What a great day! Sunny. Bright. Very unusual. You could see Mont Blanc (Switzerland) in one direction and Lake Geneva (France/Switzerland) in the other from the beautiful bluff of Feternes where a bomber had bellied in during World War II.
It was July 2003, the 100th anniversary year of the celebrated first powered flight, and the 56th anniversary year of General Yeager being the first to fly faster than the speed of sound.
We were told the following:
It was the bomber crew’s first or second mission and the pilot’s first. They all had civvies with them – appearing as though they planned to not return. When they landed, the Maquis was there within minutes. The crew was trying to burn the plane, saying they had been shot down but here was the wrong direction from their mission. The Maquis fought with them, telling them that they had the Germans halted at the bridge miles and miles away, that the Maquis could use the fuel and the parts.
The Maquis also asked the crew to stay and fight because the Allies and the Maquis were winning – the Americans were only a 100 miles away.
The crew said but we are in Switzerland and free. The Maquis told them, no you are in France. One member of the Maquis told me they almost got into fisticuffs over this.
The crew insisted on being taken to Switzerland 20 miles away. The Maquis tried to dissuade the crew – the Swiss will intern you. The Americans are no more than a few weeks away. Stay and fight with us – or we will hide you no problem.
But the crew insisted on getting to Switzerland where they thought they had reached to avoid the war, so eventually the Maquis drove them to Switzerland and just as the Maquis had warned, the Swiss interned the crew. One surviving crew member, the navigator of all people, told us he had been interned for 4 1/2 months at which point he heard the Americans were near so he walked out of the camp (apparently no one stopped him) and joined up with the Americans.
We saw the exhibit – and photos – several of the Maquis were still alive. They would point to their pictures. There were several photos of the plane on the plain on the bluff in Feternes. There was no evidence of the plane being shot or disabled.
One gal, who had been instrumental in the Maquis in that region, told us she rather missed the parade of the Americans after they liberated the town. She was 30 years old and having her first child. But in typical southern, country French humor, she said but it was okay – the cheers of the crowd drowned out her screams of labor. Or I think that’s what she said.
She now ran a cheese shop and we tasted all kinds of cheese. What a lovely lady. I hope someone wrote down her story and stories. She adored General Yeager and they bantered in great fun.
10,000 villagers from all over were there to see the knighting of General Chuck Yeager and two others. The French Air Force band played La Marseillaise (the French National Anthem) and then the Star Spangled Banner.
We were led over to the six chairs – there were three being honored. Two were becoming Chevaliers, Knights. General Yeager was becoming an Officier (Officer), the highest honor a non-French citizen could receive.
The American Air Attaché to the American Embassy in Paris, France, and his son were in attendance. The son had piercings all over his face. General Yeager told the boy he was a disgrace or some such words and then asked the Colonel why he allowed his son to do that to himself. The Colonel’s only response was: Oh, you know kids today, General.
I looked at the teenager and said: “OW!” And then: “OW OW OW OW OW!”
That seemed to have more of an effect on him and he, now embarrassed, lamely said, “It didn’t hurt.”
Me: “It hurts ME just looking at you!” as I smiled. And then: “Why? Were you drunk when you did it?”
He smiled his answer – yes, he was.
Me: “OW!”
Also in attendance were some luminaries of the region including a nephew of President Roosevelt and his French wife. The French wife expressed her opinion which was apt: “So you let your child mutilate his body, that is your choice. But you do not bring him to an event like this of great decorum to represent the US government.”
I started trailing behind a little taking in the whole scene: the green field which the town of Feternes had bought so that no one could put a mall on this spot, beautiful blue sky, bright sun, snow-covered Mont Blanc, calm Lake Geneva or Lake Leman as the French call it….
The two soon to be knights and their wives sat down as did General Yeager, all taking up 5 of the only 6 chairs anywhere on the field.
I walked over to take my seat but found it occupied by President Roosevelt’s grandnephew. He had not even offered (my) the seat to his wife. She took her place behind him.
I contemplated the situation – heck I had removed (politely but insistently) the likes of Andy Warhol from his (my) seat when I was 21. This day though, I decided I’d probably rather walk around a little any way…
Yet, I think I missed a great opportunity – it would have been interesting to see his reaction if I had actually confronted him and asked him to give me my seat.
Some of the organizers made short speeches. Gen Yeager said he’d like to speak. Oddly, they had not expected this. Everyone was thrilled. None of the other honorees were interested in speaking.
Now remember, this was in 2003 after the Iraq War and while the coalition was still there. “France” had been unsupportive.
When we told people here in the US we were going to France, anti-French sentiments ran high. General Yeager’s response was always: “They saved my life” as indeed they did after he was shot down by the Germans during World War II.
