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DATES NOT FORGOTTEN - CHAUNY, FRANCE by Virgil R. Marco Sr., 366BS Tail Gunner, 305BG |
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There are two dates in my life during World War II that I will always remember, April 24, 1944 and September 2, 1944. Here are some of my memories during these dates. On April 24 I was flying as Tail Gunner on the Capt. Lincoln B-17 crew when our plane was shot down over Nazi occupied France. The following September 2, I was liberated by the U.S 28th Infantry Division in Chauny, France. My parachute brought me down in a plowed field near my waist gunner, Gene Snodgrass. We then walked for several hours to the small village of Iviers, near Aubenton, France not far from the Belgium border. We traveled for the next several weeks with the help of some very brave Frenchmen to the city of Chauny. If caught by the Gestapo helping us, they would have been executed on the spot. After arriving by motorcycle at an automobile repair garage operated by a Resistance Hero, Alfred Logeon, in Chauny, Gene Snodgrass and I were introduced to Genevieve Tavernier who spoke English very well. Genevieve informed us that she was taking us to her home. She gave us instructions to follow at a safe distance, which would give the appearance of not knowing or following her.
Out the back door of the garage and down a pathway to a back street we followed Genevieve until we reached her home about two miles from the garage in the center of Chauny on rue Paul Doumer, a street named after one of the former French Presidents. We found her home to be a two story brick house with a high pitched black slate roof. In front was a large, beautiful garden of tulips of various colors. A white fence separated the house and the large garden from the street. When entering the house we were greeted by Genevieve's father, Alfred, her mother, Marcelle, and older sister, Denise. Denise welcomed us by saying "Bon jour! Comment allez vous." We were invited to the kitchen for refreshments where we learned the family name to be Tavernier. Mr. Alfred Tavernier was in his mid fifties, stout build with an outdoor complexion of rosy cheeks. The gray balding area on his head was sunburned from working in the garden. He had a handsome smile beneath his white walrus mustache.
Mrs. Marcelle Tavernier was a large stout woman in her fifties with black naturally curly hair streaked with gray. She also had a good sun tanned complexion. Denise was twenty-four and Genevieve was nineteen. Denise had brown hair and a pretty smile. Genevieve had bright red curly hair, freckles and the ability to speak and understand the English language. She was our interpreter.
When we finished our refreshments, Genevieve asked us to follow her to her Grandparent's home about a half mile down rue Paul Doumer where the street ended. Her Grandparents had passed away recently and the house still contained their furniture. We entered the back door to the kitchen then up a stairway to the bedrooms we were to occupy. Genevieve cautioned us to stay away from the windows as she left the house. She returned later with our supper. We were informed that she would bring us breakfast each morning when she routinely came to feed the chickens and gather the eggs from the backyard chicken coop. Farming was probably one of the occupations of her Grandparents as the large lot next door was under cultivation by a farm hand hired by her father. We saw him working in the field every day as we peeked out the window on that side of the house. About three days after we took up residence here, Genevieve had some good news for us. Another one of our crew had been found and was being brought here by the Underground. As we were told his name was Bill, we thought they had found our pilot, Bill Lincoln. When our crewmember arrived, we found out that he was Bill Bergman, the other waist gunner. Bill was about our age twenty or twenty-one. We spent the days cautiously looking out one of the front bedroom windows watching the people go by and waiting for Genevieve to bring our next meal. We seemed to be hungry all the time even though we were adequately fed. We were beginning to feel like caged pets waiting for our master to bring our rations of food. Twice a week a platoon of German soldiers broke our monotony by marching in front of the house, their hobnailed boots keeping perfect cadence with the song they were singing. Every day we hoped Genevieve would bring us news of being moved to Paris where we would start the process of sneaking across the channel to freedom. Bill was looking out the window one morning when he asked Gene and I to do the same. We saw young men pedaling their bicycles as fast as they could. Each had a pack on their back filled with long loaves of bread, wine and probably cheese. They were leaving town. Bill said that he had been observing this mass exodus for at least twenty minutes and felt