave us coffee and doughnuts and ate supper with us.

* TIDBIT *

about the Liberation of Paris (for real)

From "The Liberation of Paris, 1944" chapter of EyeWitness to History, (2008) comes this piece:

As Allied forces broke through the German containment in the hedge row country beyond the Normandy beaches, Supreme Commander, General Dwight Eisenhower set his sights on a rush into Germany. Concerned that a battle for Paris would only bog down the advance, Eisenhower planned to by-pass the French capital. However, events on the ground would soon dictate a different course. On August 15, news of the Allied advance and of a second Allied landing on the coast of southern France reached the French capital. As the Germans began their evacuation, the Paris police, postal workers and metro workers went on strike. Within four days, a spontaneous uprising erupted. Led by the underground French Resistance (FFI), Parisians attacked their German occupiers, barricaded streets and created as much havoc as possible. General Charles de Gaulle, commander of the Free French Forces called upon General Eisenhower to divert forces to the city and threatened to attack the city on his own if his request was denied. Consenting, Eisenhower ordered de Gaulle to enter the city and diverted a portion of the American forces to support the French.

Hitler ordered General Dietrich von Choltitz, military commander of Paris, to destroy the city. The city's bridges were mined and preparations made to follow Hitler's request. However, von Choltitz hesitated. On August 20 he agreed to a cease-fire with the Parisian insurgents. It was a fragile agreement as sporadic fighting continued throughout the city.

On August 24, leading elements of de Gaulle's forces (led by General Jacques Leclerc) made their way into the French capital. The remainder followed the next day. Confronting pockets of intense German fighting, the liberators proceeded through the city. French tanks surrounded von Choltitz's headquarters. The commander of Paris was taken prisoner without resistance and signed a formal surrender agreement. Although sporadic fighting continued, General de Gaulle entered the city in a triumphal procession on the 25th. After four years, Paris was free again.

John Mac Vane was a NBC radio correspondent who accompanied the allied troops as they approached Paris. We join his story as the troops enter the city:

"We reached Paris itself, the university, at just ten minutes past eight by my watch. I felt like pinching myself. It was hard to believe I was back in Paris once again.

Suddenly a fusillade of bullets spattered on the street. The whole column came to a quick stop. We leaped out and crouched beside the jeep. FFI men started blazing away at something over our heads. Men in the dozen vehicles ahead of us began firing at something in the tower of the university. Germans in the tower were firing on the column. I saw the stone­work blasted off in white flakes as Leclerc's men kept it under continuous fire.

We were also being fired on from a nearby house. Some FFI men, with Leclerc's troops, got cover near the building, then rushed through the door and up the stairs. I heard the explosion of a grenade and the firing stopped. After about half an hour the tower of the university fell silent, and the column moved on. Twice again the column was held up in similar fashion. One moment the streets would be filled with people. At the first volley of shots they would scatter to the doorways. FFI men with ancient pistols and captured German rifles would start firing at what they thought was the source of the attack.

CLICK ON PICTURES TO ENLARGE

Resistance fighter shoots at a sniper

Whenever the trouble seemed serious, Leclerc's men would loose a few bursts of machine-gun fire from the weapons mounted on the trunks. Or a light tank would stop at a street comer and streams of tracers would spout out of it to cover our advance. We felt terribly unprotected in the jeep, and the noise of the bullets singing past us was most unpleasant.

Just as the column began moving again, a civilian in a black homburg jumped onto the jeep. I told him roughly to get off. The civilian grinned and told me in good but accented English that he was an American ASS agent who had been in Paris for three months preparing for our entry. He was French by birth but naturalized American. We let him ride with us down the boulevard Jourdain and through the porte d’Orleans. In the rue St.-Jacques he jumped off with a ‘thanks very much,’ smiled, and disappeared as mysteriously as he had come.

We passed across the bridge that led directly to the square between Notre Dame Cathedral and the Prefecture of Police. In the sunshine Paris had never looked more beautiful. It was then just a quarter to nine. The vehicles just ahead of us rolled into the square and parked, and we parked the jeep with them. Kokoska switched off the motor. We looked up at the lovely towers of Notre Dame, and someone said, ‘Well, that's that. The fight is all over now.’

