my childhood

my childhood






TOULOUSE (Haute Garonne)

I would be born on the day of the capitulation of Nazi Germany, dock Tounis in Toulouse. Toulouse, which has since redesigned the banks of the Garonne in pleasant walks, hosting summer festivals which are transformed into beaches.

quai de Tounis à Toulouse

                                                                                                        The dock Tounis in Toulouse

Our parents: Pierre-François (Pierrot) and Jacqueline (called Lilli by his siblings and then Jacquotte) were known at the end of the second world war, at the municipal pool in Toulouse. Dad boasted of it coming to the rescue of mother, in the deep end, a meeting that would have sealed their union.

He told me to have abandoned a training fighter pilot in the U.S., for a perilous adventure, that of becoming ... father.

                                                                        My parents and me



Shortly after I was born, we joined all three FRG in Lahr, where the father exchanged his military convoy in tow (a huge truck: "Diamond"), against the gleaming Buick General Murtin. Having then "stuffed", the Buick, was perhaps the cause of his re-orientation Transmissions "air".


The inspection Hornisgrinde (1950) Papa (left) posing with the Buick (before impact) of General Murtin


My father loved dogs (especially large and wolves) and he said gladly, for him, the education of children was similar to the training of these animals. The eldest of the scope that I was then, was followed a year later a little sister: Dominique (Domy), then a year later still, our brother, Christian. Both were born in Lahr (FRG). Then, seven years later, the last two cubs were born of the litter: Gilles-François, Saint-Mande in 1953 and Pierre-Eric, in Dakar in 1955.

Domy and Christian

Bettina (cocker to Grandpa) and scope

Our dogs:

Looping 1949                        Corsaire 1956                        Nora 1964 Peggy 1979


Lahr after we joined Ottenhöfen near the French border, a charming little village of Black Forest, at the foot of Mount Hornisgrinde, where our father worked.


Black Forest landscape (Schwartzwald)


Lake Mummelsee (between Ottenhöffen and Mount Hornisgrinde)

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The Berghotel held (by then a fellow candy) on Lake Mummelsee

The village was crossed by a small mountain stream, frozen ice in winter. We were staying upstairs in the attic of a large country house, near the woods. Behind it was an orchard of plum, which we feasted on fresh fruit fell to the ground. We also were leading the hunt for salamanders living in steep streams. The view from the top of the meadow, leaning on a tree, overlooking the valley with its miniature railway, which regularly came up against small trains hikers. Sometimes the arrival of a large steam locomotive-the-foot high, this peaceful village suddenly animated.

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                                 steam locomotive of Deutsche Bahn                       Ottenhöfen (the station)             the main deck of the village






Before this house was a small road which we were separated by a solid gate that protected the most uncontrollable factor of attacks in our German Shepherd "Looping". We lived almost on a level with the nature and played with children German neighbors. During the occupation of Germany, our relations with the inhabitants were sometimes difficult. Especially since I had accidentally broken a single stone, the window of a store's local porcelain. This accident had cost dearly to my parents (mile mark). And my father told me to have my most wanted ... clumsiness.

Later, Domy always pushed accidentally, a neighborhood child in a cesspool. Fortunately the Germans were surprisingly tolerant with young children. I keep most of the apartment where we lived, the memory of a particularly rich parquet splinters that, whenever we jouiions, invariably planted in banderillas of stinging our hands and knees.








I remember some days spent on the grass next to a pool setting, where the sound we generously dispensed Tyrolean songs throughout the day. Is this why, or simply because they were happy that our parents and especially our father often sang arias from operettas at home.