something strange was going on. This day eliminated our hopes of traveling to Paris anytime soon. The day was June 6, 1944, D-Day. When Genevieve arrived with our morning meal, she entered her Grandparent's house saying, "It has happened. The Allies have invaded France from Cherbourg to Dunkirk". We found out later that the invasion was at Normandy, a long way from Chauny. This explained the unusual exodus of young men on their bicycles. "Where were they going?" Genevieve answered this question by pointing out that everyone was afraid the Germans would begin searching the homes for all young men and transport them to Germany, reducing the chance of an uprising. These men were headed for the woods to hide and join the Resistance Forces. Genevieve also informed us that we would have to leave right away. After we ate we followed her at a safe distance to her home. A French Resistance Agent arrived in a small station wagon. We climbed in the back. There were no windows and we sped away not knowing where we were going until we arrived at a large farm. Inside this large barn, we found to our amazement about fifty other American and Allied flyers. Later that day Gene, Bill and I were taken to a smaller farm nearby and the other flyers were disbursed to other homes in the farm community. During the night I heard the constant roar of planes flying overhead, one after another all night long. Our home now was a farmhouse about a thirty-minute drive from Chauny. When I returned to Chauny in September 1994, I met five of these men again in Chauny to celebrate the 50th Anniversary of the Liberation of Chauny. Their names are (Americans) John Harms and Jack Kupsick, (Canadians) John Neal and Bob Lindsay and one from Great Britain, Stanley Everiss. While there, I learned the owner of the farm with the large barn was shot by the Germans who also burned his farm buildings. A middle aged woman lived here alone. She had a cow, chickens, ducks and some other barnyard animals. I remember the first night she cooked a large bowl of what looked like spaghetti and ground beef. Gene grew up on a farm in Stilwell, Oklahoma and immediately recognized the dish as tripe. After describing to Bill and I what tripe was, we lost our appetite. The woman first thought we were sick and then she realized that we did not like what she had served us. She then brought us a large bowl of boiled potatoes and a loaf of bread. We ate the boiled potatoes as if we were eating steak. The next few days were a pleasant change from being confined to the inside of a house all day. We did miss the nice soft bed at our home in Chauny, but the hayloft was not as bad as we expected and the brown and white cow below did not seem to mind our sharing her home in the barn. We spent the day watching the farm animals and wondering if the invasion was successful. Would we be rescued soon? Our new hostess had made a pet out of her rooster. His name was "El Captain". When she called his name, he came running and then fall. Every time he tried to run any distance he would fall several times. He was knock-kneed. He also had a strange crow. His crowing would sort of give out. As much as he tried to crow like any other rooster, he couldn't. The kitchen door was often left open and El Captain would be free to walk in and out as he wished. He thought he was king of the barnyard, but some of the other animals did not think so, especially the drake that ignored his occasional threats. After about a week on the farm, the Resistant Agent drove us back to Chauny to the family who had been hiding us in their deceased Grandparent's vacant home. We were parked in front of the Tavernier home on rue Paul Doumer for a long time while the Resistance Agent visited with Mr. Tavernier. When we were invited inside, we found that Mr. Tavernier had arranged for us to stay in his home. Friends who had lost their home in a recent allied bombing now occupied their Grandparent’s home. Genevieve moved into her sister's room and gave Gene and I her room. They converted the storage room into a bedroom for Bill. We were requested to stay in Bill's room during the day as no one could hear us walking. Bill's room was over Mr. & Mrs. Tavernier's bedroom whereas the other bedroom was over the kitchen where friends often visited. They could hear us walking about if we were in the room above. The Taverniers treated us like one of the family. They requested us to stay upstairs and out of sight of their friends and floral customers during the day. Many of their customers were German soldiers and nurses. We were allowed down stairs after dark when we joined the family at the large kitchen table for supper. Supper was always late after dark and we sat and talked to near midnight. During the day we cautiously looked out Bill's window as it gave us a good view out the front of the house. We saw people walking and riding their bicycles back and forth on rue Paul Doumer. Often German officers, enlisted