Late May and June brought weariness
and perhaps a misfit feeling that comes from having survived a crisis that
ends—a mixture of let-down and puzzlement as to what to expect next. These feelings I think I shared with the
thousands of Americans all around me in the European Theater of Operation
(ETO). Most of us recognized we were in
an interlude that threatened to end with departure to Japan.
Meanwhile we had learned of the
intensity with which our airplanes were fire-bombing scores of Japanese
cities. President Truman had
participated in the Potsdam Conference with the leadership of England and
Russia and had called for the surrender of Japan.* But there was no sign of the ending of the
war in the Pacific. *Wikipedia
My responsibilities carried on in
the Shanty and in the wards. Accidents
and illnesses among the troops meant that our hospital services still were
needed but I didn’t have to work nearly so hard and long. I still went occasionally to check in at the
Paris headquarters of the Croix Rouge, continued to catch Jeep rides to
sightsee nearby. A new travel option was
an arranged R & R, recreation and relaxation trip offered to the troops and
available to me. One such trip I managed
to take―to visit Switzerland for a week or so.
Along with Army officers and nurses
I travelled by Swiss trains, starting from Basel, east of us, and making
one-night stops in most of the frequently visited tourist sites. Sometimes we stayed in bed and breakfast
places and to my surprise I found the Swiss hosts I met rather uppity, feeling
quite superior. More than one person
suggested that we Americans were less than smart—why didn’t Americans just stay
neutral like they do and make money supplying those that like to fight?
On my first travel day I learned to
respect Swiss trains which indeed run precisely on time as scheduled. Also the first time our train made a station
stop, I learned never to fail to carry a pocket full of coins. Aware of the train departure time I rushed
madly into the ladies water closet, slammed the stall door and to my horror saw
that their mounted coin slot was attached on the inside of the
automatically-locking door. I had no
coins; nobody was around. I panicked;
couldn’t crawl over the top; the space under the bottom edge of the stall door
was about 8 inches from the floor—my only hope for escape. Somehow I squeezed out and caught my train.
I loved seeing the
lakes, taking a gondola from peak to peak and lunching at ski areas, visiting
the cities. The whole country to my
amazement was a perfectly manicured garden—so different from the beauty of the
plains and mountains of Colorado.
Another trip I had that ETO-summer
was to see my brother again at his hospital in Liege, Belgium. Our visit was unusually rewarding: as adults we had learned to enjoy each other
after many “warring” years as we were growing up.
We had time to shop at the showroom
of the world famous crystal manufacturer, Val St. Lambert. At prices that were ridiculously low Neill
and I bought for our parents a water pitcher and set of glasses and had them sent
home to Colorado. I purchased for myself
and had sent home a complete set of water and wine stemware. With few customers during wartime, linen and
lace retailers also enticed Allied military with bargain prices. On that trip I was successfully enticed and
bought for myself some hand-embroidered table linens and a set of individual
tablemats made of Liege lace.
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