And I would always respond: “Have you only been to Paris or the Cote d’Azur or Biarritz?” This, because some Parisians can be, not always, a bit snooty, a bit dismissive, or controlling/commanding/judgmental, rude and/or unpleasant. I would tell the US person that if s/he traveled in the countryside, s/he might have a different opinion of the “French”. They can be very funny, playful, fun, warm, entertaining, kind. Like any group of people, there are also all kinds.
And anti-American sentiments can be found within different groups as well.
So as General Yeager walked across part of the field to the podium, I wondered what he was going say….And wondered if I should go with him to translate into French.
General Yeager led with: “Let’s forget our governments!”
Ten thousand cheers went up and the ice was broken as only General Yeager can do. No translation needed.
He then continued on to relate how he had been shot down, worked with the Maquis as they saved his life and got him to the Pyrenees over which he escaped the Nazis and eventually returned on combat.
The French Air Force band played while the minders positioned General Yeager and the others to be knighted. A retired French General (the same level as General Yeager is why this man) had the honors.
The French General pulled the sword out of the scabbard and tapped General Yeager with it, first on one shoulder, then the other, returned it to his scabbard, kissed General Yeager on either cheek (traditional French greeting and goodbye), congratulated and welcomed him as a new Officer of the Legion of Honor (Legion d’Honneur), and then moved on to the next honoree.
General Yeager very quietly bent down, picked up the scabbard, and handed it to the French General. The French General quietly received it and moved on to knight the remaining two honorees, as knights.
The French band played some more – they were outstanding. We had attended a concert by them the night before. All the honorees had been invited. All were quite tired and the concert was a bit late given the events of the day and of the next day.
I convinced (didn’t take any convincing really) General Yeager that it would be impolite not to go even if for a short time. The others didn’t care.
We arrived at the hall and everyone was very pleasant surprised and thrilled. It took a while for the concert to start – it was about an hour late.
I turned to our host, a high level politician, and said: “Much as we are enjoying this wonderful extravaganza, at the first break or intermission, we are going to sneak out – it’s a bit late for us. I hope no one will mind or think it rude and hope they and you will excuse us.”
He turned to me and said, “We certainly understand and are most honored you made the effort to come at all. I will sneak out with – I mean – escort you out.”
We laughed.
The concert was innovative, and very entertaining. I really didn’t want to leave but if we didn’t, we might sleep through the next day’s ceremonies even if we attended (asleep with our eyes open).
After the honorees were knighted, and the band finished playing for the ceremony, the attendees made their way to the tent where there were refreshments. Seriously delicious food. This was France, near Evian from whence the bottled water comes.
The French General approached us – he was amazed that an American, a member of the military had been so elegant and demur in saving the French General from the embarrassment of fumbling for his missing sword. I was translating this to General Yeager.
French General: I hadn’t realized the sword had missed my scabbard when I was putting it back in.
General Yeager responded: I couldn’t help but notice when it was sticking out of my foot.
As I translated I could see the French General’s shock, double checking my French to see if I had intended to say what he thought I said, and re-thinking again his assessment of Americans and the American General.
Ah but then he saw General Yeager and I were laughing, teasing him. He slowly and at first reluctantly joined in.
Others approached us. I tried to get food as the servers passed by but by the time we had reached the dessert table it was all gone. Misery! 
Later that evening, General Yeager gave a talk to the pilots. They had combined this day’s ceremony with an air show which the organizers creatively called Air Poche One; a play on Air Force One and “poche” means “pocket” in English.
Gen Yeager had asked me to translate. I had not spoken French in 4-6 years and prior to that perhaps only once in 17 years. There was an American there who said he was fluent in both languages so I asked for his help.
The first thing he said was: I was born so fer (far) up a holla’ (holler), they had to pipe daylight in.”
I told him: “Heck, I can’t translate that into English, let alone French!”
Neither could the self-proclaimed bilingual American. Turned out he wasn’t as bilingual as he thought.
So I continued translating.
When we got to breaking the sound barrier, I was translating literally – the flying tail.
The French pilots were giving slight looks of confusion. Except one. Relieved, I asked him to translate. I listened carefully so I would know how to say it all in French in future.
Well dang if he didn’t say exactly what I had been saying. I mean use the exact same words and phrases. I wondered if the difference was that they had now heard it for the third time and now realized that I had meant what I was saying or they trusted the Frenchman or his accent was better than mine ha ha.
Again, relieved and happy to sit down and just listen to General Yeager and the translation, I put it to the audience: Would you prefer he translate? I’d be happy to sit down.
They replied: No, no! You’re funny. We prefer you.
Thank you.
I think.
c. GCYI