men and nurses came here to buy flowers or order a funeral wreath. Denise was an expert at making beautiful funeral wreaths. One day three drunk German soldiers come to the house to buy a bouquet of flowers and then staggered down the street in a drunken manner, throwing the flowers in the air one by one. They appeared to be singing although I could not hear them. With a small radio in Bill's room we heard the news in English from the BBC. Bill made a map of Europe shading in the areas where the allies and Russians advanced each day. We also listened to the German propaganda station, which was directed to the allied invasion forces. We listened mainly because of the good American swing music. I remember one of their propaganda songs as follows. "There once was a man named Churchill. Whose troops Stood at a standstill. He invited the Yanks over, But when it was all over, he failed to say thank you, The bastard Churchill." There were other propaganda songs like this one about President Roosevelt and other Allied dignitaries, which I can not remember. In retrospect living with the Taverniers was very impressive experience and its one I will never forget. The Taverniers were like any middle class American family except they spoke French. They were very patriotic, religious, moral people. Their immediate goal was to remove the German domination of France as soon as possible and at whatever the cost. General DeGaulle was their hero fighting for the liberation of France. The Taverniers were also fighting for the liberation of France by risking their lives to help us evade capture by the enemy. We were very fortunate to have such a nice family share their home with us and treat us like one of the family. The Taverniers had many friends in Chauny. One of their friends, the local Banker, came every Sunday evening before dark to listen to the news broadcast from London with the Taverniers. They never told him that they were hiding three American flyers upstairs until after the liberation of Chauny. The Banker was about Mr. Tavernier's age and always wore a black suit and a black derby hat. The Taverniers were also friends of the "Black Market". Their prosperous business enabled them to buy meat, butter, sugar, olive oil and other scarce food items. Their garden and orchards supplied a variety of vegetables and fruits. The chickens at their Grandparent's house supplied them with eggs and they raised rabbits for food, which they kept hidden in their garage. We offered the Taverniers all our escape kit money, but they refused our offer. However, they did accept it for the purchase of tobacco from the “Black Market” for Bill’s habit. Lack of cigarettes made Bill very nervous. Gene and I were fortunate that we had not taken up the habit at this time in our life. One night just after D-Day and while we were hiding on the farm, someone broke into the Tavernier's basement where they kept their meat in "wire" cages and stole all of it. The cool basement was their refrigerator and the cages kept the rats from the meat. Since the meat was "Black Market", they could not report the burglary to the police. Denise and her mother were excellent cooks. The menu for the evening meal was usually a large pot of stew consisting of meat and a variety of vegetables such as potatoes, carrots, cabbage, onions, etc. The evening meal always began with soup. If we had another main dish, different soup was prepared. Cider was the main drink. The other main courses served were pork chops, the largest I have ever seen; beef liver, the best I have ever tasted; baked rabbit, tasted like baked chicken; and sometimes we had fried eggs. We had a lettuce salad with a tasty dressing made with olive oil. In addition to the usual vegetables, we were served artichokes and fresh asparagus, the tips of which were eaten after dipping in a very delicious olive oil sauce. As you can see the big event each day was our evening meal. The main topic of discussion while we were eating was the progress of the allied invasion. Genevieve was our interpreter. Bill, Gene and I were sure the Americans would reach Chauny first. Mr. Tavernier was of the opinion that the British would arrive first. It was not long after D-Day that the American forces broke through the enemy defenses heading in our direction while the British troops were still having difficulty liberating Caen in Normandy near the invasion beaches. We had fun each evening asking Mr. Tavernier if the British would ever liberate Caen. He was jubilant about the American victories and soon agreed with us that the American troops would reach Chauny first. I can still see the smile on his face below his walrus mustache, the twinkle in his eyes and motion of his hands communicating to us in his language his happiness in hearing the good news of another big American victory. Denise said she would bake a pie for supper whenever the Americans made a big victory. Soon we were having pie, apple