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The following story appears courtesy of and with thanks to Walter and Bill McElvain.

Sunday, Sept. 17, 1944 .........The landing at the French port inaugurated a series of experiences which gave me my first view of this great country and its people. We were whisked through the city, its once gay streets practically deserted, many buildings in ruins, others only partially destroyed. Then, still in GI trucks, out from the city and in to the countryside, over narrow, winding roads, partially paved but scarcely room for two vehicles to pass. The countryside is beautifully green, a symbol to the industry of the hard-working peasants who toil from dawn to dusk over their few acres of land. Most of the workers on the farms were women, old men, boys, and girls. As we passed each settlement, chateau, or village, the people would line the road on either side and toss us apples, flowers, grapes, and the like, hold up their fingers in the "V" signal and cry "Bon Jour", the French greeting. We would toss out some cigarettes or candy. They are especially crazy about the cigarette, which they call "cigareet", even the women and small kids. It seems that smokes are impossible to get over here, and the American brands, when obtainable, sell for about four bucks a carton. While on the subject, I will say that the people of the country seemed more friendly to us that those of the city, where most of the destruction occurred. We passed through many villages, and in each one it was the same story, nearly every building hit and many in utter ruins. And, sad to relate, I have not yet seen a church which has not felt the wrath of war. You could not blame these people for distrusting strangers, whoever they might be, or for having nothing to do with them. For, of course, Germans took refuge in these buildings and American ammunition had to blast them out. But that isn't much consolation to the poor French, I fear. This picturesque country is living much in the past. It is about three parts 16th century and one part 20th century. Motor cars are rarely seen. The entire populace travels either on foot, by bicycle, or by mule and cart or horse and cart. The people wear wooden shoes and are a colorful lot as they clack their ways down the street. And for the most part, the Frenchman is reticent with strangers. He prefers to keep to himself for experience has taught him that new people auger nothing but evil for him. He is bewildered by the intoxicating web that fortune has spun around him, while he sat hopelessly on the side. We have a pleasant bivouac spot in an interesting part of France. We have no fear of battle, and such. Our biggest worry right now are the anti-personnel mines lurking in every hedge, shrub, and ditch, or possibly the enemy snipers who hang around for no good .................................................. October 9, 1944....................................... .......We have come across several German pillboxes, fortifications dug deep into the ground. Lumber is a critical item for us, but the ammunition boxes left by the fleeing Nazis have helped us to a great extent. Of course, we had to take the shells out of them, but it was the wood we wanted. I saw four prisoners of war today, and if two of them were more than 15 years old, I'm an old man with gray whiskers........................................... October 18, 1944....................................... It is now possible for me to tell you that I have visited Cherbourg, Valognes, and most of the Normandy Peninsula. It is quite devastated by war, probably the most war wrecked section of France. I have visited the outskirts of Paris, and though I wasn't inside the French capital, I was close enough to it to see the Eiffel Tower. The Paris section is very beautiful. As the saying goes, Paris is not France. I have also visited another beautiful city -- LeMans. I have visited Bar Le Duc. We have found the French people quite hospitable in most places, often showering us with apples, bread, and offering us wine and cognac. This is just about the limit of what I can tell you now. This place is a terrible mess. Mud and rain. And such mud. It is impossible for the people at home to realize the obstacles that confront the soldier over here ....................... Tuesday, October 31................................. I haven't told you about Midge, otherwise known as Axis Sally, yet. She comes on the air from Berlin, apparently, each evening, and directs her remarks to all the Americans in the European theatre of Operations. Usually she starts off with some nice little remarks about how nice it would be to come home and continuing by wondering what "your best girl" is doing tonight. "Probably out with one of those 4-F-s" she hints. It goes along this vein for some time, the extremely sweet voiced lady with the American accent (she formerly ran a beauty parlor in Boston) telling the boys how useless it is to be over here when they could be back home around a fire enjoying themselves. Then she'll give a report on a bunch of our ships being sunk and lives lost and end up with some very good recordings by some of America's best bands. Her programs are enjoyed to the fullest but not for the reason that Midge hopes. This is only one of the many Axis propaganda programs which we receive on our radios ................................ November 4, 1944 ................................... And now I must tell you that if you hear any reports from the Germans that this outfit has been annihilated, don't you believe it. It's just another false bit of propaganda which the Nazis are busy spreading around. We have had in our company no one killed and only a few injured (these from accidents). But we do enjoy listening to the wild claims of the opposition, though, for we must have our humor even in this grim business. We have had quite a few enemy air raids, but our anti-aircraft accounted for quite a few of the Jerries. There wasn't much left of those planes after they once hit terra firma. After you once hit the bed, you aren't so cold (unless you have to get up in the night) for you have four blankets to keep you warm and dry. By this time I am used to the artillery barrages which last all through the night. The first few nights I didn't get much sleep, but now all that banging around outside is no more than the howling of the winds to me ............ Saturday, November 25, 1944........................ Now that it has been officially announced that we are in action, you should be able to follow our activities in the daily press. It is no secret, and you may tell your friends anything you know. We've been getting a merry time from the enemy artillery for the past two nights, and I can tell you I was plenty scared. So was everyone else. You can tell the approach of a shell by a whishing sound as it moves through the air, but the deadly mortar gives no warning. We are gradually becoming accustomed to the shelling, but I still jump when one of our own big guns hits the air .............. W. W.

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