But our long stay (nearly 7 years) in Germany ended and I remember because I was now a large, our return trip to France in 1953, for a few fleeting images, including crossing the metal bridge Kehl marking the border, our convoy by rail.


the railway bridge in Strasbourg-Kehl on the Franco-German


PARIS (France)


In Paris, we ended up at six, crammed into the two parts of a requisitioned hotel, located rue Condorcet in the 10th arrondissement. This apartment upstairs, stood near the Place d'Anvers and Montmartre. Above and left of it, a triangular plot marked the intersection of Rochechouart, Turgot and Condorcet. Vétus our gray blouses and our galoshes, we went to school in the rue Turgot.


on the way to school


the current site of the school Turgot

My class in primary school Turgot (I'm the third from the right in back row)

visiting Paris, we arrived: Alexandre III bridge and gazebo in the park of Buttes-Chaumont

We were there so many of the school, and in the back yard so small, that all classes could not be there at recess together. The hotel was very dated and smelled of furniture polish, its main facade facing the street, which sloped to the intersection of streets Turgot, Condorcet and Rochechouart. At the end of the course, we would sometimes slide down the, until Christian, stumbled to the curb and fell flat at full length on the crosswalk. We watched in horror, disappear among the tall front wheel of a Citroen Traction Avant. Fortunately, this car had a ground clearance and there were all, more fear than harm. And as then the alcohol tests were not driving, the driver was in need of one, maybe two, drinks at the local cafe, to recover from his emotions.

Square Willette and Montmartre


We would sometimes take the air with Mom, Place d'Anvers, at the foot of the hill of the Sacred Heart of Montmartre or on the slopes of the hill, at the Square Willette. We escaladiont the hill, by menacing alleys bounded by Rails concrete molded in shrubs, to the foot of the white basilica. Often we had fun, hands plunged into the pool water, trying to avoid the shrill whistles and brief the guards the square, dressed at the time, like "swallows", a cap and a cape. I do not remember that we are assembled at the time, until the place of the mound.

Before the Sacred Heart, see Paris at our feet was plenty for our happiness. In real poulbots we fund our usions panties on the stair railings parallel to the funicular, skillfully controlling the braking, our hands clenched on the ramp, before jumping on arrival.







At the other end of Paris, in the 14th district, beyond Montparnasse, our resident paternal grandparents to whom we pay regular visits. They lived in a house 160bis, invisible from the street Vercingetorix, because on the back of a building. This dwelling was set between the building and rail access to the Montparnasse station. Sometimes, a locomotive was moving slowly, we dominating its black mass, smoking and ferraillante.

Outside the pavilion, survived a rectangle of green trees and a few anemic. Facing him was the workshop of the publisher Pierre Larive, a friend of my grandparents, whose collections numbered Diderot, Stendhal and Merimee, are now highly prized by connoisseurs. Pierre Larive, orphan, was the godfather and dad would have been saved from alcoholism by my grandmother: Julia (Juliette). She had inherited her father's generosity? François Sauriac that, bassoon Radio-Limoges, said my father had brought back from a concert in the early morning, a horse, for rendering and moreover blind, at home.

Pierre was characterized by an exceptionally grave voice, a clear look and a calm that contrasted with the excitement permanent family.

Grandma, me and Peter Larive, at number 15, rue de la Convention (15th district)

For Julia, her son has always remained "Pierrot," while mom was called by her "my little Jacquotte" and his daughter Monique, "Pepee"

               Julia, her daughter, Monique, Jacquotte and Pierrot (outside the pavilion, rue Vercingetorix)







1953 Birth of  Gilles-François


I remember living in the flag of our grandparents sat on the wall at the place of honor, a painting of a tall ship in the wind. This painting was done by a painter "Grand Prix de Rome." But the artist was not aware of aerodynamics, since the flames at the top of the masts followed backwards, running the boat, and not the rushing wind in the sails, in the opposite direction. Was it possible at the time, a sailboat go faster than the wind that blows?
In Paris, we traveled sometimes in the car of a grandparent, a Renault Primaquatre I think, because at that time the traffic density was not one today. It was a black sedan very square, like so many others. It was followed by a 4hp Renault model to which our grandparents remained faithful until the accidental death of my grandmother, who was killed aboard one of them. The 4hp accounted for our "Parisian" Grandfather, the ideal car to get around Paris.







