Victory in Europe

Heidelberg, Mosbach, Adelsheim, Kunzelsau, and many other cities lay in our forward path. Finally, we stopped at a place which became kind of permanent. I do not remember the name of the place. While we were at this place, the general ordered Major Adams and me to go to Dijon, France, for a rest cure. I had my driver follow the major’s jeep. It was a two-day trip. We stayed overnight in a French hotel. We arrived in Dijon the afternoon of May 4, 1945. We checked in at the biggest hotel in town. There were about 10 rooms to the floor. The toilet was at the end of the hall. There must have been about 15 stories to that hotel, but only one toilet per floor.

However, in every room there was a strange contraption that resembled a toilet with no seat. It was a porcelain structure with a rounded cylindrical protrusion in the center, which had holes in it. When the water was turned on, it poured out of these holes like a fountain and pretty too. No doubt many a French gentleman’s mistresses was well served by that gadget. One solider told me it was a drinking fountain, another said he washed his feet in it. I’m not going to say how I used it.

The bed in the hotel was comfortable and I got a good night’s sleep. The next day I looked the town over. Nothing special. Al the locals spoke a foreign language. It was beginning to look like a perfect place for a rest cure. Then, on May 5^th about 7:00pm, I could hear a lot of noise coming from the street. I asked an American solider what was going on. He said it was VE Day (Victory in Europe). (Hostilities ceased on May 5; the Germans signed the surrender, May 7^th; President Truman proclaimed May 8^th the official VE Day in the U.S.)

The war in Europe was over. I went out in the street to join the natives. I said something to a Frenchman standing next to me. He answered but neither of us could understand the other. He then indicated to me to stay right where I was, and he would be right back. He ran off but soon returned with a young French dental student who could speak both English and French. He became our interpreter.

The person to whom I was originally talking was Monsieur Rowland, postmaster of Dijon, and a fine French gentleman. The interpreter was Monsieur Jean Moriaux, a French dental student. Monsieur Rowland entertained us at his home. We drank and toasted everything you can think of especially, “Viva La France!” Here I became acquainted with the liqueur called, “schnapps” (a potato spirit). It is the hottest drink I ever tasted. Ive never tried it since.

Monsieur Rowland said he personally wanted to thank me by letter for helping the French people save France from the Germans. Also, he was going to get it dated that day. Monsieur Rowland also had Jean Moriaux meet me to escort me and my friend, the major, to dinner.

At the prearranged time, Monsieur Jean Moriaux met us at the hotel entrance with two spare bicycles. I guess we pedaled a mile or two to a home where we were to have dinner. I enjoyed the bicycle ride. Upon arrival, we were introduced to the lady of the house. She was the wife of a French general who was at the time away from home and had been fighting in the war. We also greeted Monsieur Rowland who presented me with his personal letter of gratitude. I thanked him and have the letter to this day.

We met several French ladies and men who were there. I guess there were 16-20 guests to present. This was all a new experience to me. The only one I could talk to was Jean, but he wasn’t seated near me. So, I just smiled and nodded the evening through.

At dinner we were seated at a long, rectangular table. Bottles of wine were spaced along the length of the table. There was about a bottle for each two at dinner. The first course was asparagus. Trouble was, I didn’t realize it was the first course. After helping myself to several stalks dipped in white sauce, I began to think I would starve on this slim dinner, so I helped myself to a few more stalks. But then, after I was satiated on asparagus, came another dish. This was followed by yet another dish, etc. until all conventional courses has been served, I ate and ate until I thought I was going to bust. Finally, the meal ended, and I lived through it. Late in the evening, we pedaled back to the hotel where Jean left us saying that he’d see us again on the morrow.

The next day, May 7, 1945, we again went to the general’s house for a continuation of the V-E Day celebration. This was to be our last day in Dijon. This time the celebration consisted of wine, hor d’oeuvres, and dancing. The dance was in the garage behind the house. The garage had a concrete floor, and the French dance music was played on a phonograph. After the dance had gone on about a half hour. The Frenchmen called me outside for a conference. They wanted to give me a prize for being the best dancer because I was the honored guest. I laughed but objected to receiving the prize. I insisted that the prize be given to the best dancer, which they did. They just didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Late that night, we returned to the hotel and prepared to return to the 63^rd.

Really, we needed to get rested up after our rest cure. Those rest cures sure are rough on one’s digestive tract, physical well-being, and general all round alert conditions. After a week of recuperation, I back to my feisty self. The war in Europe was over. As far as I was concerned, I was ready to go home. But the army wasn’t quite ready to release me, yet.

Meanwhile, General McGaw decided to visit an area in Bavaria, a province of Germany adjacent to the Alps Mountains. There, the 7^th Field Artillery Observation Battalion was presently located. The general was to give a farewell address to the troops of the seventh. He invited me to go along since we both were past members of the seventh.

We flew there in separate planes. I had the same pilot who had flown me on the observation flights. It was good weather. The trip was about 200 miles. We followed a highway to our destination. We wanted to be sure we were going in the correct direction.

In the middle of the day. Snow began to fall. It snowed harder and harder until visibility became very limited. We decided to land at the first airport we spotted. It wasn’t long before we were going the ground at the U.S. Army air strip. We tried to radio the general to report our location but couldn’t contact him. We spend the night in the hangar and continued our flight the next day. As we flew along there suddenly appeared the gigantic mass of the Bavarian Alps. They were awesomely beautiful, huge, and formidable. Their peaks were covered with now, silent and forbidding, a guard for Austria. It was without doubt the most magnificent sight I have ever beheld.  (The described area was not far from Berchtesgaden, the site of Hitler’s chalet where he spent his last days just before the war ceased.)

We continued our flight and landed on an air strip on a high plateau in the middle of those mountains. Almost as soon as we landed, a large black limousine pulled up beside the plane. The driver asked, “Are you Captain Brown?” When I answered yes, he said that the general had sent him to deliver Brown to the general. I loaded up, and away we sped. I was driven to the general at a fantastic rate of speed, switching around the treacherous roads, through tunnels, over the high bridges. Finally, we crossed an open and level grassed area coming to a stop not more than a few yards from General McGaw himself.

I got out of the car. General McGaw came up to me, put his hands on my shoulders, and kissed me on each cheek as the French do when presenting the Croix de Guerre.

The next day general McGraw gave his farewell speech to the troops of the 7^th Field Artillery Battalion. He mentioned my name as a valued member of his command, gave me a copy of his speech which has somewhere been lost. I met several comrades of the 7^th. It turned out to be a fulfilling occasion. The following day I returned to my home base, somewhere in Germany.

Now, there was a period of waiting. During this time someone told me that my pilot has been killed. He has found a German fighter plane which needed a few repairs. He worked on it until he got it in flying shape. He took off for a flight and in no time, at all, ran straight into the side of one of the Alps. He always was the happiest when flying a plane, but this time it was snake eyes. I sure hope there are planes in heaven; this guy lived, ate, and slept planes.