WWII Memorial Ceremony

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On the second day of the Clamerey, France American Camp Reconstruction,there was a ceremony at the memorial in front of the town church. I sat in the blocked off street before anyone arrived and started to sketch the scene. One American officer was making sure tat no traffic entered the staging area. I was set up and sketching next to one of the steel street barricades.

Then with a thunderous roar of engines, all the military vehicles from the encampment rolled through the town and parked in a row alongside the memorial. All the World War II soldiers piled out of the vehicles and stood at attention beside the memorial. A gentleman in a blue suit must have been the town mayor and he shook hands with everyone.

A procession of French flag bearers lined up across the street and when the moment was right they marched across the street towards the memorial. Men in suits followed closely behind. The mayor stepped up to the microphone and said a few words.

The crowd from behind the barrier moved in front of me, so I was faced with sketching a row of butts. Several people let me scooch forward sitting in front of them. I forgot my pencil case in the rush and a man kindly placed it beside me.

A young girl in her early teens stepped up to the microphone and she read the names of the people from this small French town who had died in World War II. He mom was leaning against one of the street barricades and filming her daughter with her cell phone.

With this ceremony complete, the flag bearers moved off towards the Church of Saint-Cyr and Saint Julitte Cemetery and the crowds dispersed. I followed into the cemetery curious to see what might happen next. The world war II era trucks rumbled off back to camp.

Camp de Reconstruction Militere

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Over lunch in the mess tent, I communicated with one of the woman, who had invited me to sit with the troops for lunch, using Google Translate. The app doesn’t make it easy to switch back and forth between languages but after a while we managed to get a conversation going.

As I started doing the sketch of people eating lunch, she walked over to the woman in my sketch and told her to sit still since I was sketching. The pressure was on to be sure to include that woman in the sketch. Ink is an unforgiving medium but I did manage to get her situated in the sketch.

The woman I had been communicating with let me know that the green car parked across from us belonged to her family. She hoped that I would sketch it and I was glad to oblige. Her car looked like a 1942 Plymouth Staff car. All 1942 Plymouth’s are rare. Car production stopped in mid-February of that year, as factories were converted for the World War II effort. Plymouth built 5,821 such Town Sedans. Five are known to exist; two are operational. Now I am no expert on vintage autos, so I might have the year or model off by a notch but this looks like a rare beauty.

The other vehicle looks like a troop carrier truck with a circular mount above the cab for a machine gun mount. The 75th infantry soldiers would have been moved in such a vehicle. When the engine turns over in these trucks they sound like a true hollow monster.

The cabin in the sketch was a store that showcased products used by the American troops. A person can be seen trying to peer inside, from behind the American flag The radio was broadcasting the song, Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B.

While doing this sketch, a man sat next to me and told me about how overwhelmed he had been on the day the Twin Towers fell in NYC on September 11, 2001. He did business in America and had been to the towers several time. He wasn’t sure which tower he had been in. I told him that I used to drop art portfolios off at the twin towers, and like him I wasn’t exactly sure which tower I had been in. He was sad to see the direction America has been turning in the last few years. There is no open dialogue anymore once an opinion is differed that one’s own the only options seems to be to lash out with violence. We seem to be falling back to the time of 1939 when power hungry men sought opportunities to grab more power, at the expense of others. We seemed to agree that America was united after the fall of the towers but today America is divided as it burns.

The American Camp Mess Tent

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With a sketch finished of the Clamerey France, Camp de Reconstruction Militere, I walked around and noticed a commotion over at the canteen, where food was being prepared for the troops. Officers and soldiers were lining up with their mess kits. Since I was hungry, I lined up as well, though I didn’t have a mess kit.

Florent Laureau one of the main organizers of this American encampment, was dishing up a thick dark dish that he explained was his specialty. He had first prepared the dish on a ship as the ships cook.

