Ernest Hemingway Returns to Paris – August, 1944

“Get that woman out of here,” he cried. “Get her out,” he cried again.

He then started screaming at Hemingway and Marshall in French:

“On fait pas la guerre avec les femmes.” Which, when very roughly translated means: “It is a known fact that wars are not fought with or by women.”

Marshall was having a bad day and by this time was almost beside himself with a pent-up rage that came gushing out.

“Since when?” roared Marshall. “Since when, you no good son-of-bitch? I suggest, young man, you go away and study a little military history. Do you hear me?”

He heard him and left, his red cloak flapping in the wind as he made his way hurriedly toward his regiment’s positions on the other side of the Champs-Élysées

Elena took the hint and without a word slipped away. She was never seen again.

Hemingway’s group now made their way toward the Arc de Triomphe. A short time later Bruce described the scene:

“We walked across to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. It was being guarded by six veterans, standing at attention, and a mutilated ex-soldier, seated in a wheelchair. The French Captain in charge asked us if we wanted to ascend to the roof of the Arc. We did so and were greeted by a squad of Pompiers standing at attention. At the end of the Champs-Élysées a vehicle was burning in the Place de la Concorde and behind, in the Tuileries Gardens, it looked as if a tank was on fire. Smoke was issuing from the Grillon Hotel and, across the river, from the Chamber of Deputies. Snipers were firing steadily into the area around the Arc de Triomphe, and French were firing back at them. The view from the top was breathtaking. One saw the golden dome of the Invalides, the green roof of the Madeleine, Sacré-Coeur, and other familiar landmarks.
Tanks were firing in various streets. Part of the Arc was under fire from snipers. A shell from a German 88 nicked one of its sides.”

After coming down from the Arc, and with the Champs-Élysées free of traffic, Hemingway, Bruce and Pelkey drove at high speed down the broad avenue to the Travellers Club where the club president welcomed them with open arms and a bottle of champagne. As they drank a toast to the Americans, and the Free French, and to anyone else they could think off, a German sniper took a pot shot at Hemingway from a building across the road. He missed, and as Pelkey tried to un-jam his rifle and return fire Hemingway toasted the poor marksmanship of the German:

“Salute, you lousy Kraut bastard, salute.”

When the sniper had finally been dealt with Hemingway and his men moved across the road to one of his old haunts, the Café de la Paix, where they had a few more drinks before heading for the Ritz Hotel just a short distance way in the Place Vendome.