Christmas in Paris during WWII
646
The end of the War in Europe found me, a
19-year-old infantryman, in a hospital in the city of Eberbach,
Germany. After all the war horrors I had escaped I was confined for a
simple ruptured appendix. At the time, I regretted that convalescence
deeply because my division was preparing to go home to the States, the
first combat division to return from Europe. My regret would have been
tempered had I realized that, after a short leave, our division would
also be the first from Europe to be sent to the Pacific theatre of war
to join the operations against Japan. The
day before my division started moving, the Colonel commanding the
hospital came to tell me I would be picked up the following morning by
ambulance and would travel in the hospital ward of the ship carrying my
regiment. It was a relief to know I could stay with what had been my
home and family for the next 18 months. The following morning, after
bathing me and allowing me to shave, the nurses smilingly provided me
with a new uniform. They wished me a safe trip home and told me they
were only jealous they too could not be so lucky. Hour after hour, I
sat waiting to be collected by our division’s medical unit. The
day passed slowly and I became anxious. Suddenly, the Colonel, who had
brought the good news of my going home arrived and told me I was not
going home, that I would have to stay at the hospital until I was
released into the Replacement Depot System, which would assign me to
another unit. No reason for this change was ever given, a typical army
snafu, which to this day leaves me with no one to blame for this
wrenching news, or to thank for the wonderful opportunity it ultimately
provided, even though I did miss my division’s ticker-tape parade down
Broadway. Ultimately, I would
not have missed my remaining time in Europe for that or any other
parade. But, for the rest of that day, in spite of my attempts to be
brave, I sat on my hospital cot with tears running down my cheeks. I
was losing all I had in my immediate world in the way of family plus
all my personal possessions, except for my writing kit, which had been
placed on my stretcher when I went to the hospital. Finally discharged
from the hospital, I was assigned to a Replacement Depot in Worms,
Germany for a few days. There I met up with several others from my
company who had been wounded or reassigned prior to our division’s
return to the States. This was a short stay. Soon, I found myself among
a large group sent by truck from Worms to the home of the famous
Richard Wagner at Beyruth, Germany, quite near the border with
Czechoslovakia. This was another short stay, and we were housed in
buildings on Wagner’s grounds. Soon
after, a group of us were loaded on a train, but we were never told
where we were going. It was not until after seven long days on the
train that we sighted the Eiffel Tower from a railway siding to the
east of Paris. My hopes rose as I contemplated finding a camp near this
civilized city. Our train unloaded us at Etampes, quite near Paris and
the palace at Fontainbleau. Etampes was yet another temporary home,
where some of us were put to work processing service records of
soldiers being sent to various units in Europe, the Pacific, or back to
the States for reassignment or discharge. One of my new friends and I
asked to be assigned to a permanent unit. We wanted to find a new home
in that vast mass of units scattered all over the continent. To our
surprise, we were sent to a former department store in Paris, an
immense building serving as a temporary shelter for service men on
leave and those waiting to be assigned in the area. We were told we
would be assigned to a unit in the Paris region on the following day,
But we still had no idea where we were going to be located or what we
would be doing. The following
morning we checked with those mighty beings in charge of assignments.
We were sent to one of several trucks awaiting loading outside the
department store and waited for the truck’s departure. My first trip up
the Champs Elysées was in the back of a 2-½-ton army truck that, much
to our delight, circled halfway around the Arc de Triomphe and
proceeded down the Avenue de la Grand Armie. From that point onward, we
toured the suburbs of that great and most beautiful city. Eventually,
the truck stopped. Six of us were let out in front of a walled compound
that we mistook for a former German compound; thankfully, it was not!
The buildings turned out to be those of a Catholic orphanage, of which
part had been converted into a very useful Army post. The nuns and
orphans had moved into three buildings separated from the rest of the
compound by a tall hedge. The nuns not only took care of the orphans
but also taught all the local children at the religious school, housed
in one of the buildings our Army had kindly left to its original
purpose. The unit to which we
were assigned was the 6817th Special Service Unit, which serviced all
the greater and lesser stars of stage, screen, and radio, who were
either in the service or sent overseas by the USO to entertain the
troops. It was a dream assignment! I was assigned as the Mess Sergeant,
and one of my new friends was assigned as the supply sergeant. The
world was ours! We had passes to Paris at all times, vehicles to take
us there and back, and the free rail travel provided for all U.S.
servicemen on the Métro in Paris. We were stationed in Chatou, a suburb
of Paris. My crew and I were housed in one of the orphanage buildings;
the officers, some enlisted men, and the USO personnel were housed in
nearby mansions, which had housed German officers not long before. I
was responsible for supervising the feeding of up to 1,500 people a day
in three dining rooms: one for officers and USO personnel and two large
halls for…
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The end of the War in Europe found me, a
19-year-old infantryman, in a hospital in the city of Eberbach,
Germany. After all the war horrors I had escaped I was confined for a
simple ruptured appendix. At the time, I regretted that convalescence
deeply because my division was preparing to go home to the States, the
first combat division to return from Europe. My regret would have been
tempered had I realized that, after a short leave, our division would
also be the first from Europe to be sent to the Pacific theatre of war
to join the operations against Japan.
