More on North Africa

We left the dock and walked around the warehouses taking a good look at the Moroccan soldiers. We walked a mile through a portion of Casablanca. The odors drifting across our path were both familiar and strange. Some were pungent beyond description. There was the hot, dry scent of endlessly stirred-up dust, the rancid, sour smell of aged urine, the scented fragrance of Arab cigarettes, and the heavy, rank odor of manure. As we walked through the brightly colored world of Casablanca, we took in sights as vivid as a travelogue. In fact, our walk was a miniature travelogue embellished with sound and smell.

The idealists among us were somewhat shocked to discover that the officers were to be separated from the men. Being a combat team, we somehow had thought we'd live and work together. A few enlightened weeks later, to say nothing of twenty years later, such an idea seems fantastic-fantastically naive. But some of us believed it.  I believed it.  When I saw privates being detailed to carry officers' bags, I spit. Hours after we had landed overseas, military courtesy and   garrison life were   running smoothly. The caste was set-so that never the twain did meet.

The sun went down that first night in Africa, and it was cool.

The bugler sounded taps at ten o'clock, but most of us were long since asleep-asleep on the solid earth, extra good after twelve days and nights in the bottom of a ship moving through dangerous waters.

My first dawn in Africa brought C-rations and hot coffee. Trucks were rolling in through clouds of dust. Arabs, walking or riding small donkeys, were at that time a strange and novel sight. They moved along the edge of the camp out into fields or on into Casablanca. The subject was bright, the sky an exquisite blue. Water for working was distributed, but for noncoms only. Orders came to reset our tents, so they were all in a smart row.  We were reminded that this was still the army and that we were expected to salute. Once in a while the Arab boys saluted, too; that helped. By evening we had "prepared" food. Thus began five months of food, much of which, even when mixed with sand, was very good. But it was totally devoid of freshness. Everything, meat, vegetables, fruit, and milk, came out of cans. A certain monotony resulted.