Hi, Ben -

 

Trip Report, Part 2

 

I just read Marty's report on our visit to Callian, and there is even more to the story than they know.

 

Like she wrote, we all (Dad (Allan Johnson 596), Lud Gibbons 596, and Leo Dean HQ, plus the assorted family members) went out to Callian the day after all the festivities were finally over in the Le Muy area.  We searched the whole area surrounding the village, and found an olive farm with terraces (the kind for cultivation).  Lud was pretty sure that this was the area where he'd landed, because he remembered losing his footing off of one of the terraces the night of the jump.  The owner of the farm wasn't home, but we'd talked to his son.  The father would be back the next day, but we'd been planning to leave that next morning.

 

After lunch, Lud and Marty left and we continued to poke around just a bit more, driving through all the neighborhoods and generally nosing around.  We'd just about given up when we pulled over and asked a couple sunbathing in their yard.  They don't know, because it's their friend's house.  The friend came out and really seemed to want to help.  He told us of a neighbor who would know and went inside to go call him.  He wasn't answering, but why don't we all just drive over there, he says.  Well, don't you know he proceeded to lead us right back to the farmhouse where we'd just been.  Laughing, we told him that we'd already been here, and the man wouldn't be back until the next day.  He took our phone number for our hotel, on the off chance that he could learn something, and we returned to our rooms an hour away near Le Muy.  We really didn't expect to hear from him, and resigned ourselves to not finding the place. 

 

Now, we'd been planning to move along this next day, and Callian was in the opposite direction over slow roads.  But this gentleman called us as we were getting ready to leave and told me emphatically that he had spoken to his neighbor and he has seen the ravine that Dad described.  He is sure this is the place and we must come back.  He was adamant.

 

So (as Leo said, this is why we're on a flexible schedule) we returned and met everyone - first the neighbor who'd made the call, and then the French farmer - Jean Veyan - who hadn't been home the previous day.

 

The farmer is 77 and moved around his property like a mountain goat, easily outpacing all of us.  We all scampered to follow him and followed each other in cars to the appointed place.  Would you believe that he took us right to the ravine where Dad remembers landing 60 years ago?  The brush had changed, of course, but the topography was the same and the distinctive rockface at the top confirmed it.  As we followed them to see where we were in relationship to the village (because it had been only a short walk 60 years ago), it was clear.  This was the spot.  What a moment.

 

Now, Monsieur Veyan took us on a tour of his property, telling us that they had seen the first paratroopers come down with their lights (the British Pathfinders).  He was very specific:  the paratroopers were dropped in a straight line from west to east.  He and his mother watched out the window, she saying, "They are here!  We must help them!"  He showed us a place where they'd had a tree, until the impact of a paratrooper knocked it down (the trooper lived).  He showed us the spot where he'd picked up a pack of Chesterfield cigarettes, which I guess had fallen off of a trooper as he came down.  He also showed us where the injured had been - first at a small house right in town, and then where they were moved to, because there were too many.  His treasure, though, was a still-packed reserve chute.  When he pulled that out of an army trunk, both Dad and Leo exclaimed - after 60 years - "Don't touch that red handle!"

 

The whole afternoon ended by returning to the farmhouse to celebrate with Kir Royale - champagne and creme de cassis - and we toasted our new friendship.  It was sad to hear at this time that although the Americans' landing had been greeted with great joy and relief, the troopers left almost immediately to get to their intended drop zone in Le Muy/Les Arcs.  We were told that the Germans didn't leave, but little else.  It appeared that that part was too painful.  Dad and Leo tried to explain that they'd landed with little in the way of arms and had to go to where all of the supplies and the rest of the troops were, and I think that he did understand. 

 

And the man who brought together the American paratroopers and the French farmer?  Why, his name is Hans.  He's a German national in his early 60's who spends about half the year in France.  It was because Hans took such a personal interest in the troopers and their story that this all happened.  He later told me that he'd been thinking all night about the vets.  When would they ever get to France again?  He sensed how important the visit was, and he provided interpretation during the whole afternoon.  The irony that a German helped was lost on no one, but it was Hans who first mentioned it.

 

The whole day was a lifetime highlight - it wasn't just the end of a search.  It was a day of generosity and friendship and a new beginning.  We left, our whole carload of people applauding to the waving French family and the German neighbor.

 

I know it's a long story, Ben, but it was really a wonderful experience.

 

My best to all -

 

Claire Giblin, daughter of Allan Johnson, 596

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Dorothy

was a flight nurse  in thr 807 th Medical Air Evacuation Sq during WW 2  My group started in Tunisia  Sept  1943  Moved to Catania Sicily then as the Front Line moved we evacuated the wounded to Malta . Tunisia  Algeries.  After Anzio  we moved to Rome.....6 mo   later   to Siena.   Then      after   D  Day we came home  Aug  1945.  We expected to be sent to the Pacific    ,,,           Before D Day we went to Southern France.   I pray none of you were injured.     We did evacuate many from Southern France.   So many stories from WW 2   Many memories.   Good luck to you all.   Keep your Happy Memories    Dorothy

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Shirley McCarey

Ben ---

 

Do you know of anyone with the 517th or friends of same, that live in the Punta Gorda, Florida area?     I have some dear friends that live in Punta Gorda and since Hurricane Charley, I haven't heard one word from them, phone or email and I am worried.   I'd like to get in touch with anyone in that area, that could possibly know if my friends area was devastated, waiting for electricity, or what!!!!     Just to know something would ease my mind.    If anyone lives in the area, would you please give them my email address and have them drop me a line.   I'd greatly appreciate it.    Thanks much Ben.   

 

Shirley McCarey

Friend of the 517th 

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Bob Barnes.

Hi Ben

    Tusco Net has installed a spam filtering system that stops about 90% of the spam mail.

However it does occasionally stop other mail.  They also  have a quarantine listing that is available for me to check where I can see this mail and then receive or delete.

    Recently they have made it possible to add an address to bypass this filter.  When 744 was on the quarantine list , I  added your address and then received 744 O.K. . Hope this has solved the problem. 

    Have been seeing remarks in e-mails about you moving. Must have missed that one.

    Thanks again for all you do and Hi to Fran from Lu and

                                                                                               Bob