As he finished speaking, the air crackled into life with bullets, hissing and whining all over the square. The French light tanks began firing over our heads at some Germans across the Seine. Germans were also shooting from Notre Dame and from nearby houses. For twenty-five minutes Wright, Jack Hansen, Kokoska, and I lay on our stomachs crouched beside the jeep. We could see no likely shelter of any kind. There was so much shooting that we could hardly hear one another speak. Guns, machine guns, rifles - everything was going off together in one great earsplitting, crackling inferno of sound.

Celebrators seek cover from sniper fire

The wounded were carried across the square by girls and doctors in Red Cross uniforms. They waved Red Cross flags. The shooting sputtered, then died down, and finally burst out with new fury before it ceased. The air was strangely quiet. I could see the sun glint on the white marks where the bullets had struck Notre Dame.

A new sound broke the hush of that Thursday morning the bells of Notre Dame. Someone began ringing them. They pealed over Paris as they had for so many hundreds of years, a song of triumph that Paris was once again free.

...There were some strange incidents in that square. Two men dressed in the helmets and uniforms of Paris firemen came up to me and, speaking in unmistakable American, said, ‘Are you guys Americans?’

‘Sure,’ I replied, ‘but what in hell are you guys doing in that getup?’

One of them, whose name I took down, reported to the authorities at his request, then promptly lost, said, ‘He and I are Eighth Air Force. I'm a pilot. He's a navigator. We got shot down, and the French underground took charge of us. We been in Paris for a month attached to this fire department unit. We have a hell of a time at night, going around fighting fires and killing Germans when we get the chance. I wouldn't have missed this for the world.’

‘Do you speak French?’ I asked.

‘Not a damn word,’ said the bomber pilot. ‘One of the firemen speaks a little English, and he does all the translating. We get into a house of some collaborator that is burning, and we bust up the whole inside before we put the fire out. Or maybe we just let it all burn down.’

When he left us, the pilot said, ‘Hell of a thing to have to go back to flying-after all this fun.’

On the same day, Charles de Gaulle, president of the Provisional Government of the French Republic moved back into the War Ministry on the rue Saint-Dominique, then, from the Hôtel de Ville, made a rousing speech to the crowd.

Why do you desire that we hide the emotion which seizes us all, men and women, who are here, at home, in Paris that stood up to liberate itself and that succeeded in doing this with its own hands?

No! We will not hide this deep and sacred emotion. These are minutes which go beyond each of our poor lives. Paris! Paris outraged! Paris broken! Paris martyred! But Paris liberated! Liberated by itself, liberated by its people with the help of the French armies, with the support and the help of all France, of the France that fights, of the only France, of the real France, of the eternal France!

Well! Since the enemy which held Paris has capitulated into our hands, France returns to Paris, to her home. She returns bloody, but quite resolute. She returns there enlightened by the immense lesson, but more certain than ever of her duties and of her rights.

I speak of her duties first, and I will sum them all up by saying that for now, it is a matter of the duties of war. The enemy is staggering, but he is not beaten yet. He remains on our soil.

It will not even be enough that we have, with the help of our dear and admirable Allies, chased him from our home for us to consider ourselves satisfied after what has happened. We want to enter his territory as is fitting, as victors.

This is why the French vanguard has entered Paris with guns blazing. This is why the great French army from Italy has landed in the south and is advancing rapidly up the Rhône valley. This is why our brave and dear Forces of the interior are going to arm themselves with modern weapons. It is for this revenge, this vengeance and justice, that we will keep fighting until the last day, until the day of total and complete victory.

This duty of war, all the men who are here and all those who hear us in France know that it demands national unity. We, who have lived the greatest hours of our History, we have nothing else to wish than to show ourselves, up to the end, worthy of France. Long live France!

24 August, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

24 August, 1944         1330

Dearest sweetheart –

First of all – note my new APO number of 230. You may or may not remember that one time in England I wrote you that that would be our new number and a few days later it was changed. Well – it is now official and apparently permanent – so start using it, dear. It has no significance whatsoever and our situation is unchanged.

