How divine it was to be thawing out
after our all night wet ride! Once we
females were assigned spaces inside the tent and our loads were dumped on our
Army cots, we fished out our aluminum cases containing our steel knife, fork
and spoon and our metal drinking cup and rushed out to breakfast in the
deliciously warm sunshine. The bottom
part of the tin case covered with heaps of scrambled dried eggs, probably
potatoes and maybe even a pancake, we dived in—but not just “we.” Honeybee after honeybee joined the feast.
None of us realized that between
the loaded fork and the mouth there is an un-seeable point. Two or three diners had their tongues stung,
tipping off the rest of us to watch out.
Those bees knew precisely when to land on the bite of food and plagued
us constantly in Normandy, and later, in open-air eating. At most meals some mouths got stung. It was frustrating to know you’d have your
turn any bite.
That morning, well fed and warm
again, we sensed the drama of being in this apple orchard. Along with other Normandy apple orchards our
new grounds seemed almost sacred.
American bodies still were being discovered in the weeded ditches
surrounding the orchards so of course we began to imagine that in ours there
WAS an unusual odor. Without discussing
it much, usually two by two we wandered around the first couple of days
searching the thistles and tall weeds under the tree-hedged perimeter. We never learned whether or not that apple
orchard was the scene of a battle since no evidence was found.
Our latrine was a ditch dug by our
GIs. For privacy there was a chest-high
canvas wall surrounding it. We dressed
inside our dark tents but had to go out in the light to comb our hair or put on
make-up. After dressing the hours
stretched ahead with nothing whatever to do until the next meal except to watch
the big Army supply trucks, each with its brightly painted Red Ball covering
its side door, rumble up or down the nearby road.
“What an opportunity,” thought Mary
Kate and I and we proceeded to get approval to hitch-hike. So off we went almost every day thumbing a
ride with whatever GI driver came along traveling toward a destination that was
new to us. As we entered a town that looked interesting (by noon or before) we
would jump out of the front seat, and note how long it had taken to arrive at
that village. We explored the town or
village and visited with the few people around but always with our eyes on our
watches. When we had just the amount of
time left to get home in time for supper, we walked back to the road and
thumbed a ride back to our apple orchard.
We were not far from Bayeux, the
home of the famous historic tapestries and we hoped to go there but we never
did. Bayeux must not have been on the
main road. I remember Sainte-Mere
Eglise, one of the larger towns. We
seldom knew the names of the villages.
Most were in Normandy but some were in Burgundy, farther west and
north.
Such a lot we learned about the
area, its country life, its beauty and its problems. The people, though surprised to see us, were
very friendly and kind. Mary Kate and I
sometimes had to choose a house, swallow our pride and knock on the door to ask
to use their toilet facilities.
In town, country and city
throughout France there were pissoirs in abundance for the men; however, for
women there were absolutely no public toilets to be found. In Paris in the main subway entrances there
were facilities for women but they were pitch black and underground and they
were unsafe to enter during the war.
Electricity was in short supply.
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