After Action Reviews
Our founders and members often write "AAR"
(After Action Reports) when we attend an event. These reports are not only
often creative and interesting, but they help us gain a perspective of the
events we attend.
21 July, 1944
Friday evening
Somewhere in France
Dear Mama,
The Wacs have arrived! We’re in ____, France. (I know where, but I can’t
tell you now.) I’ve got to be careful about what I write to you—I don’t want
to write something that won’t pass the censors and then you’ll get worried
because something has been cut out. I’m reminded of that song from the Great
War, “Somewhere in France, Dear Mother”, only I can spell where I am and
soon we will be in Berlin or at least Paris by winter.
With headquarters set up in a beautiful chateau, we’ve taken up residency in
tents around it, which is quite different from what we were living in back
in England. I was amazed by how quick our area went up—I was expecting it to
take much longer.
The girls that I shared housing with back in England are sharing a tent with
me now. So the old gang (Shirleen, Jennifer, Carolyn, and myself) and all
our gear and clothing are stuffed into one small tent. With the nights
cooler than the days, it’s rather nice to have all the body heat to keep the
tent warm, especially since it started misting and drizzling on our second
day here. Poor Jennifer, found a leak in our tent when it started dripping
on her head. I finally perfected my sleeping bag and blanket
arrangement—much to my delight! I had a devil of a time while we were
training in England. I could not for the life of me figure out how to stay
warm, but don’t worry, I figured it out and now I ‘m as snug as a bug in a
rug!
Do you remember Mrs. Ruth Perkins? I wrote about her before, she is the lady
who operates the Kingston Arms Pub in Cambridge. The girls and I visited her
a few times when we were on leave. Well, that dear, old lady managed to save
up enough butter to make two batches of shortbread for the girls and I. It
was wonderful, especially the batch with ginger pieces in it. I wish there
was something I could send her to thank her properly. Of course I’ll write
her a nice thank you note, but that hardly seems enough with butter so hard
to come by in England.
Foods that were strictly rationed back in England are hard to come by over
here too, but Patricia, Karen, Shirleen, Lucy, and myself managed to find
some decent food our first night here. We had a very nice loaf of French
bread with some strawberry jam for breakfast the next morning, I just wasn’t
up for eating a k-ration breakfast after that nice dinner we had.
Our second night here, we found another nice place in town to eat and a real
swell soldier named Joe, that Lucy knows, paid for dinner. Thanks Joe! I had
some wonderful cheese, fresh milk, and a roast beef sandwich. Lucy managed
to find ice cream of all things and she shared it with a little dachshund
named Addie that we’ve adopted as our mascot.
The next morning a Scottish-born G.I, named Sgt. McDonald made us
breakfast—eggs, bacon, sausage (or ‘sauge’ as Shirleen spells it, cheese (or
‘chesse’ as Shirleen spells it), biscuits (or ‘biskits’ as Shirleen spells
it), fresh-squeezed orange juice and coffee. It was wonderful, but poor
Jennifer had to go on sick call because of it. I guess McDonald’s not such a
‘great cook’ as he made himself out to be!
Oh!—on the second day, when we stood retreat, a few of us Wacs were selected
to help with the folding of the flag. It was a very proud moment for me as I
was one of them. I’ve stood retreat before, but never help with the actual
flag lowering and folding. That will definitely stand out in my memory for
some time.
Another highlight of our first few days here in France has been riding in a
captured German car. We found a French fellow named “Pierre” (I don’t think
that was his real name though) to drive Shirleen, Jennifer, and myself
around. We got a little unruly. When we would drive pass civilians I would
say “Hand, Salute” and the girls and I would salute like Hitler. (You know,
the lazy way he flips his hand back to do the Nazi salute.) I guess because
we’re G.I, gals, the civilians didn’t realize what we were actually doing
and they would just wave back at us.
You’ll never believe this, but it’s true! We had five German soldiers
surrender to us ! They must have gotten separated from their unit and been
hiding out in the area. Although when they got a whiff of our coffee in the
morning, they sure came out of hiding really quick. They were rather polite
and very grateful for the hot coffee since it was so cold and damp the night
before. We didn’t talk much with them and we turned them over to the M.P.’s
as soon as possible, so the war is over for them. It’s a shame that there
were no photographers around, I can just see the headlines in the papers
now—“Germans Surrender to Wacs for Coffee” —but, no soap.
I’ll have to close here, I need to wash my hair and set it before bed. I’m
sure by now, you can see that I’m alive and well. I don’t want you think
that this is all just fun and games for me when I say that I’m having a
great time over here, because a lot of work is getting done and it’s not
always easy. It’s just that the company that I’m with makes the difference
out here. I’m with a swell bunch of girls.
Give my love to all the family and say “hello” to all the folks back home
that ask about me. I’ll write again soon.
Your loving daughter,
Heidi