Chapter 3: Mamia-Oujda [Algeria]

Whoever selected our campsite at Marnia in Algeria was well acquainted with Hell. He undoubtedly had been there and was determined to share his hateful experience with others.

What I found indigestible were the parades. We were the "proud recipient'' of virtually every dignitary in northwestern Africa. They flew in from all over the Mediterranean to have a look
at us. Most evenings we stood retreat. For a series of five or six days we practiced parading. We drove to dust-filled, well-broiled parade grounds in convoys of trucks, eating up gasoline as if it came from spigots straight out of the earth. We took out days of time, walked hours in the burning, brain-beating sun, to entertain general after general, foreign and American. We shined our boots, licked and
spit, until we were a damn fine sight. Just what this had to do with preparation and winning a war I never really understood. It was over a year later in England, after we invaded Normandy, at another series of parades, that I got the message from General Eisenhower.