I have always
regretted leaving it and bringing the baseball suit instead. Bruce
and I got onto the same plane and flew to a place along the French
coast. Along the way we flew over Paris and I at least had a chance
to see it from the air. We were put in an area with barracks known as
Stage 1 and were told to stay in that area only. Bruce and I found
beds together, left our gear and walked down to the mess hall. We
each got one of the cheese sandwiches they were passing out and they
were really something. They were two slices of white bread each two
Inches thick with a one inch inch thick slice of cheese in between.
The bread tasted like angel food cake to us after all that hard black
German bread; it was unbelievable how much flavor there was in white
bread. We were to eat in this area only for the first day, as, due to
our weakened condition, our diet and amount was to be limited. The
second day, in Stage 2, we went to a different, mess hall and on the
third day to Stage 3. Each day we received more food. As there were
no fences between these areas some guys would go to all three mess
halls for the same meal. The man named Irons (who had won the
mustache contest back in Sagan and still wore the mustache here in
France) was in the bunk next to me and at night we heard him moving
around at all hours. We later discovered that he had a helmet full of
food and was eating all night. Some of the guys got sick from eating
too much and there was a rumor of one man dying from eating too many
candy bars.
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