Renault Prima Quatre                                                   Renault 4cv

Our paternal grandfather: OFFSET Gabriel, married to Julia Sauriac, was a former fighter pilot who participated in the war of 1914-1918, then to the "phony war" of 1939-1940. I mention that I learned of his career (mainly in History Department of Defense, Fort Vincennes), in the second part of this site.

Gabriel PALLIER and Julia SAURIAC

Our maternal grandfather: OULES Jacques (pronounced "Oulès"), which I mentioned in career third part of this site, was married to Jeanne IDRAC ("Mamette" to his grandchildren), whom he had five children. He made a military career in the colonial infantry, which stays mostly in Africa and Indochina.

He finished his career as a lieutenant in the 16th Rifle Regiment Senegal (RTS), during the campaign in France








Georges OULES             Jeanne, Georges  and Jacqueline OULES to Kindia (Guinée)      Jeanne OULES (born IDRAC)


It was in Paris, I discovered aviation at the time. First one, calm and twirling of Issy-les-Moulineaux and the lively and thunder of air shows in Le Bourget. Especially at this time, the French pilots Dassault Mystère IV (including Colonel Conztantin Rozanoff) had just discovered how to direct sonic booms to the crowd and never did away with it.

Dassault MD-450 Mystère IVA and "Kostia" ROZANOFF


We remained only two years in Paris, including a "short" break in two summer months in Charente, in the castle of Cresse where we would find: the fields of "colonial" and the French countryside with its flowers and harvests of summer. Mom she was slowly recovering from the birth of our brother Gilles-François.

I tied in Paris strong friendships with "mates" in Paris, that distance would unfortunately quickly make me forget.

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Castle Cresse and the Charente countryside summer



DAKAR (Sénégal)


Dad was transferred to Air Base No. 160 Ouakam in Dakar for two years in 1953. He joined his assignment by means of military airlift, a DC-3 "Dakota" to enable it to cross the Mediterranean interminably.
For the family, we were better off and premiums civilian aircraft at Orly, via Marseille-Marignane and our journey was made at night without problems, on a Douglas DC6b the EU airline or air-maritime Transport (UAT to origin with TAI, UTA). The plane then continued his journey to Bamako, Conakry and Abidjan. There was talk initially, that the journey is on De Havilland Comet jet II, but this new airliner had been banned from flying after several serious accidents. Subsequently it was learned that these accidents were due to the microscopic appearance of cracks on the cell ruptures.


Douglas DC-3 and DC-6B                                                       De-Havilland Comet

During our stay of two years in Dakar, we would change three times as a dwelling. At first we built on the ground floor of a white house, alone in the middle of the medina. Unfortunately, it proved invaded by water in each storm, as built below ground level. We then compress the usefulness of the floor to pull out beds, top of which we take refuge, while our parents écopaient.







Jacquotte, Protet place - our house (in Medina), then the "SICAP Karak" with Dick - Renault Juvaquatre

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It was therefore necessary to leave this house, to get closer to Ouakam, for a semi-detached house in a subdivision named "SICAP" closest point "E". Point "E" was the public school to which we went on foot, crossing a railway line. It was a public school and mixed (sex and color). It was there that I saw in the sky off the roof of a hut away in the sky by a tornado.

Baobab of the ellipse at point E (shot in 1971) - cassava (a staple food of the time)      taxi-bus

                The SICAP (suburbs)                         hut in the Medina (1955)                 a pavilion at Point E

My class in primary school at Point E (I'm the 4th from the left in last place)


Dominique class at Point E (the center of the second rank)

Christian class at Point E (the first left at the top)

Our neighbors to the house and we were African SICAP offered at their festivals, through the hedge separating the garden, wonderful donuts fat as desired. We we applied hard, to "burn out" all the vegetation in our garden by watering thoroughly during the hot hours. Only, I think, a few banana trees survived this desire to do well.