19-year-old infantryman, in a hospital in the city of Eberbach,
Germany. After all the war horrors I had escaped I was confined for a
simple ruptured appendix. At the time, I regretted that convalescence
deeply because my division was preparing to go home to the States, the
first combat division to return from Europe. My regret would have been
tempered had I realized that, after a short leave, our division would
also be the first from Europe to be sent to the Pacific theatre of war
to join the operations against Japan.
The
day before my division started moving, the Colonel commanding the
hospital came to tell me I would be picked up the following morning by
ambulance and would travel in the hospital ward of the ship carrying my
regiment. It was a relief to know I could stay with what had been my
home and family for the next 18 months. The following morning, after
bathing me and allowing me to shave, the nurses smilingly provided me
with a new uniform. They wished me a safe trip home and told me they
were only jealous they too could not be so lucky. Hour after hour, I
sat waiting to be collected by our division’s medical unit.
day before my division started moving, the Colonel commanding the
hospital came to tell me I would be picked up the following morning by
ambulance and would travel in the hospital ward of the ship carrying my
regiment. It was a relief to know I could stay with what had been my
home and family for the next 18 months. The following morning, after
bathing me and allowing me to shave, the nurses smilingly provided me
with a new uniform. They wished me a safe trip home and told me they
were only jealous they too could not be so lucky. Hour after hour, I
sat waiting to be collected by our division’s medical unit.
The
day passed slowly and I became anxious. Suddenly, the Colonel, who had
brought the good news of my going home arrived and told me I was not
going home, that I would have to stay at the hospital until I was
released into the Replacement Depot System, which would assign me to
another unit. No reason for this change was ever given, a typical army
snafu, which to this day leaves me with no one to blame for this
wrenching news, or to thank for the wonderful opportunity it ultimately
provided, even though I did miss my division’s ticker-tape parade down
Broadway.
day passed slowly and I became anxious. Suddenly, the Colonel, who had
brought the good news of my going home arrived and told me I was not
going home, that I would have to stay at the hospital until I was
released into the Replacement Depot System, which would assign me to
another unit. No reason for this change was ever given, a typical army
snafu, which to this day leaves me with no one to blame for this
wrenching news, or to thank for the wonderful opportunity it ultimately
provided, even though I did miss my division’s ticker-tape parade down
Broadway.
Ultimately, I would
not have missed my remaining time in Europe for that or any other
parade. But, for the rest of that day, in spite of my attempts to be
brave, I sat on my hospital cot with tears running down my cheeks. I
was losing all I had in my immediate world in the way of family plus
all my personal possessions, except for my writing kit, which had been
placed on my stretcher when I went to the hospital. Finally discharged
from the hospital, I was assigned to a Replacement Depot in Worms,
Germany for a few days. There I met up with several others from my
company who had been wounded or reassigned prior to our division’s
return to the States. This was a short stay. Soon, I found myself among
a large group sent by truck from Worms to the home of the famous
Richard Wagner at Beyruth, Germany, quite near the border with
Czechoslovakia. This was another short stay, and we were housed in
buildings on Wagner’s grounds.
not have missed my remaining time in Europe for that or any other
parade. But, for the rest of that day, in spite of my attempts to be
brave, I sat on my hospital cot with tears running down my cheeks. I
was losing all I had in my immediate world in the way of family plus
all my personal possessions, except for my writing kit, which had been
placed on my stretcher when I went to the hospital. Finally discharged
from the hospital, I was assigned to a Replacement Depot in Worms,
Germany for a few days. There I met up with several others from my
company who had been wounded or reassigned prior to our division’s
return to the States. This was a short stay. Soon, I found myself among
a large group sent by truck from Worms to the home of the famous
Richard Wagner at Beyruth, Germany, quite near the border with
Czechoslovakia. This was another short stay, and we were housed in
buildings on Wagner’s grounds.
