American forces welcomed, and American genorosity

On the whole, the American forces were welcome in North Africa.  Oran gave a terrific demonstration for them.  the first thing into the city after the original few days of fighting was a tank.  It pulled up and stopped in the city square.  A throng gathered around, and the people didn’t know whether the tank was French, British, American, or what.  They were still bewildered by the suddenness of it all.  Finally an officer stuck his head out of the turret and somebody yelled and asked his nationality.  The officer couldn’t understand French, and said something in English.  The crowd recognized his American accent, and then the cheering started.  Women kissed him, and the crowd almost carried him away.  He went around for hours with lipstick all over his face.

Soldiers who were with the first party reported that the town was almost deliriously happy over the Americans’ arrival.  They analyzed the feeling about as follows: Forty per cent of the demonstration was based on the Frenchman’s love for show, for cheering anything that passes; twenty per cent was due to the farseeing knowledge that it eventually meant the liberation of France; and another forty per cent was based on personal and bodily gratitude at the prospect of getting something to eat again.

The Germans had shipped vast quantities of African foodstuffs across the Mediterranean to France and on to Germany.  The people of Oran were in a pitiful condition.  They were starving.  The American occupation naturally stopped the flow to Germany.  Further, our army donated huge food stocks to the city, and the people gradually began to eat once more.  Within a week our soldiers themselves hadn’t much left to eat, and for days they lived on oranges.

Americans, notoriously, are often foolishly generous.  The troops in the first wave came ashore with only canned field rations carried on their backs, yet our soldiers gave much of that food to the pitiful-looking Arab children.  The result was that pretty soon the soldiers themselves hadn’t much left to eat, and for days they lived on oranges.

Ernie Pyle, Here Is Your War (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1943).  Page 25.


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