Excerpts from her letters home, 1944-45
May 18, 1945
Everything is in such a state of flux, nobody knows which end is up or
where they're going next and all we talk about are points, who's going
to the CBI, who's going home and what will the Red Cross do with us. Every
G.I. has spend the last few days counting and counting their accumulated
points and the first question in a conversation is "How are you coming
on points?" Food has taken a back seat.
May 28, 1945
But I am anxious to get into Germany and the only thing that is holding
me back is Frank, who will be leaving soon - and not for home. We live
on rumors and if rumors were food, we'd be very fat. If I haven't told
you about him, he a 1st Lieut. of the ATC (which means Ducks), landed
in France on D-Day and has been here ever since. We have good times together
and after three months, he's a nice habit. I met him the second night
I was in LeHavre and except for two weeks in Marseilles and one when he
went to Germany, he's been my steady diet. So much for that...
June 4, 1945
LeHavre is getting tidied up - PW's are piling rubble and a group of little
Frenchmen have been working for two months on the road below our house...
On the day after V-E day, the owner of this house (who hasn't been in
it since the day the Germans' ordered him out) appeared, thinking in his
straight-form Gaelic way, that since la guerre finie, we were finie too.
I think the reason the natives cheered us so lustily at the V-E day parade
was because they thought we were marching straight for the boat.
Fire Service marching in the V-E day parade.
Photo by, Johnstown, North Wales. May
July 8, 1945
Our new recruits are a bunch of spoiled brats. While we swooned over hot
water and mattresses and somebody to cook doughnuts for us, they growl
during their spare time and object to working in the rain. Meanwhile,
troops are still pouring out of this part and will be for some time to
come, as you probably know if you have any conception of the size of this
July 22 and 23, 1945
I'm going to Paris again on Wednesday. Do you remember Bernie from Barrow-in-Furness?
He's in Paris awaiting shipment home. Something is wrong with his knee
and so I'm meeting him at 2:30 at the Hotel Normandy for a farewell get-together.
I can't believe it, but it's been almost seven months since we said goodbye
to them on a snowy night in Barrow. They were going to France and once
more, we were packing up the Clubmobile and our footlockers...