Soon
after, a group of us were loaded on a train, but we were never told
where we were going. It was not until after seven long days on the
train that we sighted the Eiffel Tower from a railway siding to the
east of Paris. My hopes rose as I contemplated finding a camp near this
civilized city. Our train unloaded us at Etampes, quite near Paris and
the palace at Fontainbleau. Etampes was yet another temporary home,
where some of us were put to work processing service records of
soldiers being sent to various units in Europe, the Pacific, or back to
the States for reassignment or discharge. One of my new friends and I
asked to be assigned to a permanent unit. We wanted to find a new home
in that vast mass of units scattered all over the continent. To our
surprise, we were sent to a former department store in Paris, an
immense building serving as a temporary shelter for service men on
leave and those waiting to be assigned in the area. We were told we
would be assigned to a unit in the Paris region on the following day,
But we still had no idea where we were going to be located or what we
would be doing.
after, a group of us were loaded on a train, but we were never told
where we were going. It was not until after seven long days on the
train that we sighted the Eiffel Tower from a railway siding to the
east of Paris. My hopes rose as I contemplated finding a camp near this
civilized city. Our train unloaded us at Etampes, quite near Paris and
the palace at Fontainbleau. Etampes was yet another temporary home,
where some of us were put to work processing service records of
soldiers being sent to various units in Europe, the Pacific, or back to
the States for reassignment or discharge. One of my new friends and I
asked to be assigned to a permanent unit. We wanted to find a new home
in that vast mass of units scattered all over the continent. To our
surprise, we were sent to a former department store in Paris, an
immense building serving as a temporary shelter for service men on
leave and those waiting to be assigned in the area. We were told we
would be assigned to a unit in the Paris region on the following day,
But we still had no idea where we were going to be located or what we
would be doing.
The following
morning we checked with those mighty beings in charge of assignments.
We were sent to one of several trucks awaiting loading outside the
department store and waited for the truck’s departure. My first trip up
the Champs Elysées was in the back of a 2-½-ton army truck that, much
to our delight, circled halfway around the Arc de Triomphe and
proceeded down the Avenue de la Grand Armie. From that point onward, we
toured the suburbs of that great and most beautiful city. Eventually,
the truck stopped. Six of us were let out in front of a walled compound
that we mistook for a former German compound; thankfully, it was not!
The buildings turned out to be those of a Catholic orphanage, of which
part had been converted into a very useful Army post. The nuns and
orphans had moved into three buildings separated from the rest of the
compound by a tall hedge. The nuns not only took care of the orphans
but also taught all the local children at the religious school, housed
in one of the buildings our Army had kindly left to its original
purpose.
morning we checked with those mighty beings in charge of assignments.
We were sent to one of several trucks awaiting loading outside the
department store and waited for the truck’s departure. My first trip up
the Champs Elysées was in the back of a 2-½-ton army truck that, much
to our delight, circled halfway around the Arc de Triomphe and
proceeded down the Avenue de la Grand Armie. From that point onward, we
toured the suburbs of that great and most beautiful city. Eventually,
the truck stopped. Six of us were let out in front of a walled compound
that we mistook for a former German compound; thankfully, it was not!
The buildings turned out to be those of a Catholic orphanage, of which
part had been converted into a very useful Army post. The nuns and
orphans had moved into three buildings separated from the rest of the
compound by a tall hedge. The nuns not only took care of the orphans
but also taught all the local children at the religious school, housed
in one of the buildings our Army had kindly left to its original
purpose.
The unit to which we
were assigned was the 6817th Special Service Unit, which serviced all
the greater and lesser stars of stage, screen, and radio, who were
either in the service or sent overseas by the USO to entertain the
troops. It was a dream assignment! I was assigned as the Mess Sergeant,
and one of my new friends was assigned as the supply sergeant. The
world was ours! We had passes to Paris at all times, vehicles to take
us there and back, and the free rail travel provided for all U.S.
servicemen on the Métro in Paris. We were stationed in Chatou, a suburb
of Paris. My crew and I were housed in one of the orphanage buildings;
the officers, some enlisted men, and the USO personnel were housed in
nearby mansions, which had housed German officers not long before. I
was responsible for supervising the feeding of up to 1,500 people a day
in three dining rooms: one for officers and USO personnel and two large
halls for enlisted men. The enlisted-personnel dining rooms were much
nicer: very large, elegant rooms with crystal chandeliers and two large
wall mirrors on each side, mounted above false mantelpieces. Being
stationed in an orphanage had its responsibilities as well as nice
accommodations.