This morning I decided to go out to one of the line batteries and stay for a few days. I’ll then return to battalion and stay awhile and then visit another battery – etc. It will give me a chance to see how things are going and be a change from the hum-drum of headquarters. Right now I’m at A Battery – which is in fact only about 8 kilometers (5 miles) from battalion. I had lunch here and have already seen a couple of sections. I was all ready to relax for the afternoon but just received a call from the battalion that a civilian came in looking for an M.D. From what I could gather by phone – a woman must be having a miscarriage or an abortion. By the way, dear – you do know the difference, don’t you? If not – medically speaking, an abortion is loss of pregnancy in the 1st 3 mos., miscarriage – in the middle 3 mos., and premature labor – in the last 3 months. Anyway – as soon as I finish writing this – I’ll go back to battalion and see how I can help, but I’ll return here again afterwards.

This postcard was enclosed in a letter.
Perhaps Greg passed through Mortagne-sur-Orne
(now called Mortagne-au-Perche) on his way to A Battery.

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Postcard of Mortagne-sur-Orne, Notre Dame Church


Notre Dame Church today.
This photo belongs to Dominique Pipet's Flickr Photostream


Postcard of La Chapelle-Montligeon
...and the same today

Yesterday, darling, you remember I told you my radio needed some repairing. It seemed that the battery was dead – and it was. I had brought along an extra one from England – but we didn’t have to use it. The boys had found a German truck with some batteries in it and I now have nine batteries (German) just the right voltage for my set. I do hope, sweetheart, that I return home long before I can use more than one or two of them.

The news has certainly been staggering of late and I’ll bet it must be a pleasure listening to the radio or reading the papers these days. Close as we are to things – we still get the same kick out of it too and every day seems full of more surprises. The news of Paris’s liberation was an amazing tonic for the French people – and although I personally wasn’t a witness to it – the people around here really went wild. They dug up (literally) bottles of fine champagne and wines and many a Frenchman was pretty high last night. And the collapse of Romania certainly is a good omen – for us. If it can only all end up in an early cessation of the damn thing and a speedy return home, darling, it will be wonderful. For certain it is that the agony of waiting is just that – agony. There doesn’t seem to be an earthly reason why I should be away from you, delaying our start in life – and yet here I am sitting here killing time. When I get to thinking of it for any length of time – it becomes almost maddening – and then I push it from my mind for awhile and try to forget. I have a feeling though that from here in – it will be quicker than we dared hope – and I certainly hope I’m not wrong in that feeling. I’ll close now, Sweetheart – I love you and want you more each day! Will write tomorrow; Until then – love to the folks and

All my deepest love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about The Collapse of Romania

News certainly traveled quickly on the front. Greg mentioned the collapse of Romania the day after it occured. From Wikipedia comes this information:

On 13 April 1939, France and the United Kingdom had pledged to guarantee the independence of the Kingdom of Romania. Negotiations with the Soviet Union concerning a similar guarantee collapsed when Romania refused to allow the Red Army to cross its frontiers. In September 1940, the pro-German anti-Bolshevik régime of Prime Minister Marshal Ion Antonescu staged a coup d'état against King Carol II, whom the Marshal claimed to be "anti-German". Antonescu suspended the Constitution, dissolved the Parliament, and re-installed the 18-year-old Michael as King by popular acclaim. On 22 June 1941, Germany launched "Operation Barbarossa", attacking the Soviet Union on a wide front. Romania joined in the offensive and fought side by side with the Germans onward to Odessa, Sevastopol, Stalingrad and the Caucasus. The Romanian contribution of troops was enormous. The total number of troops involved in the Romanian Third Army and the Romanian Fourth Army was second only to Nazi Germany itself. The Romanian Army had a total of 686,258 men under arms in the summer of 1941 and a total of 1,224,691 men in the summer of 1944.

By 1944, the Romanian economy was in tatters because of the expenses of the war, and destructive Allied air bombing throughout Romania, including the capital, Bucharest. In addition, most of the products sent to Germany were provided without monetary compensation. As a result of these "uncompensated exports", inflation in Romania skyrocketed, causing widespread discontent among the Romanian population, even among groups and individuals who had once enthusiastically supported the Germans and the war. On 23 August 1944, just as the Red Army was penetrating the Moldavian front, King Michael led a successful coup with support from opposition politicians and the army. King Michael, who was initially considered to be not much more than a figurehead, was able to successfully depose the Antonescu dictatorship.

