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Bringing Up Father
THE CHINA MAIL, APRIL 1, 1940
DAUTRY HAS A PRIVATE
WIRE TO LONDON
but
SAW Paris in the first sunlight of a new The law which gave the people of Stras- spring. Alsace, where I visited Frenchbourg four hours notice to vacate their troops in the front line, was in the grip of homes imposes heavy penalties if they re- a hard winter. Breat was in its mantle of turn. They cannot remove anything perpetual greyness, ·
the most essential of their belongings.
Two hundred, and thirty thousand people lived in Strasbourg. They all left together. The Commandant stood at the bridgehead, beneath the flags of Britain and France, and said simply: "War is no joke. It is not an arm-chair job. I cannot go to my home, even if I was allowed to do so."
Twelve hours previously one of the' Com-
For ten days I talked to French men and women, to hardworking Ministers, watchful soldiers, Intrepid airmen, and modest sailors. And this I now know. Calm broods over France. But it is the cold calm of doter mination.
It is based on France's deep confidence in her power to resist the enemy on her fron- tler, and in the strength of Britain's commandant's, lieutenants had been shot by a radeship in arms.
The new spring that I met in Paris may bring war.
sniper.
I peered beneath a corner of a canvas screen, and looked along Kehl Bridge,
Two hundred and forty yards away was another canvas screen. Behind it I could distinguish the movements of men. Ger-
Many who are in a position to judge, in- cluding soldiers in the front line, do not think that there will be war on the West- | ern Front for some time to come. Some soldiers even say that they don't believe Their duty is to watch, without rest, Stras- there will ever be war there at all. Another bourg-the City of Ghosts. front must be found,
But France can take no chances. She has mobilised herself completely: Paris marches with London. Edouard Daladier, France's Prime Minister, talks most days to Mr. Chamberlain, Britain's Prime Min- ister, on the telephone.
UNITY
There never was auch agreement between two capitals, such understanding between two Empires. Many times I felt, as I moved round Paris, that I was back Whitehall.
in
The trial by fire and suffering has yet to come, but I could not, escape the feeling, as others have said, that in this unity there is the foundation of the new Europe.
I felt it most when Raoul Dautry put out his small hand, with its perfectly manicur- ed nails, and grasped one of the three tele- phones on his desk.
He told me that this was his direct line to London. By calling Whitehall he could ask for anything he wanted from our manu- facturers, and get it by return of post, so to speak.
He, too, was amazed at the growth of this new spirit, and was obviously struck by its potentialities.
He told me rapidly of France's war el- fort, begged me to study the output of small factories, and to disregard the big ones. He exuded the confidence of the business man who has. laid all his plans and sits waiting for the result.
Raoul Doutry is France's Minister of Armaments. His small, neat figure, · his darting brown eyes, his staccato phrases, with their humour, belle his 59 years.
He rises early each day. I was asked to be at his office at 9 o'clock in the morning. I was warned not to be late.
The Minister of Armaments had been working for two hours when I arrived. Se- cretaries were coming and going from his
room.
ity.
mana.
The stillness of Strasbourg Was only equalled by the silence" which surrounded the advanced post set in a French forest,
By-
Wilson Broadbent
which I visited with a patrol of Chasseurs Alpin.
The night before I played kiss-in-the-ring with French soldiers, drank beer out of a tin hat, in final celebration of the Croix de Guerre which had been conferred on the lithe, dark-complexioned Captain.
OFF AT DAWN' Next morning, as dawn was breaking, 1 motored through the French Lines,
I saw few soldiers, but I was told that the French Army eyes and the ears of the never rest. At any moment there could be massed at a given point a force sufficient to meet the largest attack.
We came to a little town and pulled up outside a house with a courtyard. The sen try presented arms.
We met another French commandant, He had' the healthy complexion of a man who lives always in the open air, a sportsman.
He greeted me genially. He might have been my host at a shooting party some where in England, judging by the way he talked,
He glanced at the sky, speculated on the weather, and then said suddenly, "Well, we must be off.**
It was not until I heard a click, and turn- ed my head to see the young officer by my There was an atmosphere of activ-side slipping a clip of cartridges into an automatic, that I appreciated the need for watchfulness,
I waited. Dautry, who prides himself on punctuality, was three minutes late. He apologised.
This swarthy faced man, with the rest- less vigour of one in the early forties, re- organised France's State railways, and made them run to time, so that even in these war days when there is so much pressure of traffic they are never late.
I travelled more than 3,000 miles on these railways, and there was never any uncer- tainty, never any delay.
Dautry is trying to do the same with France's war supplies as he did with her railways. War supplies must be ready. [They must arrive on time,
He has mobilised all the small factorica in France. They are pouring out supplies. NON-STOP FACTORIES
I visited small and large factories. They work 24 hours of the day. In one vast fac- tory on the edge of Paris work has not stopped since the war started.
Not even the black-out has been allow. ed to slow down work, as it has in the case of many British factories.
Paris is still & City of Light compared
with London. The cafes are not as full as they were before the war, nor do they re- main open after midnight.
But Paris has not lost its glitter. Thero. is still the spirit of galety, leavened with a new alertness.
Paris is still preparing for war. I want ed to see the war, so I went to a little house on the Kehl Bridgehead, in the dead City of Strasbourg.
There sat the Commandant of the French troops.. He has lived in ́a comfortable apartment in a fashionable part of Stras- bourg for 15 years, but he cannot visit his deserted home now,
NO "JOKE" FOR HIM.
We were walking up a hillside which was covered in snow. The officer began to talk. He warned me that we were going to a spot where one must move with care, talk only in whispers, and keep as close. as possible to the trees.
We entered the wood.. Through it, as far as, the eye could see, there ran a wide path. The sun shone brightly on the clean, un- marked snow.
SHADOWS PROTECT US ....But we could not walk along this path. We had to cling to the cold shadow of the dark beeches and firs..
The party moved along, in Indian file. Every few yards we had to stop and wait while the 15 soldiers 20yds, in front searched the trees, bushes, and every obstacle ahead.
The Commandant carried a walking stick. He smoked a big-bowled pipe, with a long curly stem. Again I could not help looking on him as the genial host 'at # shooting party.
The soldiers were spread fan-wise in front of us, and signalled to one another by low whistles. The silence was broken some- times by the crack of a twig, at others by the rattle of a rifle bolt.
Halfway through the woods we came upon a wide track. The day before a German patrol had been there and captured two French soldiers. Our patrol would not allow track had been thoroughly searched. us to move on" for 20 minutes, until this
Eventually we moved again: Another mile trudging through in of snow brought us to the outpost,· sürrounded by barbed wire, through which, we had, to manoeuvre Uke Hampton Court maze, abuz
200 YARDS AWAYAN Thirty men, were stationed in this outpost,
(Continued on Page 11)
By George McManus
BY JOVE-ISHT-
IT SPIFFY HERE
IN MINNEAPOLIS?
I LOVE SNOW-
DON'T YOU?
YES-IF DON'T HAVE TO SHK
Í SUPPOSE YOU'RE GOIN' TO TELL ME NOW. THAT THE SNOW : IN LONDON 18 BETTER THAN THE SNOW THA HAVE HE
- BUT
19
IN
LONDON IS
THE FOGGIEST
THE WORLD.
50?
THAN
IT WAS SO
0