After sketching the memorial at the Clamerey church, I made my way over to the entrance to the American camp. There was a sentry on duty and two re-enactors stood in conversation on the side. An American flag was always raised on the center of the camp. Radio broadcasts played the lively upbeat music of the era. Since everyone was French I didn’t think they understood the lyrics fully. Actually every person who spoke with me knew far more English than I knew French. I have been studying German, but it didn’t seem to fit to speak German in the American camp.
Many people from the ceremony were having wine and pastries in a tent to my left. One of the soldiers asked if I would like a drink and he brought me a cup of wine. He then stopped over several times with plates of pastries. All were delicious. The local mayor continued to circulate in the crowd and shake hands.
People often stood behind me and commented. I would always have to apologize and put my hand to my heart and say I am an American. Nine time out of ten, we would the have a short conversation in English. I need to make it a goal to learn more French. I am studying German with Duolingo but progress is slow. Learning new names and picking up a new language come slowly for me.
Every moment of this American encampment was pure gold. I didn’t stop sketching for a moment, other than walking to a new location. The real magic however came in meeting the soldiers and support staff who ran this camp. They all made me feel truly welcome, like I was one of the troops. If I had brought the WWII helmet from my father then I would have fit in even better. That thing however is heavy. I can imagine carrying it around in my pack. The laptop and iPad I am carrying now are already too heavy.
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