Mother of the Sixth Fleet
Eileen and Robert Mason Poilock
THIS SUMMER, barring new crises in the Middle East, many of the 6o lean, gray ships of the U. S. Sixth Fleet will drop anchor at one time or another in the harbor of Villefranche on the French Riviera, home port for the flagship of our naval forces in the Mediterranean. But for thousands of the seamen from these vessels, this picturesque 18th-century fishing village is more than a headquarters town. It's their home away from home. It's where "Mom lives.
"Mom is Madame Germaine Brau, a plump, bespectacled French grandmother who operates one of the many restaurants along the white stone quay. Her establishment is unique. For in addition to her excellent cuisine - both French and American-Mom Germaine is known throughout the fleet for the understanding and help she has given lonely American boys. She has loaned them money, kept them out of trouble and helped resolve their problems - from sewing on a button to financing a marriage.
The day we met Mom she had just emerged from her café, still wearing her starched white kitchen smock, to stand at the water's edge as a tender full of sailors approached from a destroyer anchored in the harbor. As they neared the quay, youthful voices sang out a greeting, and Mom's husky answer had the joy in it which only genuine welcome can bring.
"Quick hurry, boys, she called. "What's the matter so slow your boat?
An instant later she was swallowed up in an affectionate mass of arms. It was the spontaneous reunion of friends who have missed each other.
When everyone trooped under the canopy of "Mom's Place to order food, one young sailor remained behind, ill at ease. "Your wife you have written? Mom asked gravely. The boy nodded. "Everything's okay now. Mom wagged a reproving finger. "You love a girl, you let her know it. You never forget again, understand?
And then she smiled suddenly at this boyish husband who had been so remiss in his correspondence that his young bride had written the legendary Mom Germaine. A lecture from Mom had healed a possible marital breach.
She has been equally outspoken with other sailors she thinks have gone astray. She takes them to task as if they were her own sons, warning them that those who abuse the present will live to regret it in the future. And she has helped straighten out the higher ranks as well. When she discovered, for example, that a certain officer was not sym pathique, she sought him out and subtly told him how much his men needed his friendship and understanding. And, according to the men, her "propaganda worked.
Why does this 59-year-old French- woman, who must shop, cook and be hostess from ten each morning until two the following morning, devote herself to helping the men of the Sixth Fleet who need her?
Mom shrugs the question off. "I only do what the heart tells me, she says.
You realize how much her heart has told her when you see some of the thousands of grateful letters from those whose lives she has made brighter-mail from the lowest ranks up to admirals. And hanging on a wall of her restaurant, along with the gleaming copper pots and pans, is a life preserver inscribed:
"To Mom Germaine-from officers and men of the U.S.S. Salem with heartfelt thanks for the many kind- nesses shown to them during their stay in Villefranche.
The symbol of a life preserver is apt. On July 7, 1956, a Marine colonel was undergoing emergency surgery aboard the Salem when a critical need developed for a powerful antibiotic. None was on the ship, and a man was dispatched ashore to phone a supply house in Nice, five miles away. But it was Saturday afternoon, and the place was closed.
Mom listened as the potential tragedy unfolded, then quickly took over. Commandeering a taxi, she raced to Nice and went to a pharmacy where she persuaded a reluctant clerk to give her the drug. Back in Villefranche a launch was waiting to speed the precious medicine to the waiting doctors - and the officer's life was saved.
Later, when the Salem was retired as flagship of the Sixth Fleet, Mom Germaine was officially piped aboard the heavy cruiser and greeted by cheers from the assembled crew.
One of Mom's favorite benefactions is the loaning of small sums to sailors on shore leave who find themselves suddenly out of funds. They have never failed to repay her. One sailor committed the error of enclosing an extra four dollars for interest. Mom held the money for him, and upon his return rendered a stern maternal scolding. "Interest is for the bank, she told him. "I am not the bank!
Mom's affection for Americans is a great deal older than her restaurant. Born in 1900 in St.-Nazaire, she was a cook for an American Army camp near her home in 1918. Here she got to know the typical doughboy - at times boastful and swaggering, but good-humored and friendly. For such men Germaine would cook with vigor and enthusiasm.
