8. Paris

What would you say if someone were to come up to you and ask you if you would like to have a two-weeks’ trip to Paris with all expenses paid? You needn’t answer; I know what you would say. Well, that is about what happened to me. I tried for two years to get overseas. At long last my chance came, and when it did come it came with a bang. As I have told you, I was sent off in such a rush that I hardly had time to get my family home. Things happened in such a hurry that I was sure that I was being sent on some kind of a rush- order secret mission . . . secret orders, veiled movements, cloak- and-dagger activities, and all that sort of thing. When I hit Scotland and learned that I wasn’t even expected, it knocked some of the romance out of my adventure. And if I had had any notions of the importance of my mission left when I hit Paris, they would have been knocked for another loop.

When I called up the staff chaplain to inform him that I had now arrived and he could stop worrying, that everything was under control, that worthy gentleman nearly fell off his chair. He began to shoot questions at me. “Who are you? . . . When did you get here? . . . How did you get here? . . . Where are you?” These I answered, but when he asked, “Why did you come?” I looked around to be sure I was in the right place. The man I was reporting to, the man who was to determine my future overseas, the man who was to give me my assignments, hadn’t even known I was coming or why I had been sent! Well, that proved it. My new commanding officer hadn’t even known I was coming. That is how secret my orders were. Would I be understating the facts if I said that this cool and uncertain reception gave rise in me to grave apprehension? Well, it did. Seeing that no one at all was expecting me or knew what to do with me in this foreign land, I was tempted to climb back on the plane and go back home. Instead, I climbed on a jeep and was driven to the staff chaplain’s headquarters.

When I reported to him, he said, “We are mighty glad to see you. We weren’t notified that you were coming, but we will find a place for you. There are plenty of men over here who have had a tough time of it and-would like to be relieved. But it will take us some time to work out the transfers. In the meantime, put your things at my house and then spend your time as you like. You might be interested in a visit to Paris. Do whatever you like, come and go as you please, see all the sights of Paris, but report back here in ten days to see if we have anything for you.”

Now, can you imagine that! Ten days with nothing to do but to hobnob around Paris. I looked in my pocketbook and counted my money. Two thousand francs—about forty dollars. I thought that would be enough to do about anything I would like to do. I had been told that it was against military law to eat in any of the civilian cafes. That made it necessary for me to eat in the Red Cross hotels.

I was starting out to see Paris on forty dollars. When I went down to the subway (called the Metro in Paris), I learned that all American soldiers could ride the cars without paying a fare. I could ride anywhere in metropolitan Paris without spending a cent.

As soon as I got to town, I began looking for one of those Red-Cross-sponsored places to eat. It wasn’t difficult to find one, for the Red Cross had taken over about every hotel in the city. The one I went into was really a swanky place. From its marble halls and fine appointments I could tell that in peacetime it had been the stopping place for the world’s wealthy. I walked in as if I owned the place, and had a fine supper … for a total cost of twenty cents. I wasn’t getting rid of my money very fast.

I overheard on interesting conversation while I was eating supper. Since I had arrived so recently from the States, it struck me as rather funny. Four young lieutenants were sitting at a table near me. Perhaps they could tell that I was fresh from home, for they were talking loudly enough for me to hear what they were saying. It went something like this.

“No, the folks back home don’t know there is a war onl” one of them stated.

Another one agreed: “I should say not. All you can read about in the papers is strikes and demands for higher pay and less work.”

The third one added his opinion: “All they are interested in or care about is having a good time. Play, play, and more play— that is all that interests them.”

Just at that moment another lieutenant walked up to their table and said, “I missed my game of golf today. Any of you fellows care to go out to the club with me tomorrow for a game of golf?”

His question was answered by a chorus of yeses.

Incidentally, although these officers all had several ribbons on their tunics, I didn’t notice any combat stars.

While I was eating my supper, another chaplain joined me at the table. He was one of the eight other chaplains who had been with me ever since I had left the States. Together we mapped out a plan for seeing all the interesting sights of Paris in the ten days we had free. We got out one of the maps of the city that the Red Cross had supplied us with, and looked over the list of places recommended as having special interest. After some discussion we decided it would be best for us to go to Montmartre, a very high hill on the outskirts of Paris. From there we would be able to see nearly all of Paris and could decide what to see during the coming days. We would also have the opportunity of seeing the famous Cathedral of the Sacred Heart, which was situated at the top of this hill. That problem settled, we went into the Metro and went out to the foot of Montmartre.

After we got out of the Metro, we discovered that we would have to climb about a mile before we would be on top of Montmartre. This would not have been so bad if the street leading up the hill had been fairly straight. But it wandered in and out among the stores and houses, as if some meandering snake had laid it out. When we got into the valley between the houses, we couldn’t see the hill. To be sure we were still going in the right direction, I decided that here was as good a time as I would ever find to use my limited knowledge of French. I would ask some of the people we met on the streets if we were still going in the right direction. As we climbed the hill, we overtook two French girls who seemed to be going in the same direction that we were. I asked my fellow chaplain if he thought I could risk asking them the way to Montmartre without having them think that I was trying to flirt with them. He told me to go ahead since they probably would never know what I said, anyway. So, clearing my throat and mumbling a few practice words of French, I called to the girls. They both turned to me and said, “Yes?” only they said it in French.