1955 - The beach N'gor (1955)                   Short seaplane "Sunderland"    Aircraft carrier "Arromanches" back from Suez

Each weekend of big white seaplane "Sunderland" were conducting air drops over the bay. Site suggesting that equipment used by the Naval Air
I was in love with my little neighbor, "Josette" the pretty face and light-skinned and freckled, dressed in a cardigan eternal.
She was the daughter of a mechanic and it would have been helpful to our car, an old black Renault Juvaquatre passed away at the entrance to the city one evening, spitting flames from its exhaust. This drama mechanics, then we forced to use military buses to get to the beach of N'Gor: to learn to swim first so then we bathe safely.

Faced with this beach was the island of N'Gor that Dad decided to swim it succeeds, but to land on ... a shoal of sea urchins.

I remember the long and patient work of the evening Mom, extracting one by one (especially without breaking them), to the tweezers, the thorns of Ursidae deep in the flesh. I also remember a carabinée pneumonia contracted by my father, there he almost did not escape.

But we take our revenge on marine animals, going to the mess of the air base, eating the delicious lobster Sunday.

At the SICAP, in hedges, we hunted chameleons, miniature dragons, making them turn color from green to gray, once he knew they were discovered.


The days of Ramadan sheep; attached to a stake in the gardens, were slaughtered according to ritual. We watched fascinated, blood flowing from the throats of animals sacrificed. The bush was directly behind our house, with its giant anthills, snakes and jackals (or hyenas) coming into our gardens, browse the night.
Sometimes we would attend competitions steeplechase, on a beautiful green lawn obtained, in English, with a lot of watering and water rationing yet existed. We were at the time regularly overflown by aircraft spreaders DTT, without knowing that these products could eventually we also be harmful.

                                                                Our parents to Dakar (1954)

Our last home in Dakar, was an apartment on the top floor of a building in the city of "airmen" new city and adjacent to the barracks of the airbase Ouakam. We were woken to the sound of the bugle, but ultimate luxury: Mom had to help him, a rifleman, "Victor" and a nanny: "Rockaya". Our nights were rocked croaking of toads buffalo and movies of outdoor cinema near where past were mostly films Fernandel, whose smiles with big white teeth were very well liked. The interior walls of the camps were lined with a bright pink bougainvillea.

Christian, Domy and me at Dakar (1955)        on the beach of N’’Gor             screen outdoor cinema Ouakam

Sometimes we crossed the road we visit the nearby military airfield Ouakam, observe the movements of aircraft types and Leo 45 AAC-1 Toucan (French version of the three-engined Junkers Ju-52).












                               LéO 451                                                                       AAC-1 "Toucan"

On the huge baobab trees behind our building, were our playground and we ate fruit "monkey bread", stringy and sour taste.






the baobab tree and its fruit the monkey bread

Flags of Ouakam facing our building and Christian in front of it Ballo, Pierrot (in front of knight's armor)

Parties were frequent enough, and I remember that our parents had attended a costume ball. My father was wearing a cardboard armor he had done, including using paper plates in the joints, painted aluminum. But first prize was won by a robot equipped with colored lights, made ​​by mechanics. The fight was uneven ...

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our parents in town

Often at the end of days, we went on foot to the nearest beach at the bottom of the barracks, to capture the fry were trapped in the holes of rocks, which were taken by surprise by the descent of the tide or observe the return of colorful canoes sinners, until the "right" to the wave it gently on the sand.

pirogues-de-peche-senegalaises-1.jpgcanoes of fishermen

We went one day in Thies northeast of Dakar. There, during the afternoon of relaxation, I found the way to break accidentally, the calf of my sister with a blow dart. It is true that she chose the precise moment of the jet to cross between me and the target (and like everyone else is not ... Tell Gillaume).


local transport running on the track (well charged).


Our last brother Pierre-Eric was born in 1955 in Dakar.