or cherry, most every evening. While running to the homemade air raid shelter one day we noticed corn growing in their garden. That night we asked Genevieve when we were going to have corn for supper. Genevieve replied "corn is for the chickens and farm animals. We do not eat corn". We countered that we ate corn and thought it was very good food. Genevieve said that Denise would cook us some corn for supper the next day. Corn on the cob with real butter and salt made a real feast for Bill, Gene and I. The Taverniers watched us eat the corn as if we were from another planet. One day a Resistance Agent brought two pilots to see us. Both were P-51 pilots. One pilot was about twenty-seven years old and other pilot was nineteen. The senior pilot was lst. Lt. Arthur Owen and the younger pilot was Flight Officer Donald Dix. Denise served our guests some of her delicious cherry pie and a glass of cider. We each told our stories of how we were brought to Chauny and we discussed the progress of the invasion. I remember asking the pilots in a joking manner if there was any truth to the German propaganda stories of the ruthless American Flyers strafing women and children. The older pilot replied immediately "Oh, hell. We were given orders to shoot anything that moved. Sometimes if I couldn't find a military target, I would look for what ever I could find. Sometimes it might be a cow". The pilots were very impressed with our living standards and they pointed out that their diet consisted mainly of potato soup and very little meat and of course, no dessert. They reminded us of how lucky we were living with the Taverniers. A few days later, we received another surprise visit from the older pilot. He was alone. No Resistance Agent came with him. He made the visit without their permission. The allied forces were expected to liberate Paris soon. The older pilot was impressed with the story of Gene and myself walking from Aubenton to Guignicourt. He felt that we could now walk from Chauny to Paris, a distance of about seventy miles, to greet the Americans when they arrived. We turned down his invitation as we chose to stay with the Taverniers until the American troops reached Chauny. We had seen pictures in the Tavernier's picture album of Chauny taken during the First World War. Chauny was a pile of rubble, completely destroyed. The thought of this happening again did not motivate us to join the pilot with his plan. We preferred to take our chances that Chauny would not be another battlefield in this war. Genevieve brought us English books occasionally to relieve our boredom of being inside all day. She informed us that she had borrowed the books from an English woman who lived in Chauny. She was married to a Doctor who had the distinction of being one of the few to have a bathtub. The English books passed the time but they were not very interesting. The English style of writing fiction put me to sleep. I soon loss interest in what I was reading. We did receive one American book, "Uncle Tom's Cabin". Genevieve also informed us that our British friend Ron Scott was living at the Doctor's house. We thought Ron was on his way back to England, however, his final destination was also Chauny. Genevieve told us a story about Ron working with the Resistance. The resistance wanted him to operate a radio for them and he refused as long as possible. However, one day he finally consented to assist them in sending messages to England. They had been in the woods sending messages and were returning to Chauny when they were stopped by a group of German soldiers and taken to a nearby army camp. Ron and the two Frenchmen were taken to an officer's office where they assumed they would be questioned about operating their radio, which was still hidden in the woods. Instead of being questioned, the officer turned them over to a corporal. The corporal then led them to an area of the camp where they were furnished brooms, brushes, soap and water to clean barracks. After completing their tasks, they were released. This was a close call for Ron and his friends. They felt sure that they had been caught sending radio messages to England, but it turned out that the German soldiers only needed their barracks cleaned and were unaware that they were their enemy. We had met Ron in our travels to Chauny. The allies were preparing for the D-Day invasion by targeting the Nazi transportation system. The Chauny railroad station and marshaling yards were popular targets for the American Medium and Fighter-Bombers. In the city of Tergnier, four miles from Chauny, the railway system was attacked by the British and American heavy bombers. I kept records of these air raids and other events beginning with May 30, 1944 to September 2, 1944. I remember the night of May 30, 1944 before we moved in with the Taverniers. We were awaken by the air raid sirens to find the night had been changed into day by the flares dropped by the British bombers. The