Late September, 1944, near Cherbourg, France, I left our field hospital unit, where I worked in surgery, to walk the fields surrounded by hedgerows--the same hedgerows so dangerous to our troops fighting the retreating Germans. I walked, with no real goal, except to find wild grapes or berries, forgetting about our standing orders to beware of the anti-personnel mines they left behind.

Happy noise, singing and laughing, attracted me to a sprawling farm house in the distance. I had to investigate. The fun sounds led me to a wide barn opening which, to a city boy from Boston, was a fascinating sight. Inside rested several stone vats, and standing in two of the vats were two women each--all appeared to be in their forties.

Loudly enjoying themselves, they jumped up and down on newly picked red grapes: their feet and legs bare, and their skirts tied high on their thighs. The red wine juice colored their legs to well above the knees. Strong, broad shouldered men marched in from time to time with large containers of freshly picked grapes on their backs. They methodically emptied them into the vats and returned to the vineyard for more, while the women sang and stomped happily.

The juice from the grapes flowed through ducts to collectors leading to the wine making apparatus. The men, dressed comfortably in work clothes, noticed me standing there in uniform and briefly acknowledged my presence, but continued their duties. After a while, they stopped carrying grapes to the vats. The women finished the stomping, hosed the red juice from their still colored legs and left for other chores.

One man waved me to join him at a table, offering a chair. Soon two other men brought non-stemmed glasses and a flask of red wine. No English was spoken, only friendly attempts to communicate. The three Frenchmen made clear their appreciation of me and les Etats-Unis d'Amerique. We drank to their freedom and our coming victory over the Germans. Their tasty red wine helped our understanding and friendship. And I forgot the war for a while.

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