Then I began the labored process of asking them if they could direct us to the top of the hill by the nearest street. It was quite a job. I floundered for words, made wild gestures with my hands, threw in a little Indian sign language for good measure, and even tried a little semaphoring. The girls stood staring blankly at me while I went through these gymnastics. I could see that I was getting nowhere fast. At length I turned to the other chaplain, resigned to failure. I said to him, “I don’t know what is wrong, but they don’t seem to understand me.”

As soon as I said that in English, one of these dear little French girls piped up, “Oh, you speak English very well. If you can ask me in English, maybe I can tell you what it is that you want to know.”

Honestly, I think if I hadn’t been bom an “old Southern Gentleman,” I would have strangled me a girl right then and there.

We did at last reach the top of Montmartre and it was a beautiful sight. From that spot, several hundred feet above Paris, we could look out and see that whole city. By using a map we could locate nearly all the famous buildings . . . Notre Dame, the Opera, the Tomb of Napoleon, the Arch of Triumph, the Eiffel Tower, and a number of other places. We spent about two hours up there, just looking at the great panorama of Paris below us.

Just as we were about ready to start back to Paris, we were startled by the squeaky honk of a jeep horn. Turning, we saw an American jeep driven by an American private. We stopped him and asked him how in the world he had ever gotten that jeep up there, as there were several sets of steps in the so- called streets.

“Oh,” he answered lightly, “I just drove right up the steps. I’m about ready to go back now. Would you like to ride or would you prefer to walk?”

We decided that we would rather ride, so we climbed into the jeep and the driver started down those long, winding, twisting, rough streets. When we came to the steps, he slowed down a little and bumped right on down them. If your hips are too big and you have been thinking of going on a diet, just give up the idea. I know a much quicker way of reducing. Just ride a few miles over cobblestone streets in a jeep. I guarantee that will take the flesh off.

The ten days’ free time in the beautiful and exciting French capital came to an end all too soon. One morning, while I was dressing to go into town again, the telephone rang. I answered it. The staff chaplain was calling to let us know that he wanted us to come to his office that day to receive our orders. The vacation was over. It was now time to start back to work. I broke the sad news to the other chaplains and we got ready to go to the chiefs office.

When we arrived there, we found several other chaplains already seated in the chiefs office. We learned that they were staff chaplains of the various commands that formed the United Strategic Air Forces in Europe. One of them was from the Ninth Service Command, one was from the Ninth Engineer Command, and two were from other commands. They were there trying to get additional chaplains assigned to their commands. Hie Army’s method of allowing personnel to return to the States under the point system had taken several of the long-term chaplains back to the United States. These command chaplains needed replacements and they had come to the chief in the hope that some of us could be assigned to them. When we came in, they gave us the once-over, each trying to pick the man that he wanted for his command. I felt like a horse on an auction block. Any moment I expected one of them to ask me to open my mouth so that he could check my teeth. After this examination the chief explained that before he made the assignments, he wanted to offer us the opportunity to volunteer, as some of the assignments were harder than others. Some of us were to be assigned to engineer battalions whose job it would be to build advance airfields. Since these units were slated for shipment to the Pacific, the chaplains assigned to them could expect a pretty rugged life, often being under enemy fire. Others were to be assigned to less hazardous and much more comfortable jobs as chaplains of service groups stationed at fixed bases. The chief explained that he wanted to give us the chance to select our own assignments so that if we selected rough assignments, he would be free from all responsibility. If we wanted to kick later, we wouldn’t have anybody to kick but ourselves.

When the chief got through explaining his plan, he announced that he was now ready to hear from volunteers. If we had been the raw, ignorant recruits we were when we came into the Army, we all would have jumped at the chance to volunteer for the hardest jobs. But we were a long way from that. All of us were men who had had at least two years of military service. During those two years we had learned a good bit about Army methods and run-arounds. One thing we all knew: A man was a plain fool if he volunteered for anything. So the chiefs invitation that we volunteer for these jobs fell on deaf ears. We sat there looking at him as if we had all just matriculated in a school for deaf mutes. If silence is golden, the monetary value of those next few moments would have amounted to thousands of dollars. We were afraid even to clear our throats or blow our noses. The slightest movement, we knew, would be accepted as a sign that one was volunteering. It was like being at an auction sale where the man who winks his eye or scratches his nose wins the booby prize.

The chief must have expected just such a response. At any rate, he showed no sign of disappointment that we didn’t all leap at the chance to volunteer. Assuming that there was no need of waiting any longer for one of us to commit himself, he

announced that he would assign part of us to the Ninth Service Command and part of us to the Ninth Engineer Command. The orders would be out that day and we would pick them up the next morning, he concluded, just before we took off for our respective places of assignment.