were assigned was the 6817th Special Service Unit, which serviced all
the greater and lesser stars of stage, screen, and radio, who were
either in the service or sent overseas by the USO to entertain the
troops. It was a dream assignment! I was assigned as the Mess Sergeant,
and one of my new friends was assigned as the supply sergeant. The
world was ours! We had passes to Paris at all times, vehicles to take
us there and back, and the free rail travel provided for all U.S.
servicemen on the Métro in Paris. We were stationed in Chatou, a suburb
of Paris. My crew and I were housed in one of the orphanage buildings;
the officers, some enlisted men, and the USO personnel were housed in
nearby mansions, which had housed German officers not long before. I
was responsible for supervising the feeding of up to 1,500 people a day
in three dining rooms: one for officers and USO personnel and two large
halls for enlisted men. The enlisted-personnel dining rooms were much
nicer: very large, elegant rooms with crystal chandeliers and two large
wall mirrors on each side, mounted above false mantelpieces. Being
stationed in an orphanage had its responsibilities as well as nice
accommodations.
Each evening
after dinner, we met two nuns at the backdoor of the kitchen. They
waited with a child’s wagon, which we loaded with leftover food and
special tidbits, such as butter, flour, sugar, coffee, and lard. They
would patiently pull the wagon through an opening in the huge hedge and
across the grounds to their part of the compound. Without this extra
food, it would have been impossible for them to feed the orphans and
provide school lunch to the local children.
after dinner, we met two nuns at the backdoor of the kitchen. They
waited with a child’s wagon, which we loaded with leftover food and
special tidbits, such as butter, flour, sugar, coffee, and lard. They
would patiently pull the wagon through an opening in the huge hedge and
across the grounds to their part of the compound. Without this extra
food, it would have been impossible for them to feed the orphans and
provide school lunch to the local children.
As
Christmas approached, we began to plan a party for all these children
as well as those of our civilian employees. At the time, each of the
military personnel and the USO people were receiving eight candy bars a
week. We posted a sign asking them all to give part of their ration as
gifts to the children at our party. Generosity soon filled containers
with enough candy to give the entire population of Chatou a monstrous
stomachache. Candy sent to us included thousands of rolls of colored
Lifesavers, which, for some reason, were leftover in the PX. The chefs
made up enough cakes and cookies to feed everyone, and I arranged for a
local company to produce ice cream for all—we furnished ingredients for
the ice cream and the company produced the finished product. We paid
both in cash and with an excess of ingredients from which the company
could skim what they considered an unnoticeable quantity of the
powdered milk, powdered eggs, sugar, and vanilla. This, of course, we
factored into our calculations, knowing Louie, the ice cream maker, as
we did. Our civilian waitresses pitched in and made packets of candy
bars for each child.
Christmas approached, we began to plan a party for all these children
as well as those of our civilian employees. At the time, each of the
military personnel and the USO people were receiving eight candy bars a
week. We posted a sign asking them all to give part of their ration as
gifts to the children at our party. Generosity soon filled containers
with enough candy to give the entire population of Chatou a monstrous
stomachache. Candy sent to us included thousands of rolls of colored
Lifesavers, which, for some reason, were leftover in the PX. The chefs
made up enough cakes and cookies to feed everyone, and I arranged for a
local company to produce ice cream for all—we furnished ingredients for
the ice cream and the company produced the finished product. We paid
both in cash and with an excess of ingredients from which the company
could skim what they considered an unnoticeable quantity of the
powdered milk, powdered eggs, sugar, and vanilla. This, of course, we
factored into our calculations, knowing Louie, the ice cream maker, as
we did. Our civilian waitresses pitched in and made packets of candy
bars for each child.
We used
tape on the four huge mirrors in one hall to create images of small,
paned windows. We put the finishing touches on that holiday decoration
by mixing flour and water into paste and using it to glue cotton to the
lower portions of the panes, giving the effect of wind-blown snow piled
on window frames. It really began to look Christmasy. White tablecloths
and the crystal chandeliers, now containing low-watt bulbs, nearly
finished the picture. What was lacking was a Christmas tree. Where were
we to find a suitable tree?
tape on the four huge mirrors in one hall to create images of small,
paned windows. We put the finishing touches on that holiday decoration
by mixing flour and water into paste and using it to glue cotton to the
lower portions of the panes, giving the effect of wind-blown snow piled
on window frames. It really began to look Christmasy. White tablecloths
and the crystal chandeliers, now containing low-watt bulbs, nearly
finished the picture. What was lacking was a Christmas tree. Where were
we to find a suitable tree?
