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W. Earl Hall World War II stories, 1944
Letter #26
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Slug-Evacuees Find -4 (Note: The following letter, providing observations on Normandy, was delayed in reaching the Globe-Gazette.) By W. EARL HALL Globe-Gazette Managing Editor Letter No. 26 Somewhere in Normandy--(Army Bomber Transit)--In what follows I'm leafing back through my notebook for some random observations drawn from 5 days of wondering about all sections of the Cherbourg peninsula. Normandy is regarded as Frances's most prosperous agricultural section. Thus far, however, I haven't seen a single field of grain. It's all grazing land for beef and dairy cattle and apple orchards for cider and calvados, the latter a drink almost as potent as cognac. Fields are small, not many of them as large as 5 acres. Hedgerows separate all fields. It would be my guess that somewhere around 5 per cent of Normandy's land is taken out of productive use by these decorative growths. Americans--and the Germans before them--have made full use of the ancient chateaus. They're ideal for headquarters, hidden as they are among lofty trees. The one near where this is written was built in 1610--3 years after Jamestown was settled--and destroyed during the French revolution in 1789--the year our constitution was adopted. When it comes to voting, I don't know how it will be. But women certainly are on terms of equality with French men when it comes to work. Even young girls will be found on the business end of a shovel or wheelbarrel. Women work in the fields, milk cows, paint houses and clear away the war's rubble. There's no double standard in this regard. It never gets severely cold or uncomfortably hot in Normandy--thanks to the moderating influence of the sea on all sides. Apples aren't harvested until late October or November. At this time they're small--and sour. Incidentally the best apples I've seen thus far were growing on trees which took the form of shrubbery at one of the chateaus I visited yesterday. There's a central trunk, with the branches shooting off parallel with the path, much as vines train along the side of a building. This was a new phenomenon to me. American flags are to be seen in only one place here in Normandy--over bases actually occupied by American soldiers or sailors. Everywhere else, even over the shambles which once were cities, it's the tri-colors of France. It's a matter of psychology--the same psychology which dictated having Paris entered by French troops. French stores are pretty sorry affairs. They're reopening with pathetically small stock. There are 2--only 2--articles in abundance--cider and camembert cheese. The going price is 9 francs--18 cents--a pound. To me the saddest sight I've seen--sadder even than the devastated cities--is the family returning from prolonged evacuation with household effects in horse-drawn cart, in wheelbarrel or carried on shoulders. Even the small children have a part in this last-mentioned mode of transport. Many are coming back to a home that won't be there. All Americans are earnestly admonished against drinking untreated water. No unnecessary chance is being taken with our fighting men's health. As in England, water is never served with meals; you have to ask for it and it's brought to you from what is called a "Lister bag." Several French Liaison officers have expressed to me the same estimate of DeGaulle. He's a great guy and a great leader, the one man to whom the French can look for leadership in the troublous 2 or 3 years that lie ahead. But when things settle down, there must be a free election in the best French tradition. French children are cute and cunning--many of them beautiful. But they seemingly outgrow it at about age 14 or 15. Maybe it's my fault but I haven't yet seen what would be called a beautiful woman since I hit the Normandy beach 5 days ago. -- 30 --
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Slug-Evacuees Find -4 (Note: The following letter, providing observations on Normandy, was delayed in reaching the Globe-Gazette.) By W. EARL HALL Globe-Gazette Managing Editor Letter No. 26 Somewhere in Normandy--(Army Bomber Transit)--In what follows I'm leafing back through my notebook for some random observations drawn from 5 days of wondering about all sections of the Cherbourg peninsula. Normandy is regarded as Frances's most prosperous agricultural section. Thus far, however, I haven't seen a single field of grain. It's all grazing land for beef and dairy cattle and apple orchards for cider and calvados, the latter a drink almost as potent as cognac. Fields are small, not many of them as large as 5 acres. Hedgerows separate all fields. It would be my guess that somewhere around 5 per cent of Normandy's land is taken out of productive use by these decorative growths. Americans--and the Germans before them--have made full use of the ancient chateaus. They're ideal for headquarters, hidden as they are among lofty trees. The one near where this is written was built in 1610--3 years after Jamestown was settled--and destroyed during the French revolution in 1789--the year our constitution was adopted. When it comes to voting, I don't know how it will be. But women certainly are on terms of equality with French men when it comes to work. Even young girls will be found on the business end of a shovel or wheelbarrel. Women work in the fields, milk cows, paint houses and clear away the war's rubble. There's no double standard in this regard. It never gets severely cold or uncomfortably hot in Normandy--thanks to the moderating influence of the sea on all sides. Apples aren't harvested until late October or November. At this time they're small--and sour. Incidentally the best apples I've seen thus far were growing on trees which took the form of shrubbery at one of the chateaus I visited yesterday. There's a central trunk, with the branches shooting off parallel with the path, much as vines train along the side of a building. This was a new phenomenon to me. American flags are to be seen in only one place here in Normandy--over bases actually occupied by American soldiers or sailors. Everywhere else, even over the shambles which once were cities, it's the tri-colors of France. It's a matter of psychology--the same psychology which dictated having Paris entered by French troops. French stores are pretty sorry affairs. They're reopening with pathetically small stock. There are 2--only 2--articles in abundance--cider and camembert cheese. The going price is 9 francs--18 cents--a pound. To me the saddest sight I've seen--sadder even than the devastated cities--is the family returning from prolonged evacuation with household effects in horse-drawn cart, in wheelbarrel or carried on shoulders. Even the small children have a part in this last-mentioned mode of transport. Many are coming back to a home that won't be there. All Americans are earnestly admonished against drinking untreated water. No unnecessary chance is being taken with our fighting men's health. As in England, water is never served with meals; you have to ask for it and it's brought to you from what is called a "Lister bag." Several French Liaison officers have expressed to me the same estimate of DeGaulle. He's a great guy and a great leader, the one man to whom the French can look for leadership in the troublous 2 or 3 years that lie ahead. But when things settle down, there must be a free election in the best French tradition. French children are cute and cunning--many of them beautiful. But they seemingly outgrow it at about age 14 or 15. Maybe it's my fault but I haven't yet seen what would be called a beautiful woman since I hit the Normandy beach 5 days ago. -- 30 --
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