One of the women of the camp sort of took in me as her American son. I used Google translate awkwardly to try and communicate and she was a good sport and used it as well to speak to me. It was like handing a grenade back and forth but I did get a chance to tell her a bit about how I am following my fathers WWII footsteps.

When Florent discovered that I was a son of a WWII American infantry officer, he gladly offered me some of his delicious creation. Everyone crowded under a long tent and the conversations grew loud. Everyone sang a boisterous local song  that involved shouting eye, eye, eye, or something similar in French and rotating raised  hands at the wrists. After one stanza, I was singing along and waving my hands as well. I just don’t know what the lyrics meant. I was probably mispronouncing every word, but no one seemed to mind.

All the clothes I brought to Europe were from REI and they are all drab military colors. Though not vintage WWII clothing, I did tend to blend in with all the military khakis. I was offered a glass of wine with lunch. The lunch and the wine were delicious. Once I finished eating, I grabbed my pen and did this quick sketch.

The second I arrived in France, I had my credit card hacked and had no access to the funds I had saved to take this trip. This group changed my mistrust in humanity. I felt a strong bond to these people who blended so well with another time, 80 years ago. My curiosity about my fathers past had brought me home, if only for a moment.

Clamerey France American Military Camp 2

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Once at the Clamerey, France American Military Camp, I could not stop sketching. This large open tent encampment felt like it was for a higher rank officer. There was a poster of Charles De Gaulle, and the French flag was on the flag pole. De Gaulle was he French leader in exile during World War II. One man passing through the camp was the spitting image of the French leader in his crisp clean uniform.

For this sketch I had to sit in the direct sun light. I am something of a vampire so I am always concerned about being burnt to a crisp. I put an eraser on the edge of a tree shadow to my left and after a few minutes noticed that the shadow would be moving towards me as I sketched. I decided to bite the bullet and hopefully the shade would reach me before I became a cinder.

A photographer was joking with me in English. He said, “you can pick any color, as long as it is green!” He was right. I almost emptied out my green pan of color on my pallet. My choices were, warm green, cool green dark green and light green.

Another gentleman was admiring what I was doing, and he introduced me to his grandmother. She whispered to me, “magnifique.” Merci, I replied. This was the first French word I picked up. I said it to every person who stopped to make comments that I could not understand.  Te son later explained that his grandmother had been just a little girl when the Americans came to liberate the city she was in. She vividly remembers a G.I. giving her a candy bar.

The encampment was on a magnificent old French estate. The building was built of stone and the tiles on the roof looked like they had been there for hundreds of years. There were hints of the oncoming fall. The golden sun light illumined the far trees a rich orange color. Some trees were as dark as a coal mine, and other were bright like a lantern.

By the time this sketch was done, I was getting hungry. I started to wonder if there were any restaurants in the small provincial town. I hadn’t noticed any as I drove in from my hotel down south near Dijon. France. I had tried to book an air B&B in a tent but that booking was interrupted when my bank told me my debit card had been hacked. I drove across France not sure if I wold find a place to stay when I got there. The tent air B&B was full when I got there. I sat in the parking lot of a hotel for several hours trying to get funds to cover hotel expenses. The hotel where I made those calls was completely booked. I was advised to stop down the road and thankfully that hotel had a room where I could camp for the night.

An American Camp

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I took a train to Paris, France and then found a station that had a Eurocar rental. I drove the rental across France to a small farming town named Clamery, France which is west of Colmar, France. The directions to the military camp were rater vague, but the town was so small that it was impossible to miss.

I could hear American radio broadcasts from 1945. American officers and soldiers were all around the camp. I et up to sketch this view be cause the entire army had set up for a photo in front to the troop carrier truck to the right. I am not a camera, so knew I could not catch the whole outfit as they posed, but I sett about catching the scene. I jut hoped to catch a few soldiers after the group photo to flesh out my scene.