There
were woods around, so we organized a group of five to get that TREE.
Taking a meat cleaver from the kitchen, no axes being handy, we took
one of our trucks and headed toward Versailles, recalling several woods
along that route. We saw a few stands of trees, but none of them seemed
suitable. Soon, we were within sight of the Palace, and there on the
Palace grounds, about 50 feet from the edge of the road, was a stand of
exquisite trees. The pines were about 15 feet tall, perfectly shaped,
and part of the nursery that produced trees and plants for the Palace
gardens. OUR tree was the third one in the second row of the group.
About 25 gardeners were working roughly 100 yards from the trees. I
jumped from the truck and ran toward our tree. At the first blow of the
cleaver, the gardeners started running toward me yelling profanities
and waving various deadly looking garden implements. Quickly cutting
the tree and dragging it behind me to the road, I threw the cut end to
the men in the already moving truck and caught the hands reaching for
me. No gangsters ever made a better getaway.
were woods around, so we organized a group of five to get that TREE.
Taking a meat cleaver from the kitchen, no axes being handy, we took
one of our trucks and headed toward Versailles, recalling several woods
along that route. We saw a few stands of trees, but none of them seemed
suitable. Soon, we were within sight of the Palace, and there on the
Palace grounds, about 50 feet from the edge of the road, was a stand of
exquisite trees. The pines were about 15 feet tall, perfectly shaped,
and part of the nursery that produced trees and plants for the Palace
gardens. OUR tree was the third one in the second row of the group.
About 25 gardeners were working roughly 100 yards from the trees. I
jumped from the truck and ran toward our tree. At the first blow of the
cleaver, the gardeners started running toward me yelling profanities
and waving various deadly looking garden implements. Quickly cutting
the tree and dragging it behind me to the road, I threw the cut end to
the men in the already moving truck and caught the hands reaching for
me. No gangsters ever made a better getaway.
We
sent OUR tree to the motor pool and had the ends of the limbs sprayed
with white paint. The USO scenery shop wired the tree to take 40-watt
bulbs and sent us cords from German parachutes, which they used to make
costumes for our USO shows. The white cords were the perfect size to
loop and lace through the holes in the centers of thousands of colored
Lifesavers. We wound the strings of colored candies around the tree
from top to bottom, placed a white tablecloth around the base, and
littered it with packages wrapped in colored paper.
sent OUR tree to the motor pool and had the ends of the limbs sprayed
with white paint. The USO scenery shop wired the tree to take 40-watt
bulbs and sent us cords from German parachutes, which they used to make
costumes for our USO shows. The white cords were the perfect size to
loop and lace through the holes in the centers of thousands of colored
Lifesavers. We wound the strings of colored candies around the tree
from top to bottom, placed a white tablecloth around the base, and
littered it with packages wrapped in colored paper.
The
party was noisy, messy, crowded and a huge success. Everyone admired
our tree. The Commanding officer and the Irish Mother Superior of the
orphanage could not stop congratulating us on the outcome of our
efforts. I have often wondered how many others have had a Christmas
tree from the Palace of Versailles, and whether we were assigned to
that unit in oder to put on this special Christmas party at such a
poverty-stricken time. I have also wondered if I am still wanted by the
French Government for the sacrilege committed at the Palace of
Versailles.
party was noisy, messy, crowded and a huge success. Everyone admired
our tree. The Commanding officer and the Irish Mother Superior of the
orphanage could not stop congratulating us on the outcome of our
efforts. I have often wondered how many others have had a Christmas
tree from the Palace of Versailles, and whether we were assigned to
that unit in oder to put on this special Christmas party at such a
poverty-stricken time. I have also wondered if I am still wanted by the
French Government for the sacrilege committed at the Palace of
Versailles.
At that moment,
however, I stood with those damned unwanted tears running down my
cheeks, feeling no longer like an orphan, for I had found another
family far from home.
however, I stood with those damned unwanted tears running down my
cheeks, feeling no longer like an orphan, for I had found another
family far from home.
—
James
T. Walsh holds degrees in both business and law and has traveled the
world as an executive of several international companies. He fought in
the 86th Infantry division and spent a year in Paris with the USO.
After the war, he married his high school sweetheart and together
they’ve raised five children. The couple now make their home in
Arizona.
T. Walsh holds degrees in both business and law and has traveled the
world as an executive of several international companies. He fought in
the 86th Infantry division and spent a year in Paris with the USO.
After the war, he married his high school sweetheart and together
they’ve raised five children. The couple now make their home in
Arizona.
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