Rhemes France: Koboom

Posted on by Thor

After the Clamerey, France American WWII Camp Reconstruction, I drove north to Rhemes, France. Between Rhemes and Mourmelon, France My father helped run a Cigarette Camp. Cigarette Camps were set up after Germany surrendered to help troops what would be shipping out back to America. The camp the Arthur Thorspecken helped run was Camp Cleveland. I don’t thing Cleveland is a cigarette brand but other camps had names like Lucky Strike and Marlboro. Other camps were also named after major US Cities.

Since the Cigarette camps were at the last phase of the war, I will post the actual sketches done of the location at the end of this series of sketches. My goal should be to keep the order of the sketch chronological as much as possible. However sketching while I wait for a meal to arrive is basic tourist fare and separate from the other sketches being done. Solders who ran Camp Cleveland did get leave on occasion to go to Paris and Rheims France. Some solder in uniform might be seen in any of the local cafes at the time.

In Rhemes France German General Alfred Jodl signed the act of unconditional surrender of the German Wehrmacht to the Allies on May 7, ending WWII in Europe. The signing took place at General Eisenhower’s headquarters in a building now known as Musee de la Reddition. It is a rather dull looking municipal building which is now a museum. Eisenhower really should have had the surrender signed in a grand palace of which there are many. Rhemes often played a prominent role in the coronation of kings of France. My focus wasn’t on the surrender since my father was not there at the signing. Instead I focused on what I could find of the Cigarette Camp he helped run along with C-Company of the 75th Infantry Division.

Oh, for dinner at Kaboom, I had a delicious Pad Thai and a good old American Coke. The guy I sketched noticed me still sketching as he left. He took a photo before heading back out on the street. The section of the city I was in was pretty swanky with a casinos and very fine dining. I am sure it was very different in 1945.

WWII Americans Break Down Camp

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It was getting late in the day of day what the Clamerey France WWII American Camp Reconstruction. The sun was setting and the light turned golden. I was tired but could not stop sketching. I didn’t want to do any more large sketches, so I turned to my small pocket sketchbook. I love this sketchbook, I picked up when I met an author up in Gainesville Florida. On the front of the sketchbook, it says “ The Creative Ramblings of a Restless Mind.” I love that.

All the troops were planning to go out for drinks and dinner after they were done packing up. In this sketch the father was breaking down a large piece of equipment while his son broke down the 50 mm machine gun.  Actually this family was going to stay in camp one more night so they never took down the tent.

A tent did come down behind me and it took three people to fold and flatten the heavy thick canvas. Once folded and rolled up it was placed in a troop carrier truck. The American flag kept waving on the flag pole as the sun set.

Before it got too dark, I was asked to pose with all the troops in front of one of the military vehicles. Every one shouted out the local military drinking song which involved clapping your hands and shouting the lyrics as you rotated your wrists while waving your hands above your head. I sang along, although I didn’t know what the lyrics mean. We all shouted and laughed and then the photo was taken. Look at the light in the photo, it was warm and golden. Such amazing people. I’m in love either way each and every one of them.

Entrance to the Clamercy France American Camp

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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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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.

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.

Never Again

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I went to a conference with several embers of the staff of the Orange County History Center. Daniel Bradfield and Pamela Schwartz gave a presentation about the History Center’s collection efforts after the Pulse Nightclub massacre, where a gunman entered the nightclub with an AK47 and killed 49 people while injuring many others.

Spontaneous and large memorial popped up of flowers and  memorial items related to the victims. The collecting happened in the hottest months of the summer in Orlando. Flowers quickly wilted an died creating a tench that is quite memorable and perhaps unhealthy.

A few people were angered by the staff collecting at the memorial sites, thinking they were steeling items rather than preserving them for history. If the History Center had not collected items they would have all ended in the landfill.

There have been incredible exhibits each year honoring the victims of the mass shooting which happened on June 12, 2016. I sat in and sketched during the oral histories with survivors and family of the victims. Hearing all these life and death stories can be overwhelming and i helped to talk to staff to try and come to terms with the horrible situations that were presented. I can’t say I have fully come to terms with all that I learned about this and other mass shootings. Americas love affair with guns and mass murder is ard to digest.

I was just at a WWII American Military camp reconstruction in Clamercy, France and on a few occasion there were loud noises that must have been fireworks. Such noises can be triggering, making me think I should look for cover.