WWII in France, a little boy – my father – remembers…

My father passed away last year. He was born in 1936 so he was a kid during the war in France.

His father was made prisoner by the German army at the beginning of the war, so he did not remember him. The guy had to work as a prisoner in a German factory which eventually was bombed by the allies.

So the only memory my father had of his own father was a funeral casket.

  • My father remembers the endless sound of American or English bombers over the night, when he was trying to sleep. MMmmmmmmmmmm. For hours he said.
  • He remembers of a fight between two planes during a day, and he was imitating it, in the garden, his mother yelling at him : come inside the house now!
  • He remembers that one day an English plane was shot down, and that the pilot managed to escape, and that some women of the village kept the parachute fabric to make shirts.
  • He remembers that a troop of Germans stayed in the village and in summer dug a swimming pool where some kids of the village learnt how to swim.
  • He remembers, after the D-Day, the excitation of knowing the Americans were coming to deliver the country.
  • He remembers the tanks, and that tanks were so heavy and powerful that they could damage some roads.
  • He remembers a very tall American guy patting his head and giving him… a chewing gum tablet.

Festivities in the village. His mother crying. He barely could watch a war movie in his adult life.

I took this picture in the garden I talked about :






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