PARIS, EPISODE 0NE Time came in early September for the Squadron to move nearer the retreating German Army. We relocated to Villa Coublay Airfield on the outskirts of Paris. When we became operational once more, the Sq. Commander informed Capt. Tom and I that we were grounded. Orders were coming from Hq. sending us home to the U.S. He said he could never forgive himself if we got shot-down knowing our relief Orders were in progress. By this time, Tommy and I had been with the Gp. for one year and eleven months. So we spent a week in Paris , checking in at Villa Coublay dailey for mail, pay advances and a good meal. Tommy and I began our Base of Operation from the Cafe d 'La Pais on the Champs Elysees a few blocks down from the Arc de Triomph. After a couple of days we moved to the , no doubt newly named, "American Bar". It was just a few blocks away and resembled a U.S.Cocktail Lounge-small bar with brass footrail--comfortable chairs and small tables. The most important piece of furniture was a Baby Grand piano. Tommy had been a professional musician, doing some arranging for big time bands and playing piano in Cocktail Lounges. So, when he sat down to play, all of the femmes surrounded him leaving me alone at the bar, keeping company with a liter of Champagne. One afternoon an Officer from a Scottish Regiment came in and we entered into conversation.He was something to behold. In full Regalia--tam,shawl,kilts,hose and dagger. He asked me if I had ever visited La Maison de'l ????.[I wish I could recall the complete name.] I replied--no, what is it? At that time Brothels were legal in Paris, although closed down soon after the U.S. troops arrived. I informed him that I certainly had no reason to spend money in such an establishment. He explained that courtesy tours through the facility were free and I really should go for the education. Sounded like an interesting way to spend some time , so I pried Tom away from the Piano. We arrived at La Maison--after a short walk. It was a beautifully landscaped three-story house with a huge wooden and carved 5x10 foot entrance door. We rapped on the door and the short,plump Madam invited us in. We hastely informed her that we were only looking, not buying. She motioned us down a long hallway---wide with three crystal chandeliers, polished paneling and plush carpeting.At the end of the hall and to the left was a room with overstuffed chairs and small table at each. To the right was a larger room that looked like a dance floor. Madam seated each of us in a chair,,clapped her hands. and a scantily clad maid brougt us a glass of Champagne. we sat, sipped and chatted with Madam---what we could find to talk about eludes me. When our glass was empty she motioned to follow her, and we inspected one of the bedrooms. Luxurious cannot describe the furnishing. A _tall_ fourposter bed, without canopy,plush carpets and waist high wooden paneling. I do not recall that their were any windows. The ceiling and all four walls above the paneling were mirrors. We returned to the small setting room, Madam clapped her hands again and a dozen scantily clad girls magically appeared on the dance floor. Holding hands, they formed a circle and to the tune of a scratchy phonograph, began to prance,dance,wiggle and jiggle around the room. We thanked Madam and left. All of the above was written so that I could get to the REAL story. The Manageress of the American Bar was a very attractive Mademoiselle with a cozy little apartment over the Bar. Tom had been romancing her and as the three of us sat at a table, Tom asked if she had ever visited La'Maison???. She had not but was willing to take the tour with us after closing time. Madam greeted us as before and we went through the same ritual . Except when the girls began their wiggle and jiggle dance , Tom completely lost it! He arose from his chair, bid me and Madamoiselle goodby, selected one of the girls from the circle and disappeared. Not surprisingly, M. burst into tears and began callng Tom every vile name she could think of, in French or English. I rushed her out of the Maison, walked her to her Apartment doing all I could to calm her down. I departed as soon as she had regained her composure. She was one angry French lady. We never returned to The American Bar. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ©whcameron2000