I originally planned to sketch the Colmar battle sites but found out that my father, Arthur Thorspecken had arrived in Europe just after fighting had stopped in Colmar. The 75th Infantry troops were being rushed up to the Netherlands to replace the British 6th Airborne division. During this time Dutch citizens in German occupied areas were enduring the “Winter of Hunger””. due to severe food shortages caused by the German occupation.

My father hat taken French in Leonia New Jersey High School and he was rather good at picking up the language. I think that is part of the reason he was promoted to become a 1st Lieutenant. I wish he had encouraged me to study French. I certainly could have used the help on this trip. The problem is that Arthur was quickly moved up north of France to Belgium and the Netherlands. He would not have had many opportunities to speak french other than in the port City of Le Havre.

I realized as I was sketching that I was the only one in the camp who fully understood all the lyrics to the songs being played on the loud speaker. Though dress in American Uniforms everyone spoke French. I was the odd duck out, an American in the American camp.

Le Havre: Outdoor Dining

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About February 17, 1945, my father, Arthur Thorspecken had arrived in Le Havre, France. Artur had studied French in High School and had picked up the language easily. Whereas, I had to use Google translator set to camera to interpret the menu, my dad could have read the menu and ordered in French. Of course if he was wearing a uniform that would have given him away as an American. Since the destruction was so widespread, I tend to think that there was no relaxed outdoor dining options.

Le Havre had been liberated by the Allies from the Nazis on September 12, 1944. It was the last Norman city to be liberated. By some accounts the liberation of Le Havre marked the end of the battle of Normandy, France. Le Havre had been liberated for 5 months and 5 days before Arthur Thorspecken arrived. Between 1939 and 1945 there were an estimated 2,900 civilian casualties in Le Havre.

Between 1939 and 1945 about 75,000 Jews were deported to Nazi concentration camps and death camps and 73,500 of them were murdered. During the Vel’ d’Hiv Roundup on July 16, 1942, 13,000 Jews were arrested by the French police. Jews were sent eastward, their destinations unknown.

I would have to assume that Arthur would have been rushed to the front lines as fast as possible to join C-Company of the 75th infantry. After the battle of the bulge, C-Company had just 21 men left of the 200 or more troops and replacements that they once had.

There were four cities on the way up to the posing in the Netherlands where Arthur likely joined the 75th Infantry. I sketched in all four cities but Weert, Netherlands is the command post that Arthur Thorspecken most likely might have reported to before joining his troops on the front. Arthur’s mastery of the French language was likely wasted since he was probably quickly rushed up to the Netherlands where Dutch is the predominant language. Most locals today know quite a bit of English. Every person I have met while sketching in the Netherlands has been able to speak English, which has made my life so much easier.

Le Havre France: Aub Art

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I stayed in Le Havre, France for several days. The first night I arrived late and just crashed. The second evening I went out to the restaurant right next door called Aub Art.It is a newer restaurant that has a bar and some games as well as fine dining. Photos exhibited on the walls were by the father of the woman who opened the fine dining establishment. I was told there is often live music.

There is a second floor as well which seems to be a lounge area. The dining room was empty except for me. I started a sketch thinking people were sure to sow up and fill in the scene at some point. They never did. I dined alone.

The appetizer was a delicious tomato, Mozzarella, Basel dish with balsamic vinegar. That was delicious. The main course was a baked salmon that was also quite good. Water comes in tiny bottles in France and I always seem to be parched so I had several bottles.

After dinner I had to book a room at my next destination. It was while booking that room that I found out my credit card had been hacked. I didn’t loose the card. It never left my sight, but a plane ticket purchase was attempted to Amsterdam. Since I have no plans to fly to Amsterdam, I had to admit to Seacoast Bank that their card had been hacked. Though I told Seacoast bank that I was on vacation, they have been treating me like I am the criminal rather than the victim of fraud. That battle is still ongoing. I still do not have access to the savings that were put aside for this trip.

