 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
Champagne from a Canteen Cup
About the third day several of us got together and mooched enough gas for a
round trip in a jeep to the nearby city of Reims, with the famous cathedral where the
kings of France had traditionally been crowned. [Napoleon I broke precedent by having
himself crowned Emperor in the church of Notre Dame of Paris. Some say that is why he
didn't last.]
I don't remember who all went: I think Doug Myers, now a major, and Capt Don
Thomson were along, and Joe B. Davis and another enlisted man, a French Canadian by
birth, who could act as interpreter if necessary. But when we got there, the enlisted men
showed little enthusiasm for touring the cathedral, so we separated and went off in
different directions, leaving the jeep unguarded in the square in front of the cathedral.
This was strictly against regulations; the vehicle didn't even have a key, and anyone could
have driven it away. However, the local populace still regarded us as liberators and held
us in a respect bordering on awe, and we thought public opinion would keep it safe.
We three officers took off our helmets as we entered the building, and started to
wander through, stretching our necks to look at the inside of the roof, soaring above us,
and what we could see of the boarded-up stained glass windows. There were many nooks
and side rooms branching from the main nave, and we wished we understood more about
what we were looking at.
Then a graying French gentleman and a teen-age boy approached us. The boy
asked in his high-school English if they might be permitted to show us around. Of course
we were delighted, and said so.
And we learned about true French hospitality. They took us all around the
cathedral, then drove us in their own car to the local palace where the kings had stayed
when they visited Reims. There was an admission charge, which the gentleman insisted
on paying, and we got to see everything, including the one-way mirrors which were used
to spy on nobility of dubious loyalty.
By this time it was late afternoon, and they invited us up to their apartment for
refreshments. We met Madame and exchanged compliments in pidgin French and
fractured English. The boy was sent to the cellar for a bottle of champagne, and when he
returned, he was sent back for a bottle of the good champagne. We admired the flavor,
bouquet, and whatever else we thought was customary to admire about wine. Then we
asked where we might be able to buy some of the good stuff to take back to camp with
us.
Our host was suddenly alert. "Why from my brother-in-law, of course!" he said -
or words to that effect. He got on the phone at once and called the Pommery et Greno
champagnery, which was about to close for the night, and got his brother-in-law to stay
overtime. He hustled us down and we met the brother-in-law, who asked if we would like
to try a sample before we purchased. When we said yes, he carefully loosened the wire
holding the cork in place, and extracted the cork.
93
|
 |
|