No word came through that our
troops had managed to take back Metz. We
kept trying to figure out where Patton’s army was, which way it was
moving. Then we got move orders. Not far down the Meuse River from Verdun we
arrived at Bar-Le-Duc where we remained in full working mode for the next year
or so—staying close to Germany but in French Alsace. (The Alsace-Lorraine area for hundreds of
years, really, had switched back and forth, now French, now German. The residents had to adjust to living like
that.)
As we arrived at the charming town
of Bar-Le-Duc we drove toward the lower part of the village. Like a giant’s stair step on the right,
hovered the rest of the village. Soon we
learned that the royalty part of the town was above on the Bar. There an historic Catholic Cathedral lay just
below the duke’s palace on a street that led to a large nunnery with its
affiliated schools and related buildings.
In the people’s part of town below
the supporting trades and craft people and workers had been living for
centuries. The shops still seemed quaint
to me and flowing through the town was a really captivating canal with a
respectable amount of water. On each
side of the canal were closely planted full grown poplar trees marching out of
sight in each direction. Lying at their feet was an inviting dirt walking path.
Beyond the lower town, for about a
mile back toward Germany, our outfit left the gravel road to turn into a
run-down old French army post, and we were home at last! Our living quarters, of course, after what
we’d been through were of intense interest to us women. We were all to be bivouacked in a well-used
old barny, stuccoed one-story building, with crumbling wooden floors. Its location was a bit shocking; just beside
a creek with a bare trickle of water, obviously used as a dump by neighboring
residents.
Fortunately for us Red Cross five,
there were two little squares walled off from the large area. Two other Red Crossers and I were assigned to
one, and the social worker and other recreation worker took the other. Our square had a window facing all the rest
of the camp. The walls were bare; near
the far wall sat an old pot-bellied heating stove. That left just enough room to comfortably set
an army cot under the window, with the other two against the remaining
walls. No table, no chairs, no
shelves. It looked like heaven to us!
However some flaws did
begin to reveal themselves. First and
foremost we were revolted by the rats that dashed in and out of the trash in
the creek behind out building. The limited
number of toilets and washbowls in our one-room facility that had to serve more
than 100 women, we soon learned, required fine-planned scheduling.
The only bathing available was
about a short block away in an unheated building where I recall only 1 enclosed
shower, but possibly there were 2. Talk
about scheduling! There was no dressing
area in the unheated building, so we had to wear our heaviest outdoor coats
coming and going, often on snow-covered walks.
Not so bad going, but it was wretched coming back. The wonder of it was that no one caught
cold—we seemed to be sniffle free as a whole group that entire unusually frigid
winter.
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