The plane ticked was purchased in the states. I had a hot dog at the airport and purchased a train ticket to Le Havre and then this dinner at Aub Art. I cant figure out how the card was hacked with so few uses on the trip. Each evening is a series of calls trying to get past robots and pointless questionnaire loops that lead to no solutions. I had Seacoast Bank mail the new credit card the bank sent out to my brother in the north east. He is sending the card to a distant cousin who lives in Germany. In a few days I will be driving to that cousin to pick up the card. Without that piece of plastic I am assumed to be a criminal.

About February 17, 1945, Le Havre Cathedral Notre Dame

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Cathedral Notre Dame in Le Havre, France suffered minor damage from WWII bombings. It is the oldest of the very few buildings in central Le Havre to have survived the devastation of World War II. While 82% of the city was destroyed by Allied bombing raids in the space of 5 days, the cathedral walls remained standing.  Arthur Thorspecken arrived in the port about February 17, 1945.

The church was built in the 16th and 17th centuries. The bell tower dates from 1520 and there are some impact scars from the bombings to this day. It is a Roman Catholic Church. My father was raised Roman Catholic but was excommunicated when he married my mother, Elvira Corr who was Methodist. They were married while my father was still in Military training in North Carolina. My oldest sister, names after Shirley Temple was born in 1943 while Arthur was in training.

As I was doing this sketch, a sea gull waked right up to me and sat down at my feet. I don’t think he was begging for food, he was just curious as to why a human was sitting still for so long. The street I was sitting at was under construction so several cars turned in and realized they had to back out and turn around.  As they did their 5 point turns the tires got close to the seagull and he was ready to move but sat still when he know they tires would not hit him. I respected his bold tenacity.

From this port city, Arthur would have likely been transported with other replacements, by truck to one of several 75th infantry headquarters that were set up as the 75th Infantry troops moved north by train to Panningen Netherlands.They had just finished operations in the Colmar Pocket where they pushed the Germans out of France.At first I thought Arthur Thorspecken  might have been involved in the fighting in  Colmar, but the timing was not right.

In early February 1945, he 75th infantry headquarters were in headquarters were in Charleville-Mézières France, Charleroi Belgium, Namur Belgium, Tongeren-Borgloon Belgium, and Weert Netherlands, before arriving in Penningen Netherlands. I decided to stop in each of these cities since Arthur probably would have reported to a command post before joining the troops assembling in Panningen Netherlands.

On February 17, 1945 the 75th Infantry was assigned to the  Ninth Army, 12th Army Group, atta hed to the British Second Army for operations. Arthur’s first experiences in battle would have been on the west bank of the Maas River. Allied troops held the west bank while the Nazis held the east bank. The Germans would constantly fire mortars at the allies. The unit history I have seemed to paint the Netherlands defensive position as an easy assignment. But as I was looking to learn more online, I found one question on Reddit that wanted to know how his father might have died in the Netherlands. His father served in the 75th infantry as well. There were endless dangers. Had my father not survived, I would not be here.

About February 17, 1945 Le Havre, France

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Traveling to Le Havre, France by train from Paris was a challenge. Le Havre is the French port city that the 75th Infantry history notes at the port troops arrived at from South Hampton, England. I might be flying to England later in this trip to sketch South Hampton and to buy several weeks away from Schengen European countries so that I can attend a huge WWII reenactment in Belgium which features the 75th Infantry. I have 90 days to finish this project and I might need to extend the time spent by skipping away to England for a time.

I got several hundred dollars in Euros at an ATM machine in the airport for emergencies. Today at a restaurant the waitress told me they don’t take credit cards. I tried a credit card, a debit card, and neither worked. Thankfully I still had a few Euros inn my pocket. I spent an afternoon trying to get Euros from Western Union but was tld, they can not use a credit card to exchange money. It has to be cash to cash. I don’t have much American cash, s I am stuck.

