| James McNitt's text |
Bill McNitt's annotations |
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In September I was taken by train to Southampton, where we boarded a ship
bound for LeHavre. The weather was pleasant, and we stayed on deck the
entire voyage. At LeHavre we were separated and sent to one of the several
cigarette camps nearby. These were staging areas named for no good reason
after various popular brands of cigarettes - Lucky Strike, Chesterfield,
Pall Mall, etc. I do not recall one called Camel, nor do I recall the name
of the one to which I was sent. It was in the small village of Etretat, on
the seafront. There was a cliff here in which had been gouged out a shallow
cave where Nazi gun emplacements had stood.
Dad in uniform on board a ship
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In a few days we were placed on a train for Paris, not in coaches but in
boxcars. There were many delays along the way; we did not appear to have a
high priority. At one stop in a rural area, we bought fresh tomatoes from
the farmers. It was night before we were unloaded at Paris and placed aboard
trucks which took us to Versailles.
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Our quarters were in a former stable, presumably used for horses for the
royal guard. We were just a few blocks from the castle. Our offices were
some distance away in what must have been at one time a luxurious home. As I
understood it, we were engaged in the disposal of surplus materials,
although I never did have a very clear idea of what was going on.
Dad and friends on the steps of the building
at Versailles in which they worked.
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In November I began to notice a small, comely girl in the office who
helped bring around the mail. She wore a uniform, and I was to learn
that she was a British civilian working for the U.S. Army. It
developed that her name was Lilian Harvey. She had formerly been
a Land Army girl, but had resigned along with others due to
discrimination on clothing ration coupons. She had applied to the
Labor Office to be assigned to the R.A.F., for which she had once
worked. Much to her indignation, she found she was needed more by the
U. S. Army. She was quartered in Paris, and each morning a French
driver would bring her in a jeep to Versailles to work.
Mom in military uniform, ca. 1945, and
in Land Army oufits, 1941
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Lilian Ethel Harvey was born in Andover,
Hampshire, England and was the daughter of Frederick William Kernott
Harvey and Eva Annie Mary Withers.
The R.A.F. is the Royal Air Force - both her brother and her
brother-in-law were serving in the R.A.F. |
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I asked her to come out and go through the palace with me on Thanksgiving
Day, and to eat with me at the Army mess. She agreed, and came out on the
train. Much of the palace treasure had been removed, and some of the
paintings had been damaged by condensation due to lack of heat, but there
was still enough to be impressive. A typical Thanksgiving meal was served at
the mess, with German POWs dishing out the food. The turkey was served in
great chunks. When she invited me back to eat the evening meal with her at
the officers' mess, the turkey was served neatly carved, on regular plates
instead of metal trays.
Photographs of Mom and Dad on the
steps of the building at Versailles where he worked.
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Things languished for a while after she learned of my marital status.
However, having picked up the misconception that I had seen her dash out
crying from the office, I went to her quarters after supper to see if I
could be of assistance. It developed that I had been mistaken. She was
washing out some things. After she sat a while and talked, we became quite
comfortable with each other and formed a mutual attraction.
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Our office was transferred to a multi-storied building on the Champs Elysees
in Paris, not far from the Arc de Triomphe. I was assigned quarters in a
formerly elegant dwelling place on the Avenue Kleber. It had 12-foot
ceilings and ornately carved woodwork, but it was cold and drafty. After
suffering through a bad cold, I moved to a nondescript hotel a block off the
Champs. Here for the price of a carton of cigarettes a week I rented a small
room, complete with a sink and bidet. Miss Harvey was also moved, to the
Hotel Rochester just around the corner from my hotel. It was somewhat more
sumptuous than mine, with its own bathroom. She shared it with a girl named
Celia. They got along well, as Celia was gone much of the time.
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The Paris office in which Dad worked was in
the building down the street, just beyond the London House.
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French women who worked in the office in which Dad worked
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I mentioned cigarettes. Through some bureaucratic snafu I was issued
PX ration cards by both the unit which supplied our living quarters
and rations, and the unit handling our work assignment. Then I bought
another card from a GI leaving for home. Instead of the allowed one
carton of cigarettes per week, bought at 50˘ per carton at the PX, I
was buying three. They were eagerly snapped up by the French people
working in our office at 600 francs a carton. The same was true of our
liquor ration, although this was handled on a slightly different
basis. At one time I had built up quite a supply, but it was taken off
my hands at 500 francs a bottle by a GI for his wedding reception.
As a result I had more money than I had had since joining the Army.
Miss Harvey also had a PX card.
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She had always gone by her second name, Ethel, but the Army always records
personnel by first name and middle initial, so she became Lilian to me. By
the same token I was officially William J., but the name never caught on
with my friends, and I was usually referred to as Mac.
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She established a rule that we were not to date over once a week. Somehow
this rule faded into obscurity, as there were so many places to go and
things to do. There was a tour to Fontainbleau to see the castle there, with
a stopover at a small village for a steak dinner with Camembert cheese on
the side. There were trips to the Eiffel Tower and to the Louvre Museum,
also to The Cathedral of Notre Dame and Napoleon's Tomb. We saw Maurice
Chevalier at the A.B.C. Theater (French theaters weren't heated, and we kept
our overcoats on). We spent Christmas together, and in the evening went to
the services at Sacre Coeur, the beautiful church which towers over the
Montmartre district.
