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336 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1948
Anita joined the Mechanized Transport Corps, an organization favored by upper class women, as a fully trained mechanic and ambulance driver, and sailed for Pretoria. Working their way northward, they tended wounded in stifling heat and hot winds in Cairo when the MTC was incorporated into the Auxiliary Territorial Service. Not wanting to be stuck in Egypt when the war moved elsewhere, she got the job of editing the Eastern Times.
After three years in the Middle East, she requested a transfer to Italy to be in the fight for Europe. While her work in Naples was rewarding, she wanted to be on the front line. The British didn’t allow women at the front, so she joined the French Forces to be a front-line ambulance driver. She took part in the liberation of France, and moved across Germany to Austria, then spent time in Berlin.
I know little of what transpired in the Middle East during World War II. Anita doesn’t make it sound appealing. She described it as boisterous gaiety, unlike the depressing circumstances she later in France. She worked in Beirut for the English Times with a staff of eight quarrelsome Syrians; a proprietor/lawyer with a queue of legal clients crowding his office; pages hand-set by fifteen Arab boys who didn’t read English—if a line got dropped, they reset it by guesswork; proofs corrected by an 82-year-old American missionary who came down from the mountains to apply for war work.
Bemoaning that the British keep “first-rate women subordinate to second-rate men,” she joined the French army and almost immediately hears of the mistaken messages on the BBC for the French underground, which was wiped out by the Gestapo. Throughout the rest of the war, she is in danger driving her ambulance so close to the enemy line, sometimes driving ahead of the French tanks. Other women among her colleagues were wounded and killed.
Her upper crust haughtiness comes out in her descriptions of others: the lazy Indo-Chinese soldiers; the dirty, thieving, undisciplined Arab element of their medical company; the bovine German fraus and their little tow-headed brats; the Moroccans’ limited intelligence and unlimited dishonesty.
Her description of Berlin is interesting—the devastation was revolting and so was the smell. Desolate streets with hordes of shabby Russians, well-dressed Americans swapping cigarettes at the black markets, British Desert Rats in search of a cup of tea and a bun, bleak-faced German women in the Russian zone doing forced labor of clearing away rubble in buckets.
The section in the Middle East got tiresome; her story picked up, for me, when she arrived in France. She is to be commended for voluntarily putting herself in what were frequently very disagreeable circumstances. I received a free copy in exchange for my honest opinion.