bombers were flying over one at a time through the red burst of flak dropping their bombs. The ground rumbled and the house shook as the bombs exploded. The target was not Chauny but the neighboring town of Tergnier. The enemy flak shot down one Lancaster bomber. We met the survivors at the farm on D-Day. All the crew but one was rescued by the French Underground. Unfortunately one of the flyer's Parachute failed to open and they found him in a swamp, dead, waist deep in mud. The next event recorded was on June 2, 1944. We watched from one of the bedroom windows the American P-47s diving down toward their target, the train station, dropping their bombs and heading straight up. I can still hear the groaning sound of the P-47's engines as they made their routine bomb runs and the resulting explosions of their bombs. The next day, June 3, American P-38s took turns in diving down strafing the marshaling yards with their fifty caliber machine guns and 20MM cannons, releasing their bombs, and leaving without opposition. The P-47s were back again on June 22, July 1 and July 20 strafing and bombing the marshaling yards of Chauny. On July 22, six groups of American B-17s and B-24s bombed the town of Tergnier. Genevieve told us that they missed the marshaling yards and destroyed many homes near the target. The morning of August 8, Genevieve informed us that a German ammunition train was in the Chauny railroad station. It was only a short time later that morning; we heard the air raid siren. We took our usual place at Bill's bedroom window to view the fighter-bombers making their attack. It was P-47s again taking their turn of diving down toward their target, strafing and releasing bombs while other P-47s seemed to fly around above looking for enemy planes that might try to interrupt their attack. Before long we could hear popping noises that sounded like a package of firecrackers being ignited. We were looking out the window watching the show when Gene said, "It looks like they hit the ammunition train". Just as he made that statement we saw a large fireball and felt the heat as it rose up into the sky. Then the loud explosion occurred. We turned and ran for the stairs as other explosions one after another shook the city. For a moment I thought the roof had fallen in as the trap door to the attic jarred loose and fell on my shoulder. We did not wait for permission to leave the upstairs. Gene and I ran outside to the air raid shelter. Bill ran for the basement where he found the "the White Lighting". Bill was in a very good mood when the explosions finally tapered off in the late afternoon. The French "White Lighting" was a very good tranquilizer. That night we could hear the German planes strafing the wreckage apparently trying to explode any remaining bombs in the wrecked railroad cars so they could clean up the remains from the marshaling yards as soon as possible. On the morning of August 9, the air raid sirens made their warning sounds again. We looked out the window and at low altitude we saw groups of B-26 medium bombers flying toward Chauny. We again evacuated the upstairs and ran for the air raid shelter in record time. We were not too far from the railroad station, and we were concerned about the accuracy of their bombing, especially after what happened in Tergnier by the B-17s and B-24s. When the last group dropped their bombs apparently on target, we were thankful for their accuracy. The same afternoon we had a repeat performance by more B-26s. On August 12, American P-51s made their debut, strafing and bombing the marshaling yard. The night of August 18, an English Mosquito Bomber dropped flares locating a German convoy moving through Chauny. We heard a bomb explode and the popping sound of the Mosquito bomber's guns being turned loose on the convoy. A photographer from the Resistance gave us a picture of the German soldiers observing the smoking remains of their convoy the next morning. The unopposed attacks by our planes on the Chauny marshaling yards ended August 22. The Luftwaffe appeared to greet the American P-38s. We saw a spectacular display of flying skills, both American and German. We counted seven ME-109s and one P-38 destroyed in the battle. We later met the P-38 pilot who parachuted to safety of the French Underground.
P-38s returned the next day to strafe and bomb with no opposition. However, on August 25 the ME-109s were ready for another fight when the P-38s arrived. The battle began with another spectacular display of flying skills with P-38s executing all sorts of acrobatic maneuvers. When the battle was over, we counted seventeen ME-109s and nine P-38s destroyed. That afternoon P-51s arrived for a fight with the ME-109s. Six ME-109s were destroyed with no losses to the P-51s. The next day, August 24, we counted one hundred fifty-two B-26s flying over Chauny dropping their bombs on an oil storage depot close by. We could see black smoke from a fire after the bombing.