Pierre-Eric, carried by his nanny: Rockaya N'Gaye

We all go to France, on the steamer "Djenné".

the liner "Djenné" Company Paquet

We traveled in the company of conscripts installed in the hold, which we would discover the existence arrival at Marseilles, when cast into the harbor, a huge wooden keel. During this trip, one Christian does not suffer from seasickness and, of course we envy, because he could eat their fill, including our ice cream served for dessert. With this old ship smells of paint and graillons, fortunately we did stop at Las Palmas, Casablanca and Tangier, which allowed us to take a few perks to each of them, but not for long.
I keep in Las Palmas, the memory of a water crystal clear, Casablanca and Tangier its whiteness, its beneficent coolness under the canopy of trees overlooking the harbor.

                 Boarding                                            the start                                         of the sea



The France

Aumont Aubrac (Lozère)


Dad granted leave to return overseas for six months, he chose to join us to Aumont-Aubrac, in Lozère in the middle of the Massif Central, where lived: his sister Monique, her husband and sons Gaston .

Aumont-Aubrac (Lozère)

Located approximately 1000 meters, the bracing climate of the plateau of Aubrac gave us the greatest good to our return from Africa. In addition, winter 1956 was particularly harsh and we had great snow to be cleared for access road to our house at the edge of the village. Déneigeage f'autant more necessary than Dad had bought his first new car, a Peugeot 203 sedan blue-gray (with sunroof manual and white wall tires, please).

         Our Peugeot 203                            Our houses in Aumont-Aubrac         with our cousins ​​and their father, Gaston

The meadow, on which stood the house was surrounded by an embankment at the bottom, which passed on the old electric motor of the railway line of the Massif Central. This proximity, exacerbating our imagination and realized in a pre-track schedule, shaded by hemlock feet, as we traveled using trains made of tin cans attached. Thus, boxes of sardines accounted for cars with side panels while the boxes represent cylindrical tank wagons. It was quite inspired by Africa, which allows for objects with few resources.
Every Sunday, we found our cousins ​​Arnaud and Pascal, before a meal served at a local restaurant, whose menu began invariably blocked by the generous queen, served on a red gingham tablecloth. But once the meal is over, we went together, hurtling down the slopes madly to-face, rolling in the grass. This appointment Sunday was once the subject of a drama, when dad past the railway station restaurant, could not avoid a row of ducks unwary who ventured on the snowy road. Finally, the owner decided to add the victims of the daily menu, which closes the incident.
Then we went to live in the middle of the village, in a family house owned by a Miss Mallet. A house which harbored the attic full of old treasures. The furniture was as old as its owner and the bedrooms upstairs, unheated, saw beds covered with down comforters generous. In the attic, between stacks of postcards Obsolete, we found a frail heater, that we used briefly as a sledge. In the courtyard outside the house, quietly rusting the wheel of a water pump in retirement, we gave up after numerous unsuccessful attempts to revive him.
Below the house mallet, passing in a curve cashed, the tracks already mentioned. The trains would spend cautiously. How many times have we placed stones on the rail, hoping to derail the iron monster ... fortunately in vain.

          Driving the Paris-Béziers            Viaduct Garabit (Gustave Eiffel)spanning the valley of the Truyère
I découvrai Aumont, a religious school run by an abbot, whose name I forgot. It was located in the village center and faced the monument morts.J have kept the memory of this school the mandatory morning prayer and our crazy winter slides standing on the ice, across the courtyard. The work of art nearest and most impressive to which we went to visit was the Garabit viaduct built by Gustave Eiffel, to span Truyère.

Christian and Looping     Gilles-François, Domy and Pierre-Eric     Pierre-Eric        Me, Corsair, Domy  and Christian

But our father, moved to Aix-en-Provence, was to resume work. So we embarked all seven aboard the "203" for the laces down the Cevennes, in directions of southern France.


Lambesc (Bouches du Rhône) 


We now go live to Lambesc, a charming provencal village located twenty kilometers west of Aix-en-Provence and still bears the scars of an earthquake June 11, 1909 (magnitude "6" on the Richter scale), his church has lost its steeple spire, never rebuilt since.