King Michael
A great-great-grandson of Queen Victoria
by both of his parents,
and a third cousin of Queen Elizabeth II

The King then offered a non-confrontational retreat to German ambassador Manfred von Killinger. But the Germans considered the coup "reversible" and attempted to turn the situation around by military force. The Romanian First, Second (forming), and what little was left of the Third and the Fourth Armies (one corps) were under orders from the King to defend Romania against any German attacks. King Michael offered to put the Romanian Army, which at that point had a strength of nearly 1,000,000 men, on the side of the Allies.

This resulted in a split of the country between those that still supported Germany and its armies and those that supported the new government, the latter often forming partisan groups and gradually gaining the most support. To the Germans the situation was very precarious as Romanian units had been integrated in the Axis defensive lines: not knowing which units were still loyal to the Axis cause and which ones joined the Soviets or discontinued fighting altogether, defensive lines could suddenly collapse.

In a radio broadcast to the Romanian nation and army on the night of 23 August, King Michael issued a cease-fire, proclaimed Romania's loyalty to the Allies, announced the acceptance of an armistice (to be signed on September 12) offered by Great Britain, the United States, and the USSR, and declared war on Germany. The coup accelerated the Red Army's advance into Romania, but did not avert a rapid Soviet occupation and capture of about 130,000 Romanian soldiers, who were transported to the Soviet Union where many perished in prison camps. The armistice was signed three weeks later on 12 September 1944, on terms virtually dictated by the Soviet Union. Under the terms of the armistice, Romania announced its unconditional surrender to the USSR and was placed under occupation of the Allied forces with the Soviet Union as their representative, in control of media, communication, post, and civil administration behind the front. It has been suggested that the coup may have shortened World War II by up to six months, thus saving hundreds of thousands of lives.

As the country declared war on Germany on the night of 23 August, border clashes between Hungarian and Romanian troops erupted almost immediately. On 24 August German troops attempted to seize Bucharest and suppress King Michael's coup, but were repelled by the city's defenses, which enjoyed some support from the United States Air Force. Ambassador von Killinger, a Navy officer who had been representing the Third Reich in Romania since 1941, chose suicide over being handed to the Soviets.

Other Wehrmacht units in the country suffered severe losses: remnants of the Sixth Army retreating west of the Prut River were cut off and destroyed by the Red Army, which was now advancing at an even greater speed, while Romanian units attacked German garrisons at the Ploieşti oilfields, forcing them to retreat to Hungary. The Romanian Army captured over 50,000 German prisoners around this time, who were later surrendered to the Soviets. The Romanian Army ended the war fighting against the Wehrmacht alongside the Red Army in Transylvania, Hungary, Yugoslavia, Austria and Czechoslovakia, from August 1944 until the end of the war in Europe. In May 1945, the First and Fourth armies took part in the Prague Offensive. The Romanian Army incurred heavy casualties fighting Nazi Germany. Of some 538,000 Romanian soldiers who fought against the Axis in 1944-45, some 167,000 were killed, wounded or went missing.

23 August, 1944

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 403 % Postmaster, N.Y.

France

23 August, 1944         0945

Wilma darling –

A shortie today – for reasons of entertainment and morale –– : my radio went phooey last night and if I can get the radio repair man to look at it now – I might get it fixed. Otherwise he leaves soon and generally doesn’t get back until dark.

Yesterday was a nice warm day again, sweetheart, and we went looking for a shower point. As usual – when we got to the spot – they had moved out – so we went looking for a creek, river or anything where we could wash up. We found a swell pond and had a swim and tried to wash up – but as usual with ponds – we ended up dirtier than when we started.

Today – if I can get my radio fixed – and out of the way – I’ll do some washing and then I’ll be ready for the next drive – whenever that may be. All else is well darling – except my love for you which can only be expressed as excellent, tops or the ‘ne plus ultra’. I do love you strongly, dearest – is what I’m trying to say – and in any language – you must know what I mean! Love to the folks, dear and

All my everlasting love ––

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about The Freckleton Disaster

This information, including photographs, was excerpted from the Freckleton Disaster web site posted by the Lancashire Aircraft Investigation Team (Copyright © Russell Brown & Nick Wotherspoon 2007)

At 1030 hours on Wednesday 23 August 1944, a B-24 Liberator named CLASSY CHASSIS II was cleared for take-off from Warton Airfield. The plane had been brought to the U.S. 8th Army Air Force's huge Base Air Depot (BAD) 2 for refurbishment prior to being allocated to the 2nd Combat Division. On this day, she was being test-flown before resuming service and this task fell to 1st Lieutenant John A. Bloemendal, one of BAD 2's regular test pilots, with T/Sgt Jimmie Parr as co-pilot and Sgt Gordon Kinney as flight engineer. The take-off was uneventful and the B-24 headed out over the Lancashire countryside, accompanied by a second B-24, being test-flown by 1st Lieutenant Pete Manassero. Over the radio, Bloemendal called Manassero's attention to the cloud formation towards the South-Southeast. It was a very impressive sight and looked like a "thunderhead" according to Manassero.