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Individual photographs of Mom and Dad at the Arc de Triomphe
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Dad
on a bridge over the river Seine
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Individual photographs of Mom and Dad with the Eiffel Tower in the background
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The Eiffel Tower
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La Basilique du Sacre Coeur de Montmartre (Basilica of the Sacred Heart)
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She went home to England for a week, and I took the occasion to make a trip
to Switzerland. The first night in Berne I contacted tonsillitis, which had
plagued me occasionally through the years. I went to bed early with a
cloth-wrapped hot brick and piles of down comforters. I sweated all night,
and in the morning the tonsillitis was gone. I have never been troubled
since.
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High in the Alps, in a little village called Kanderburg, or some such
name, I tried my hand, or rather my feet, at skiing and ice skating. I
was a flop at both, but enjoyed it immensely.
 
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Kandersteg, Switzerland with Blümlisalp
(the mountain in the background)
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Kandersteg shop
(note the Texaco sign)
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Three photos of
the Hotel Schweizerhof where Dad and his friends stayed
in Kandersteg. The third shows a horse-drawn sleigh outside
the hotel.
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Five photos of
skiing lessons for the group. In the first, Dad is
at the right. In the next two, he his second from the
left. In the final two, he is third from the left.
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Dad
skiing with the Alps in the
background
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Dad
after
a fall
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The family photo albums make clear that the town was named Kandersteg. Kandersteg
is a municipality in the Frutigen-Niedersimmental administrative district in the canton of Bern. It
is in the Bernese Alps and is still known for its skiing.
The Hotel Schweizerhof, where they stayed in Kandersteg, is still open.
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At Geneva we were in a
huge hotel overlooking the lake. I recall being served trout with the
head on, my only such experience. Also impressive were the
well-stocked stores. There were bananas on sale, which I hadn't seen
since I had been overseas. Racks of lovely baked goods appeared in the
windows. I took some back with me, but they arrived somewhat crushed.
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Geneva, Switzerland
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Basel, Switzerland marekt place and town hall
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Basel, Switzerland town hall
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I also bought a Tissot watch to take back for Lilian. She was to wear it for
many years, until it was no longer possible to obtain parts for it.
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In the meantime she was enjoying herself in England. She dated a boy she
knew back there. She was fond of him, but he was somewhat younger than she.
I have heard that after her return to Paris he wrote her a letter which
might have had a bearing on her ultimate decision, but it never arrived.
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When we returned to Paris, there was a reluctance on her part to get
involved again, but proximity worked against her good intentions. We went
row-boating on the lake in the Bois de Boulogne. We watched demonstrations
by groups of GIs around the Eiffel Tower who were campaigning to get sent
home early. I was in no hurry myself, and when my departure date was set
back thirty days, I was quite pleased.
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Two photographs of Mom rowing on the lake
in the Bois de Boulogne
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Dad
preparing to throw a snowball in the
Bois de Boulogne (dated Feb. 1946)
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Two photographs of soldiers at the redeployment rally
in the Jardins du Trocadéro
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In the meantime the French decided to devalue the franc. To protect
the GIs, we were asked to turn in all old francs by a certain date.
The next day we would be issued twice as many new francs. This
privilege didn't extend to Lilian, but I included hers with mine. For
a day we were without money.
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A few months before I had been promoted to T/3 (Staff Sergeant). It was made
possible by the departure for home of some non-coms, leaving openings in the
T/O (Table of Organization). I had felt that I deserved it back in the post
office in New York and didn't get it; now I received it through no
particular merit on my part.
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Finally
it became my turn to return to the States. We said our goodbyes and I was taken back to LeHavre, to embark on
the Mormac Dove, a merchant ship scarcely in the class of my transportation
coming over. I was sick just
once, which I laid more to the vomit smells coming from the lavatories than
to the ship's motion. It took
about twice as long as on the Queen Elizabeth.
S.S. Mormacdove
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He departed Europe on March 13 and arrived
in the U.S. om March 26, 1946.
The S.S. Mormacdove was launched on June 1, 1942 at the Consolidated Steel Corporation's Wilmington, California
yard as a Type C1-B small cargo ship, but completed as a troop transport.
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Once disembarked, we were taken to Fort Kilmer in New Jersey. I recall that
they made a special effort to make our first meal a good one, with steak and
ice cream. A little later I was transferred to Fort Atterbury, Indiana to be
mustered out. I had a couple cavities, and took advantage of the free dental
service, thus delaying my discharge by a couple days. On March 30, 1946, I
was given sufficient funds to cover the trip home and my military service
was over.
Army discharge and separation certificates
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Sources, including Dad's discharge papers,
identify these two "Forts" as Camps.
Camp Kilmer was in
Edison New Jersey anmd was a major transportation hub for the military
during World War II. It later fell into disuse and was eventuually
deactivated.
Camp Atterbury is near Edinburgh, Indiana and is still used as a
National Guard training facility.
Dad's total army service was 3 years, 7
months, and 9 days.
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