During the night of September 1, 1944, we heard explosions and saw lights flickering on the horizon as if a storm was brewing when in reality it was American mortars and artillery being fired at the enemy. They seemed to be closer than ever now. Would Chauny be another battlefield as it had been during World War I when it was turned to rubble? The noise of the enemy trucks and horse drawn wagons were retreating through Chauny toward Belgium most of the night. The next morning was Saturday, September 2, 1944, a day I will always remember. Genevieve knocked loudly on the door and at the same time said, "Wake up, the American soldiers are here". I jumped out of bed, dressed in record time. There is no way I can express the joy felt in receiving this news. The daily fear of being caught and the resulting consequences were now over and Chauny was not going to be a battlefield in this war, thanks to the American 28th Infantry Division who had arrived, giving Chauny back to France.
When we arrived, we could see the trucks loaded with American soldiers stopping for a few minutes and then starting forward like an accordion. Gene and I joined the people crowded along the street. We were not greeting them in French but in English. We yelled at the passing trucks, "Give 'em Hell Yanks, give' em hell". After the convoy stopped for a few minutes, our greeting brought this reply. "Where did you Frenchies learn to speak English like that?" We replied, "Oh we picked it up in the states". We then proceeded to inform them that we had been shot down and had been hiding in Chauny. Another GI on the truck commented, "We have some extra rifles and room for two more". This brought a reply of, "No thanks". Shortly after this conversation we saw a jeep with a Captain in it approaching and we stopped him, identifying ourselves as missing airmen. We inquired how to get back to the 305th Bomb Group in England. While we were talking a M.P. Colonel stopped his jeep and began lecturing the Captain about stopping and blocking part of the road. The Captain invited us in his jeep along with our bicycles. He then drove us back to the quartermaster trucks in the convoy. While making this trip, he told us that it was not safe to travel on the road to Paris because of the German soldiers that had been bypassed and were hiding in the wooded areas. He suggested that we stay in Chauny a few more days before attempting to hitch hike a ride to Paris. He also said the Army Air Force had occupied the Paris Airport where we should report for transportation back to England.
When we arrived at the quartermaster unit, he gave us a field jacket,
underwear, socks and a pair of shoes for myself. We thanked the
Captain for the GI clothes, took our bicycles off the jeep and peddled
back to town where we joined a crowd gathered in front of the City
Hall. The military band began to play the French and the American
National Anthems. This was proceeded by speeches by the military
and
In the crowd that gathered in front of the City Hall we found the
Tavernier family. They were talking to a friend. They introduced
us to The Tavernier friend had been hiding him. We informed the P-38 pilot that we had witnessed his aerial battle that day when we had counted seven ME-109s and one P-38 destroyed. The one P-38 must have been his plane. After the ceremonies the pilot thanked the old Frenchmen who had a few tears in his eyes and said good-by. We gave the pilot the information given us about the possible danger between Chauny and Paris. We also informed him that he could find transportation back to England at the Paris Airport. When riding our bicycles about the city, we observed street fighting, Frenchmen beating up Frenchmen. We saw women being assaulted and having their hair shaved off. We were told that they had fraternized with the Germans. This violence began to become as noticeable as the celebrations everywhere. This prompted us to return to the Tavernier home with great speed.
That evening, the two GIs arrived at the Tavernier home where Mr. Tavernier gave them several bottles of wine. We introduced them to the family before driving in their jeep to the bivouac area. We had an unusually good Army meal. The homemade rolls were delicious. The mess sergeant gave us a "Life" magazine, which I brought back with me. Genevieve was very impressed with the food advertisements. She said America must be paradise. The next morning we bid the Taverniers good-by. The departure was as sad for the Taverniers as for us. We thanked them for all their hospitality and they wished us well on our trip to Paris. By late October we were on our way back home to the United States.
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© Copyright Virgil R. Marco, Sr. All rights reserved. |
their
friend and in turn he introduced us to a tall young man with him.
Much to our surprise the young man was the P-38 pilot who had been
shot down near Chauny, August 22. 
