Remembrance Day: Life Itself is a Gamble, And One in Which we All Partake

A Letter From France, July 1944

[Editor’s note: my thoughts, such as they are, on the American election, can be found here.]

For Remembrance Day, a letter from my uncle to my mother, written July 27, 1944. This was, as far as I know, the first letter he wrote from France. The Algonquin Regiment left England as part of the 10th Infantry Brigade, 4th Canadian Armoured Division, on July 20, the day Claus von Stauffenberg and his co-conspirators attempted to assassinate Hitler. They landed in France on July 24, at which point several of the plotters had already been executed. There is a touching description of their departure on page 68 of Warpath: in particular, the image of dock workers in a state of high stress and anxiety due to lack of sleep and having to deal with the constant fear brought about by the German bombs. Many serve, not just the soldiers. Warpath also contains a vivid recounting of Juno Beach, as seen by the Algonquins upon arrival, calling it “a fantastic sight,” and marvelling at the method in the apparent chaos.

The kids today might call this letter “mansplaining” but I suspect he was just being older-brotherly. He could not write about where they were, about the actual war, after all - every letter is stamped by the censor. And my mother was, I can tell from other letters, curious. She wanted to write - as did my uncle - and I am sure he thought she could use some of these images in her work. In other letters, he wrote to her about drinking, about abortion and illegitimacy, about dating - all kinds of things. This topic - and my uncle’s comment that life is a gamble - is achingly sad, given that almost exactly two weeks later he died at Falaise pocket (or gap). I am very grateful to have this written legacy.

Opening paragraph refers to the buzz bomb or V1 bomb about which my uncle had written previously - he had been injured when he and some army mates were in a London hotel that was hit by a V1.

July 27, 1944

Dear Rigmore:

It’s a long time since I wrote you the last letter of this series (the one on ME AND THE B___ B___) but I think this one will consist of a discussion of gambling. To start with almost everyone gambles on something. As everyone says, life itself is a gamble, and one in which we all partake. This, of course, is true to the extent that life is a game of “part skill, part chance” and is only a gamble in the selection of the doors on which opportunity will knock. The part skill is the part where you decide whether it is worth your while to get up from the sofa and answer the door.

However, as for games of chance—that is something which enters on the army’s extracurricular activities. A soldier will play poker or shoot crap with shells landing 100x from him. (I’ve seen it.) And the winning of money is only of third-rate importance. The games are played primarily for amusement, but there is a constant effort not to lose too much and this results in a person winning. For all that, lots of money is won and lost.

Poker: is, of course, a card game, and of it there are varieties beyond count. Usually soldiers play what is called “dealer’s choice.” Then each dealer decides what variety he wants. I have played—“Omaha,” “Three Card Omaha,” Three Door, High Low,” “Seven Card High Low,” “Seven Card Low in the Hole,” “Baseball,” “Stud,” “Draw,” “Spit in the Ocean,” “Fiery Cross” and lots of others.

The dealer introduces the game by various names and in various ways—“Now we’ll have a Smith (himself) benefit—play a game of Honest John” (Stud) or “What’s America’s favourite game? Right!” “Baseball.” So then off goes the game in a spasm. It doesn’t take long to get a lot of money in the centre (called the “Pot” or the “Kitty”) with eager players.

The type of people I like playing with are, of course, those who play for fun, and play only for what I consider it would cost me to go out for that evening. Some of the fellows play for the excitement, and there is a lot when the pot gets up into the higher brackets. The question of who will get this pot in a game where everyone increases the size of the bet is really a burning one.

One of the fellows in the platoon started out with 175 francs and has now on him 3450 francs—a lot of money in any language. All in all, he’s happy about the gambling business—but he’s a bit of an expert, in an amateur sort of way.

Crap: Shooting crap is another way of gambling used by the army. Rules are simple, but the courtesies are difficult. Rules—there are two dice with numbers from one to six on them. The shooter (person who is going to roll the bones) lays down a sum of money saying he is right. The people on his right, in turn, take parts of it, betting against him. The people who think he is going to be right, bet with him. He then shoots—rattles the dice in his hand and rolls them out on the ground. If he rolls the dice so the total is 2, 3, or 12, he automatically loses the money but may bet again. If he rolls a 7 or 11 he automatically wins, and may also roll again. If he rolls anything else, he has to try to repeat that number—viz. roll it again. If the first number he rolls is an 8, he has to roll an 8 again to win. If, before he rolls the 8, he rolls a 7, he loses. If he loses this time, however, he can’t roll again, he has to pass the dice to the man on his left.

The dice are looked upon as human and addressed in terms of various sorts, depending on your mood, but one rule holds good—you cannot swear at the dice and expect to win.

The numbers 4 and 10 are very hard to roll (laws of permutations and combinations) and so have special names—4 is Little Joe and 10 is Big Dick. If you roll a 7 or 11 the first roll after the bet, it’s called a “Natural”, and a 2, 3, or 11 are called a “Crap.”

Picture: A gets the dice and rolls them between his hands. “My, my, but you’re hot. Pretty little bones,” he says appreciatively. “I’ll shoot 100 francs.” When the bet’s covered he’s told, “You’re faded.” Then he starts rattling the dice. “Oh baby, baby, be good. Fellows, I’m hot. Too bad you had to lose your money, too bad.” (Rolls dice on ground.) “Come on, natural!!” (Rolls a 6.) “Oh lovely, lovely! An easy six.” (Rolls again.) “Come on, six. There—there’s a six. No it isn’t—this one is—dice be good.” (This is interlaced with shouts of “Oh seven, be good!” by the betters against him.) “Oh six, six.” “Damn! A seven.”

So you see—good fun. In the course of 4 days, I won 1000 francs and lost 1400 francs. All in all worth it.

So much for now.

Norm

I won 1000 francs and lost 1400 francs. All in all worth it. Wow. A terrific sign-off from a soldier. If you are interested in these letters and my uncle’s stories, my book can be purchased here. (Remembrance Day aside, letter-writing is a lost art.) By the way, the very first time I visited Bretteville-sur-Laize - the Canadian War Cemetery where my uncle is buried - the lovely cab driver who took me there said, nodding in the direction of the rows of graves, “they will always be young.” Age shall not weary them.

[Bretteville-sur-Laize Canadian War Cemetery. Photo: Rondi Adamson, 2014.]