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W. Earl Hall World War II stories, 1944
Letter #5
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Passed for Publication 22 Aug 1944 By W. EARL HALL Globe-Gazette Managing Editor Letter No. 5 London (Air Mail)-- Yes, it's true what they say and sing about the River Shannon down there in the Limerick area of old Erin. It may even be that the story has been somewhat understated. That was the impression I gained the other day on my fleeting stop on the well-named Emerald isle. I traveled some 50 miles through the countryside. I saw Limerick at close range. I ate Irish food. I met and talked with Irish people. All of these things I enjoyed. My one regret was that my stay had to be so limited. My time in South Ireland began with a delicious breakfast in the very early morning--the crack of dawn, in fact. It consisted of thick, tasty ham, an egg, a dish of porridge, coffee, toast and an assortment of jams and honey. It wasn't the kind of meal that leads to a lesser waist line. I salved my conscience, however, with the reasoning that it would probably be the last big breakfast I'd have in some time. A motor ride along the Shannon river gave us a close-up view of Irish agriculture and of Irish village life, with an occasional glimpse of an ancient castle, reminder of an era long since past in Eire. The towns are stretched out along the road, with business houses flush against the pavement and the dwellings set just far enough back to accommodate a front yard flower garden. On our entire journey we encountered no more than a half dozen motor vehicles. There were bicycles and there were 2 wheel carts drawn by 1 horse. But trucks and automobiles were almost missing. "While we don't have cars in such numbers as you do in America," a native observed, "you shouldn't think they're as scarce here as they seem to be. We do have quite a few automobiles and trucks but they're mostly tied up for lack of petrol." The chief distinguishing mark of the Limerick countryside, I should say, is the network of stone fences. They're everywhere and they run every which way. In some cases the stones are held together by masonry but ore often they are merely piled one on the other. They serve two purposes. They provide boundaries for the fields. But perhaps evey more important, they enable the users of the land to dispose of the rocks from their land. Dairying obviously dominates the agriculture of this section of Ireland. Rather nice looking herds of cattle were to be seen all along the way and there were several rather sizable creameries. Pastures were lush from an adequacy of moisture. Sprinkled among the pastures were fields of small grain, in shock. Mostly it was wheat, with an occasional field of oats, barley or rye. Bundles in an Irish wheat field are set one upon another in a manner that makes the shocks look like our American shocks of corn. Fields are universally small and irregularly shaped. As we bumped along along over the hard-top road, I kept thinking of some of my abstractor friends back home and the fun they'd have arriving at an ample "description" of these plots of real estate. The River Shannon itself is a sizable stream, easy-flowing and tranquil. At Limerick it has begun to broaden out into its wide estuary. It's definitely a part of the charm of southwestern Eire. Some day I'd like to go back and stay longer--much longer. -- 30 --
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Passed for Publication 22 Aug 1944 By W. EARL HALL Globe-Gazette Managing Editor Letter No. 5 London (Air Mail)-- Yes, it's true what they say and sing about the River Shannon down there in the Limerick area of old Erin. It may even be that the story has been somewhat understated. That was the impression I gained the other day on my fleeting stop on the well-named Emerald isle. I traveled some 50 miles through the countryside. I saw Limerick at close range. I ate Irish food. I met and talked with Irish people. All of these things I enjoyed. My one regret was that my stay had to be so limited. My time in South Ireland began with a delicious breakfast in the very early morning--the crack of dawn, in fact. It consisted of thick, tasty ham, an egg, a dish of porridge, coffee, toast and an assortment of jams and honey. It wasn't the kind of meal that leads to a lesser waist line. I salved my conscience, however, with the reasoning that it would probably be the last big breakfast I'd have in some time. A motor ride along the Shannon river gave us a close-up view of Irish agriculture and of Irish village life, with an occasional glimpse of an ancient castle, reminder of an era long since past in Eire. The towns are stretched out along the road, with business houses flush against the pavement and the dwellings set just far enough back to accommodate a front yard flower garden. On our entire journey we encountered no more than a half dozen motor vehicles. There were bicycles and there were 2 wheel carts drawn by 1 horse. But trucks and automobiles were almost missing. "While we don't have cars in such numbers as you do in America," a native observed, "you shouldn't think they're as scarce here as they seem to be. We do have quite a few automobiles and trucks but they're mostly tied up for lack of petrol." The chief distinguishing mark of the Limerick countryside, I should say, is the network of stone fences. They're everywhere and they run every which way. In some cases the stones are held together by masonry but ore often they are merely piled one on the other. They serve two purposes. They provide boundaries for the fields. But perhaps evey more important, they enable the users of the land to dispose of the rocks from their land. Dairying obviously dominates the agriculture of this section of Ireland. Rather nice looking herds of cattle were to be seen all along the way and there were several rather sizable creameries. Pastures were lush from an adequacy of moisture. Sprinkled among the pastures were fields of small grain, in shock. Mostly it was wheat, with an occasional field of oats, barley or rye. Bundles in an Irish wheat field are set one upon another in a manner that makes the shocks look like our American shocks of corn. Fields are universally small and irregularly shaped. As we bumped along along over the hard-top road, I kept thinking of some of my abstractor friends back home and the fun they'd have arriving at an ample "description" of these plots of real estate. The River Shannon itself is a sizable stream, easy-flowing and tranquil. At Limerick it has begun to broaden out into its wide estuary. It's definitely a part of the charm of southwestern Eire. Some day I'd like to go back and stay longer--much longer. -- 30 --
World War II Diaries and Letters
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