Joyce's War Read Free Page B

train about 10pm, satisfied that we were actively on the last stages of our journey to Palestine.
    But it was not to be so – we were told at about 6pm that we must detrain at Le Mans and remain there about 24 hours, possibly more, as Mussolini had just made a speech which boded ill for the future action of Italy. We left the train at 6.30am and, climbing into a very high motor lorry, we were driven some miles into the town of Le Mans, which was fairly large, with a lovely cathedral and rather nice square with pleasant gardens. We were taken to the best hotel – De Paris – and given coffee and croissants and allotted bedrooms. Bill Williams, my Australian colleague, and I found ourselves on the fourth floor and fell into bed thankfully, sleeping soundly. We soon heard rumours that our stay would be more lengthy than we first thought. 6
    The weather is perfect, warm and sunny, and the gardens are colourful with laburnum and wisteria and hawthorn blossom and the chestnut trees are ablaze with thousands of candles. We go shopping, buying always unnecessary things as one does in a strange town; we walk out into the country along the quiet roads, passing villagers, farmers and the bright French children who often air their English by greeting us with good morning or afternoon. We are delighted and in turn try out our rusty French on them, often with doubtful success. We managed to procure some cider at one place and drink it at leisure under the chestnut trees in the garden while the flowers drop down into our glasses. We visit the various churches, some of them very old and partially restored. There was one, most lovely, L’Eglise de la Visitation, in the square, quite small and very light inside. We sometimes went in and just sat there, for the peace of it all. Mona and I had a delightful day at Beaumont, about 30 kilometres out of Le Mans. It was just a village with a river and the inevitable bridges, but the sun was shining and we lay in the lush grass on the riverbank and ate our lunch, which consisted of croissant and camembert, gateaux and beer, nothing else liquid being attainable locally. Mona sketched the bridge and the water wheel in the summer afternoon and I read aloud from my anthology called Peace : quite a lovely peaceful day. Then the ride back to Le Mans, along the straight poplar lined road, with the apple trees in blossom in the fields and the hawthorn and lilies fragrant in the cottage gardens.
    Tours was another memorable day. We set off like sardines in a tin, in tiny third-class carriages, with country folk and French hoi polloi and babies tightly jammed together. I stood most of the way and watched the countryside pass by, the eternal poplars and quiet winding roads, sometimes the bed of a river, a chateau – all rather reminiscent of our last summer’s holiday. Then Tours – a large, well set out town with fine buildings. We did ourselves well at lunch at Hotel de l’Univers. Then to the cathedral: 12th century, very fine indeed, with two bell towers. We climbed one tower, over 300 steps, and surveyed the surrounding countryside: the Loire a broad full stream spanned by several bridges, the country rather flat but beautifully green. Chestnuts in flower wherever we looked. We crossed the river later and poked about the old quarter of the town which was most interesting. We went back to Le Mans in the golden evening and, as we approached the town, we saw the large aerodrome floodlit, which struck us as strange when everything was supposed to be blacked out. Everywhere we went we found some change because of the war – patisseries and gateaux were only sold on three days of the week; meat, spirits and cider on other days.
    We were allowed Ff35 messing allowance per day, but this didn’t cover our meals. We rarely had breakfast and often had lunch or dinner in our rooms. This usually consisted of rolls or croissant and butter and cheese, followed by gateaux or fruit and assisted by cider or some