1st Lt. John A. Bloemendal, Test Pilot

Less than five minutes after the B-24s left, a telephone call reached the base from Base Air Depot 1, at Burtonwood, warning of a violent storm approaching the Preston area and immediately an order was issued recalling both aircraft. By the time the two B-24's arrived back over Warton, the storm was at its height. Witnesses relate the rain was so heavy that it was impossible to see across the road. Thunder and lightning rolled across the sky and the wind was of such ferocity as to uproot trees and smash hen cabins on a nearby farm. A contemporary local newspaper reported a trail of destruction across the Northwest; Hutton Meteorological Station, which was fairly clear of the storm, recorded wind velocity of nearly 60 m.p.h., with water spouts being observed in the Ribble estuary, and flash flooding in Southport and Blackpool. Radio conversations monitored by Warton's tower indicated that the two B-24 pilots had abandoned their attempts to land and were heading North to hold clear until the storm abated.

Manassero was flying on Bloemendal's right wing approximately 100 yards away. This is what he reported:

"As we drew near the field, I drew further out to be in position to land (as) number two. We let down to 500 feet and about four miles Northwest of the field we encountered rain and it became heavier with less visibility as we neared the approach to Runway 08. On the base leg position Lt Bloemendal let down his gear (sic) and I did the same. Shortly after this I lost sight of Bloemendal's aircraft. As I flew over Lytham, I started a left turn to start the approach. At this time I heard Lt Bloemendal notify "Faram" [Control] that he was pulling up the wheels and going around. I was then over the wash (sic) and could not see the ground and had to fly on instruments. I then called Lt Bloemendal and told him we had better head north and get out of the storm. He answered "OK". I then told him I would take a heading of about 330 degrees... He said "Roger." That was the last I heard from Lt. Bloemendal. I flew about four or five minutes on a heading of about 330 degrees before breaking out of the storm. I then called Lt Bloemendal and asked if he was OK, and did not get a reply."

The B-24's fate had been sealed; already flying low to the ground with it's wings now near vertical, the B-24 ripped the top off a tree, shed it's right wingtip as it chopped off the corner of a building, leaving the rest of the wing ploughing along the ground through a hedge. The 25-ton bomber carried on, partly demolishing three houses and the "The Sad Sack" Snack Bar. It's momentum continued, took it across Lytham Road and finally ended as it disintegrated in the crash. Part of the plane destroyed the infants' wing of Freckleton Holy Trinity School and the whole area burst into a sea of flames as 3,000 gallons of fuel from the ruptured tanks ignited. The clock in one classroom stopped at 10:47 a.m.

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Staff at the"Sad Sack" Snack Bar
and the Snack Bar after the crash.

Just as suddenly as it began, the severest thunderstorm the Base - and many of the villagers - had ever experienced, was gone. From the smouldering remains of the infants' classroom only three youngsters emerged alive, 35 children and two teachers having died. Those sheltering from the storm in the "Sad Sack" Snack Bar stood no chance as the building took the full force of the impact and rescuers found the bodies of six USAAF and four RAF personnel along with several civilians amongst thedebris. Several of the more seriously injured victims died during the following week and when the formal inquest into the tragedy opened on September 8th 1944, the total death toll was 61.

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Flames from the wrecked school room
and an image of the losses.

The official report into the crash summarized that the exact cause was unknown, though it was the opinion of the Investigating committee that the pilot made an error in his judgment of the violence of the storm. They concluded that Lt. Bloemendal had not fully realized the danger until he made his approach to land, by which time he had insufficient altitude and speed to maneuver given the violent winds and downdrafts he must have encountered during his attempt to withdraw from the area. It was also thought possible that structural failure may have occurred in the extreme conditions, though it was noted that the aircraft was so completely destroyed as to make any such investigation impossible.