The Acting 1st Sergeant leaves Omaha Beach
by 40 and 8 boxcar (could hold 40 men or 8 cattle)
traveling inland while flatcars traveling the
other way were loaded with Nazi prisoners.
Religion listed on my dogtags? None.
This building on Rue Voltaire was headquarters of the Adjutant
General's Office,
Hq. Oise, where I was the AG's Chief Clerk.
Sgt. Smith hard at work. . . .
My adopted French family, Maman et Papa René Picard (1883-1954) -
from Iowa my parents sent me my dress suit, which I gave to my
quasi-brother Jean-Marie but sat for a photo. Papa, a retired
commandant in the French Foreign Legion, was concerned that
it was illegal for a GI to be wearing civilian clothing. Americans,
I told him, are notorious for breaking rules. Then I really
risked getting caught by having Jean-Marie take a quick
snapshot of me at the Reims Cathedral.
1944
Simone and Jean-Marie Picard,
my French sister and brother - they
called me Jacques-François Picard.
L'Arc de Triomphe - et combien, m'lle?
C'est Pigalle, et c'est formidable!
Aachen, Germany, when I visited.
La Belle France. . . .
The small Jeeps were called Peeps.
I worked in the Little Red Schoolhouse,
where the Nazis actually signed the
surrender treaty.
As his chief clerk, I typed and initialed this from General Eisenhower
to
my own Adjutant General of Hq. Oise.
Parades were common, but this was a grand send-off in a parade through
the streets of Reims.
In the above parade and in the avant-garde with me was a Soviet soldier
and also a French gal with bare breasts. Naturalment!
Bringing home the booty. . . .
In 1994, I returned to Omaha Beach for the 50-year
ceremony. That's Bill
Clinton and Hillary (in the yellow raincoat). In the background
are
the warships, and the weather was much the same as I remembered
it a half-century prior.
I took this closeup of President Clinton. Hillary is directly
behind him.
Many of the world's leaders were on hand, including radio announcer
Walter Cronkite. On the beach itself, I saw the above 4-star general
and reamed him out because his shoes had sand on them - he took it
in good humor, fortunately. When he inquired about D-Day, I said,
"But isn't there 'Don't show, don't tell' now?" Then I added that
I was gay
in 1944 and gay in 1994. Without saying anything he shook my hand
and made a graceful exit.