When the war ended it seemed natural to continue in the same work, and she found a job as waitress in the Welcome Hotel, a famous landmark along the quay at Villefranche. Here she began to serve American seamen whose ships anchored in the harbor and, watching them, her heart would ache for the loneliness she knew they felt.
If only she had a restaurant of her own, a homelike place where these young men would be welcome to visit as well as eat, to talk about their dreams, ambitions, problems. She even knew the site she wanted - only a few doors down the quay. But there was a major drawback. Money.
For years Germaine put aside every franc she could spare toward her goal. Her savings grew at an agonizingly slow rate. She now had a family to consider, and there were times when she despaired of ever reaching the needed sum. Then, at last, there was enough. After 13 years of striving, she was able to open her own restaurant in 1937. Word-of-mouth advertising accomplished the rest. Among the people of the town, news spread of her good cooking. Among American sailors, the news was good food plus a warm and friendly welcome. Then one night Madame Germaine dish covered that sometimes even more than good food and a friendly atmosphere was needed.
A Navy supply ship scheduled to sail the following day for the States and long-delayed home leaves received a last-minute change of orders: an assignment that, would keep it at sea for many more weeks. A group of disappointed men had assembled at Germaine's café to mourn this tough break, then philosophically had tossed it off and gone their way. But after they left, Germaine noticed a fuzzy-cheeked young sailor who had remained, alone. "So thin he was, she remembers, "and so sad.
A few gentle questions filled in the story. Ed was barely s8, he had spent nine months in the Navy-the first separation from his family - and he was homesick. As he poured out his anxiety, the youngster felt himself start to cry and, chagrined, ran out into the night.
Germaine followed to the end of the quay where he sat miserably. "Your heart says cry, you cry and not be ashamed, she said firmly. "Now you tell me what your mother cooks, I cook it-just like you are home. Half an hour later Ed was grinning over ham and eggs.
There were dozens of Ed's in those years before World War II. Germaine was receiving photographs of sailors with their families, and letters from grateful parents who had heard of her kindnesses to their Sons.
Then the war changed everything. Tranquil Riviera ports now bristled with Nazi gun emplacements.
Germaine closed her restaurant and moved away. Surrounded by the rigors of war, she thought anxiously and often of her "boys. By the time Villefranche was liberated she was almost convinced she would never see any of them again, and the day she returned to the quay to think about reopening her restaurant she was depressed and uncertain for the first time in her life.
In the harbor was a U.S. destroyer. The cobblestone quay side was crowded with sailors in gleaming whites. Their faces were friendly but unfamiliar as she moved along to the shuttered door of the restaurant.
"Hey, Mom! Mom Germaine! a voice called.
She turned as a figure pushed through the throng. He stood looking down at her, a young machinist's mate with a quizzical smile and eyes that tugged at her memory.
"It's the crybaby, Mom. Remember?
He had his arm around her now, a different Ed from the homesick lad she had helped seven years before. This was a sailor who had fought at Guadalcanal and the Coral Sea. A boy's face had become a man's. But he had not forgotten their last meeting. He turned her to face the uniformed men around them.
"All right, you guys, he said proudly. "This is the one I told you about-Mom Germaine, the best friend you'll ever have on this shore. Ed's return was the first of many such reunions, and with old friends came new shipmates to meet Mom. And where she had been known to hundreds before the war, now- with our Navy increasing the number of ships in this strategic area- she was known to thousands.
In the ensuing years her restaurant has prospered. When relatives and acquaintances of the sailors she has befriended come to France, they make special trips to meet this extraordinary woman. And scores who have no such connection with her come to the quay to share the special warmth which Mom Germaine generates. Her guest book is filled with the signatures of the famous-Alec Waugh, Ingrid Bergman, the Aga Khan.
Widespread recognition, however, has changed none of the warm, understanding generosity of Mom Germaine. She still does what her heart tells her, and although there are gray streaks in her reddish-brown hair now, when our Sixth Fleet steams into the harbor at Villefranche, Mom Germaine is still waiting on the quay-a devoted second mother to lonely American sailors far from home.