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W. Earl Hall World War II stories, 1944

1944-08-23 Letter by W. Earl Hall Page 1

slug-London Joy 4 pg
(Note:  The following letter, written Aug 23 when French patriots claimed they had liberated Paris, describes London's emotions on hearing the premature announcement of the Liberation of the French capital.)
By W. Earl Hall
Managing Editor Globe-Gazette
Letter No. 2
London--(Air Mail)--This is being written on the evening of the day that Paris fell.  As I've gone about the city I've noted an air of restrained jubilation.  The English just aren't the kind of people to throw their hats in the air and shout.
There's a universal feeling that it's the greatest allied victory in this war, at least in its implications.  But it still doesn't mean the end of war.  The blackout tonight is exactly the same as 5 years ago.  The dread of robot bombing persists.
No, it isn't a night of hilarious celebration in London.  The spirit and attitude, I should say, is more that of prayerful thanksgiving.
The news of the reoccupation of Paris by the French broke during the noon hour and was made an occasion for special broadcasts, featuring the Marseillaise, by BBC.  Special editions were issued by the whole convey of London afternoon newspapers.
I had spent a forenoon at the office of American censorship and the British ministry of information headquarters and was en route down to the Savoy for lunch when the news broke.
The tidings were brought to me by an English gentlewoman and her venerable mother whom I had met in the hotel lobby earlier in the week.  They had come into London from their country home nearer the buzz bomb coast to catch up on their sleep a bit.
Many of the bombs deflected by the balloon cables, the ack-ack guns and by fighter planes had been dropping in their area.  Incidentally that's one of the patriotic sacrifices being made by those people of coastal England about which not too much has been said up to this time.
This woman--Lady Withers--served with the American Red Cross in the last war.  Her husband, a linguist with a mastery of a half dozen languages, is engaged in censorship in this war.
Much of the time between the wars, she and her husband made their home in Paris.  They were driven out by the Hitler invader in 1940.  After victory in this war, they plan to go back to their home in France.  Touring America in an automobile is another of their ambitions.
When I came down the approach to the Savoy entrance, I was greeted by this English gentlewoman and her aged mother.
"Have you heard the wonderful news?"
And before I could answer she exclaimed:
"Paris is ours again."
"I knew the France of old--the fighting France," she exclaimed.  "I'm sure there has now been a rebirth of that old courage."
There were tears in her eyes.  When we talked about Laval, she exhibited a contempt: deep-rooted contempt.  Whatever is done by way of reprisal against those who sold out to Hitler will have this one essentially kind woman's fullest blessing.  Of that I'm very sure.
While the average Londoner on the street is confident that Hitler's fate is sealed the more tightly by taking of Paris, not many are disposed to predict immediate victory.
"If it hasn't come by the first of December, we're pretty sure to have another winter of war."
This is a view I've heard from numerous British citizens.  And Americans who should be in the know are convinced almost to the last man that there's plenty of stiff fighting ahead.
Paris is regarded as another most important station on the road to victory--but not the getting off place by any means.

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slug-London Joy 4 pg (Note: The following letter, written Aug 23 when French patriots claimed they had liberated Paris, describes London's emotions on hearing the premature announcement of the Liberation of the French capital.) By W. Earl Hall Managing Editor Globe-Gazette Letter No. 2 London--(Air Mail)--This is being written on the evening of the day that Paris fell. As I've gone about the city I've noted an air of restrained jubilation. The English just aren't the kind of people to throw their hats in the air and shout. There's a universal feeling that it's the greatest allied victory in this war, at least in its implications. But it still doesn't mean the end of war. The blackout tonight is exactly the same as 5 years ago. The dread of robot bombing persists. No, it isn't a night of hilarious celebration in London. The spirit and attitude, I should say, is more that of prayerful thanksgiving. The news of the reoccupation of Paris by the French broke during the noon hour and was made an occasion for special broadcasts, featuring the Marseillaise, by BBC. Special editions were issued by the whole convey of London afternoon newspapers. I had spent a forenoon at the office of American censorship and the British ministry of information headquarters and was en route down to the Savoy for lunch when the news broke. The tidings were brought to me by an English gentlewoman and her venerable mother whom I had met in the hotel lobby earlier in the week. They had come into London from their country home nearer the buzz bomb coast to catch up on their sleep a bit. Many of the bombs deflected by the balloon cables, the ack-ack guns and by fighter planes had been dropping in their area. Incidentally that's one of the patriotic sacrifices being made by those people of coastal England about which not too much has been said up to this time. This woman--Lady Withers--served with the American Red Cross in the last war. Her husband, a linguist with a mastery of a half dozen languages, is engaged in censorship in this war. Much of the time between the wars, she and her husband made their home in Paris. They were driven out by the Hitler invader in 1940. After victory in this war, they plan to go back to their home in France. Touring America in an automobile is another of their ambitions. When I came down the approach to the Savoy entrance, I was greeted by this English gentlewoman and her aged mother. "Have you heard the wonderful news?" And before I could answer she exclaimed: "Paris is ours again." "I knew the France of old--the fighting France," she exclaimed. "I'm sure there has now been a rebirth of that old courage." There were tears in her eyes. When we talked about Laval, she exhibited a contempt: deep-rooted contempt. Whatever is done by way of reprisal against those who sold out to Hitler will have this one essentially kind woman's fullest blessing. Of that I'm very sure. While the average Londoner on the street is confident that Hitler's fate is sealed the more tightly by taking of Paris, not many are disposed to predict immediate victory. "If it hasn't come by the first of December, we're pretty sure to have another winter of war." This is a view I've heard from numerous British citizens. And Americans who should be in the know are convinced almost to the last man that there's plenty of stiff fighting ahead. Paris is regarded as another most important station on the road to victory--but not the getting off place by any means.