大象传媒

'This story was submitted to the People's War site by Rick Allden of the CSV 大象传媒 Coventry and Warwickshire Action Desk on behalf of Joyce O'Kane and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions'.

鈥淥verpaid, over sexed, over here鈥�, one of the best-known and least scurrilous criticisms of the Americans, our new wartime partners. This was patently unfair. Certainly they were paid a great deal more than our British troops. Their 鈥淧.X.鈥� (I never found out the origin of the initials) provided them with food unobtainable here. It also stocked nylons, lipsticks and perfume for their girlfriends. These American boys could hardly be blamed for what we regarded as the over-generous treatment by their own country. Some boys came from remote country areas, and were often ill at ease as well as home sick.

Possibly because of the general disapproval, I was reluctant to meet Americans, but through a variety of circumstances (my mother was on the Red Cross hospitality committee) I made the acquaintance of several, from very different backgrounds. The first, a quiet American of Italian decent, I met at a church fete in the sleepy village of Dunster, in Somerset. Joe was a private in their medical corps and had been a first year medical student. Unexpectedly, and without any fuss, we fell in love. It wasn鈥檛 to last because after a visit to the Oratory in Birmingham Joe, a devout Catholic, ceased to refer to his hopes of marriage. The subject of religion was never mentioned again and our romance ended as quietly as it had begun. Ironically, many years later I was married to a Southern Irish Catholic. My Scottish Presbyterian parents did not approve.

On the same holiday in Somerset, I met a wild young farmer from the Deep South. He had to me, the unlikely name of Marion. Our mutual love of horses brought us together. One night, whilst phoning me from a call box, I heard a dreadful commotion and said 鈥漎ou sound as if you have a horse in the phone box鈥�. I was half right, as the reluctant animal was halfway in! Unable to live without his beloved horse, he had bought one and had his Western saddle with its high pommel, sent from home. I don鈥檛 think I had met anyone so full of life. Life, which was extinguished when, surrounded by the enemy, he continued firing his bazooka with his expected, unreasonable courage, until he was overwhelmed.

A much more mature group of Americans came to a dinner 鈥減arty鈥� (probably dried egg omelette and a concocted soup). They were all doctors, which delighted my father who had been a regular army officer in the R.A.M.C. I can still see the impressive row of smart hats, decorated with the eagle and many stars, sitting on the black carved oak chest in our hall. The Americans were all specialists, highly qualified in the treatment of tropical diseases. On their way to Burma their ship, with her precious cargo, went down. There were no survivors.

There were however lighter moments. One handsome blond American sang, 鈥淢oonlight becomes you, it goes with your hair鈥� as he kissed me goodnight. This was a first; I had never been serenaded before. However I wasn鈥檛 carried away, he was about thirty and at that advanced age I assumed that he must be a married man!

The attraction of the Americans was not so much the made to measure uniforms, the gifts of food and cosmetics, but the fact that they seemed to be more demonstrative, more open, and more considerate to women than their British counterparts. Not all relationships worked out. Many mistaken G.I. brides were confronted, on landing in the U.S.A, with a situation far removed from the promised dream.

This story was donated to the People鈥檚 War website by Joyce O'Kane, of the Leam Writers. If you would like to find out more about Leam Writers call 0845 900 5 300.

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