My first day in Le Havre, I sketched this WWII Memorial, called the Monument Aux Morts. It was built in 1924 to honor the dead from WWI but later plaques were added t honor the dead from WWII. This monument would have been standing when my father, Arthur Thorspecken first arrived in Europe. It commemorates the 6,638 residents of Le Havre who gave their lives in the first World War, the Second World Wat and in Indochina and Algeria. One plaque was a tribute to the resistance fighters of Le Havre who were deported and died for France during WWII. Another plaque was for the Soldiers who died for France between 1939 and 1945. Another plaque was for the civilian victims who died during theh bombings of Le Havre during WWII.

Besides the dark metal plaques at the foot of the sculpture the large stone base was covered with names of the dead carved into the stone. Lady liberty spreads her wings on one end of the sculpture while the grim reaper bows his shrouded head looking over the names of the dead.

This was a good first day of sketching. At night I ate at a restaurant right in the building I was staying in. Then I went upstairs and started to book a room for the next day. The next stop was several hundred miles east of Le Havre just West of Colmar France. While trying to book a room, Seacoast Bank contacted me and said they suspected fraud with my Debit card. I had only bought a train ticket and several meals. The Le Havre room had been booked from the United States. Looking through the expenses they questioned, everything checked out except an attempted purchase of a plane ticket to Amsterdam. I had no intention of flying to Amsterdam, so sure enough someone had somehow hacked into my debit card account. Maybe I should not have ordered a Nathans Hot Dog at the airport. I still had the card, but was told I had to cut it up. I had a Revolut card that I decided to get for emergencies before I left the states. It now became my life line. Seacoast Bank however is holding my savings hostage and will not let me transfer funds to my Revolut Visa travel card. I also have an American Express card but it keeps failing, when I try to use it. Every day has become a battle, wondering if I will end up homeless in Europe with no access to my bank account. Raymond, a service rep for my bank refused to help saying, “I don’t know anything about that Revolut card and neither does my supervisor.” It seems ignorance is a sad excuse for poor costumer service.  Though the victim of card fraud, I feel like I am being treated as the criminal. Fourteen days into my Europe WWII project and the banking battle continues.  I have started eating fallen pears and apples to keep food expenses down so that the funds don’t run out before a solution is found. I just keep moving forward and hopefully it will all work out.  “Always get there somehow.”

Waiting for the Flight to Paris

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The flight out of Orlando went to Atlanta, Georgia. There was a several hour layover before the flight to Paris. I had read warnings that flight to and from Paris would be delayed once the air traffic controllers went on strike. Thankfully that strike would start a week after my flight. I did not book a return flight since I am not exactly sure where I will be once the 75th Infantry journey is complete. I know for sure that I will end up in Germany. I just need to figure out which airport is best to fly out of. that is a choice for another day. My goal right now it so keep pushing forward, following in my father’s footsteps.

I thought my subject for this sketch was sound asleep. He must have had one eye open however since he stopped by to see how the sketch turned out as I was packing it away. This is Robert Varis who is a very accomplished artist. He was returning from a convention where he sold his work which is bold and fluid n a style that is easy to read from a mile away.

I wish I had the ability to drop off to sleep like this. My mind races at a thousand miles an our contemplating all that can go wrong. I can’t turn that sound track off an relax. Trust me, if things can go wrong, they do go wrong in my world. Every sketch is just a compilation of thousands of mistakes.

There was a duty free store being Robert as e slept. Do people actually buy duty free alcohol at the airport? What is the point? I didn’t have a lick f alcohol the entire flight, though I bet a single glass of red wine would have knocked me out. But would it e a good cup of wine? If it was a fine beautifully blended wine I might have considered it. I think airplane wines come in a box. If I drank wine then I might have to pee before we landed.  Those airplane toilets have that strange trap door and I always think it might rip open and I would fall thousands of feet to my frozen death. I didn’t pee for 8 hours. I am quite proud of myself, my body couldn’t have done that months ago when I had a softball sized prostrate making me have to pee like a pregnant woman every half hour or so.

When we landed, I got several hundred dollars in Euros as pocket change for emergencies. I should have gotten more. It turns out the trip has been one endless emergency.