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Rosebud, v. 1, issue 4, April 1945
Page 10
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"Somewhere in Belgium" by Sgt. James Thomas France reminded me of a gigantic corpse...one which was being slowly resurrected. A rather beaten-up phoenix arising from it's ashes albeit rather heavily and painfully. France's history is written in her graveyards and her shattered cities. Wares and more wars -- and intervals between wars to bury the dead. And build monuments to their memory. A battlefield is a page of her history -- and at the same time her whole history. Its script is bold and plain. Acres of wooden crosses put there twenty-five years ago -- or six months ago. Ruined trenches & gaping shell holes -- twenty-five years old or six months old. Recency has nothing to do with it. France's wounds have never had time to heal. The traces that modern war leaves behind are soul-shattering. In fact, its gross understatement to call them traces. There's so little that's permanent in this life and it hurts inside to see the results of man's struggle for permanence laid in ruins. A dead city is not a pretty sight. France has a good many of them. There is some small satisfaction in knowing that Germany has them too -- and will have a few more before this thing is over. There was an editorial in Stars and Stripes recently consisting of a single picture. In the background are the ruins of Aachen. In the foreground is a sign with a sentence from a Hitler speech on it -- "Give me five years and you will not recognize Germany." I've made some friends among the Belgian and French people. Like most of the friends I've made in the last few years, they're gone now and I won't see them again. I've talked mostly with young people. They are the only hope left to Europe. A lot depends on which path they take or which path they are led into. Their resiliency is all that is left. They told me of German atrocities -- stories which I hesitate to repeat. Jean Fallot of the FFI and Jules of the Belgian Maquis -- their hate for the Boche was so strong it was a tangible thing, a hard substance. They never used the term "Commuism" but they were communists in the sense that they were radicals. They no longer had much faith in their betters -- they were no longer sheep. Of course we must deplore this tendency, our betters tell us to. Rumblings like these cause high places to tremble a bit -- to see less high and less secure. Jean Fallot was typical. We talked for hours, practically all night for three nights. We discussed everything: politics, religion, love. My French is bad but he was patient. He had been deeply affected by the war -- his faith in some things we consider essential was shattered, yet basically he was the same type of animal as you and I. The fundamentals of decency and honesty were his. What is done with such material as he, is going to be a great responsibility not only for his leaders but for us. When he left he summed up his whole philosophy in a few words: "We are the little people, you and I. We have talked a great deal but we have said nothing. And what can we say or do? We are little people." -10-
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"Somewhere in Belgium" by Sgt. James Thomas France reminded me of a gigantic corpse...one which was being slowly resurrected. A rather beaten-up phoenix arising from it's ashes albeit rather heavily and painfully. France's history is written in her graveyards and her shattered cities. Wares and more wars -- and intervals between wars to bury the dead. And build monuments to their memory. A battlefield is a page of her history -- and at the same time her whole history. Its script is bold and plain. Acres of wooden crosses put there twenty-five years ago -- or six months ago. Ruined trenches & gaping shell holes -- twenty-five years old or six months old. Recency has nothing to do with it. France's wounds have never had time to heal. The traces that modern war leaves behind are soul-shattering. In fact, its gross understatement to call them traces. There's so little that's permanent in this life and it hurts inside to see the results of man's struggle for permanence laid in ruins. A dead city is not a pretty sight. France has a good many of them. There is some small satisfaction in knowing that Germany has them too -- and will have a few more before this thing is over. There was an editorial in Stars and Stripes recently consisting of a single picture. In the background are the ruins of Aachen. In the foreground is a sign with a sentence from a Hitler speech on it -- "Give me five years and you will not recognize Germany." I've made some friends among the Belgian and French people. Like most of the friends I've made in the last few years, they're gone now and I won't see them again. I've talked mostly with young people. They are the only hope left to Europe. A lot depends on which path they take or which path they are led into. Their resiliency is all that is left. They told me of German atrocities -- stories which I hesitate to repeat. Jean Fallot of the FFI and Jules of the Belgian Maquis -- their hate for the Boche was so strong it was a tangible thing, a hard substance. They never used the term "Commuism" but they were communists in the sense that they were radicals. They no longer had much faith in their betters -- they were no longer sheep. Of course we must deplore this tendency, our betters tell us to. Rumblings like these cause high places to tremble a bit -- to see less high and less secure. Jean Fallot was typical. We talked for hours, practically all night for three nights. We discussed everything: politics, religion, love. My French is bad but he was patient. He had been deeply affected by the war -- his faith in some things we consider essential was shattered, yet basically he was the same type of animal as you and I. The fundamentals of decency and honesty were his. What is done with such material as he, is going to be a great responsibility not only for his leaders but for us. When he left he summed up his whole philosophy in a few words: "We are the little people, you and I. We have talked a great deal but we have said nothing. And what can we say or do? We are little people." -10-
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