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During the time I was attached to the Biarritz American University, there was one experience — out of many — which was special. Of no importance to many perhaps but to me — after years of inevitable depredation of many of the things we’d taken for granted before the war, I longed to be able to buy an orange and perhaps a lemon too — in fact a whole bag of each…

15 miles or so from Biarritz lay the frontier to Spain a country where oranges and lemons grew — no ship had to brave enemy torpedoes to bring them to the Spaniards.

I made enquiries, confirmed the distance to that frontier; also found out that there was indeed a fruit and vegetable market — on Saturdays as I had heard.

I was determined to go there somehow. Army Jeeps were out of the question. It was prohibited to take them outside the University area.

Three soldier students said they would go with me if I could arrange transport. I made more enquiries. The only suggestion was the police. They had bicycles. They might have spare ones. They did. They were, of course, men’s bikes and, although this was OK for the boys, even with the saddle lowered to its fullest extent it was still high for me. However, I was determined to go, so we went. We took off our uniform jackets. Just in shirt and trousers we were less likely to be spotted.

What was 15 miles….? Well, it was a long way even though the road was fairly flat and hadn’t suffered too much from years of disrepair.

A short way before the frontier we could see a few people, looking busy and well occupied, standing around the barrier. They didn’t look very official but we were not at all sure they would let us through as they might know that it was strictly prohibited by the American Army for any of us to wander into Spain. They would certainly notice we weren’t Spanish! Then we spotted a large gap in a hedge about 20 years from that frontier. We dismounted, pushed our bikes alongside the hedge to the gap and walked into Spain.

We mingled with the crowd. Another world. There, in a prominent position, was a fruit and vegetable stall full of oranges and lemons. The first I’d seen for six years! I bought a kilo of oranges and 2 lemons.

We stayed a while, drank a glass of wine. One of us had the forethought to bring a few pesetas. Then across the market, we saw two American Jeeps — in the driving seats two American officers. We had all been caught in forbidden territory. I held my breath, approached one of them who I knew slightly, remarked how good it was to see oranges and lemons again. He agreed, smiled. We were not only saved but we were given a lift home on the Jeeps, our bikes piled on the back, driving at great speed to Biarritz once more.

15 miles would have been hard for all of us. I, for one, had found my saddle very high. But we had our oranges and lemons.

Deposited outside my hotel I took an orange from my bag, tore off the peel, and ate it. It tasted wonderful.

Angela Vivian

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