The center Lambesc (we lived the apartment indicated that overlooked the square of Hairy)

Our apartment was on the place of hairy, bearing in its center place a war memorial, opposite the church.
We lived in Lambesc of numerous years, and I spent my adolescence among the thyme, lavender, olives and sheep .. We were enrolled in the elementary school, a new building erected away the village, on the heights of the plateau Berthoir. To get there we had to cross many of the old streets of Lambesc. Near the school in the pine forest, was the house of M.Saule factor, creator in 1957 of the folk group "Lou Galoubet" Dominique was one group that for several years, which allowed him to travel very early, while dancing.

   The folk group "Lou Galoubet" (tambourine Provençal)                      instead of the church from our apartment

 Below, my favorite track at the start of Lambesc, with my first bike (a Peugeot, mustard metallic, sometimes borrowed without my knowledge by Domy, she confessed to me later):

Lambesc is located south and at the foot of the chain Trévaresse. Many times in the summer, we went to walk Charleval, where was created the first outdoor pool area, pool also assiduously frequented by flies. When I arrived in Lambesc, I was placed in the course of Ms. Groulet, which prepared students for entry into the sixth. This course was mixed which, after the rule of the Christian school Aumont, seemed nice. Then I continued my primary education in two years of preparation the Certificate of Primary Education (CPE), Mr. Michel's class (called "médord") com munist zealous and fervent admirer of Yves Montand.

le Jacquemart de 1646    la fontaine du centre hôtel Cadenet Charleval dit «Sévigné» le moulin de Berthoir

I loved this nature then the village, and I often walked there with our dog black Belgian shepherd Nora.

This love of nature prompted us up back in the plane of the square, tree frogs found in nearby ponds. Rainy periods, we saw turned into hunters snail, along the walls of the road Charleval. Several times, only equipped with candles, we crawled underground, along with a small hose leading to a water fountain and wash the sheep, whose walls were full of leeches foam left by them. We entered through a basement window also in the hotel of Madame de Grignan, then in poor condition
Sometimes armed with courage, we climbed up to the chapel of St. Anne Goiron and the War Memorial local resistance, killed during an operation, during the second world war. The site is majestic, quiet and offers beautiful views of the valley of the Durance. This is our next door neighbor, Peter Gazhanes, now president of the Association of "Old Lambesc" which introduced us to this remarkable place.

the war memorial and the church               convent Santa Teresa (rte Pelissanne)


Lambesc and fields of daffodils in summer, its wild iris in the scrub, olive trees, pine trees and cicadas, there was good to live despite the heat. It was enough to know the streams and springs, for a simple walk is a delight. I also remember the cherry trees lining the road generous to Charleval.
Life on the place was peaceful hairy. When we arrived at Lambesc, water supply in the apartments had just been completed. But I remember a truck driver for a long time neighbor, was washing out of habit every morning the torso, the fountain of the square. We made ​​friends with children in school, but particularly those with the neighborhood. I remember, from right to left: Family MARTY, Spanish Republican refugees poor, whose eldest son, tall, dark and thin and wore glasses was fond of crystal set radios, he kept perfect. It was a large family. Then came the cure, the cure: a theologian M.RAIMBAUD was little loved by his congregation because of its rigor. Always dressed in a cassock and a black hat, he surveyed the front of the church and down along by reading her missal. It was carrying the child of patronage in his old jalopy black. The urchins that we were enjoying particularly religious ceremonies: weddings and baptisms as participants always throw a few handfuls of loose change on a dusty place, at the end of the office. The campaign includes nearly thirteen Lambescaine oratories.

       Flower parade Lambesc,        Domy the chariot of the queen and that of "the fountain of love"   an oratory

The Monastery of St. Theresa, Pelissanne road, I was making regular visits to a Franciscan friar: Father: "Don Buenner" who had an office and a library of exceptional richness. This well of science, inquisitive, lovingly cultivated geraniums in a small fenced garden side. On his desk sat a majestic piece of quartz, blackened by lightning, which fascinated me with his loud purple.
By attending the father, I approached unconsciously my love (platonic) time, a pretty brunette with long hair, the golden voice, like her mother who sang in the choir of the church and worked at the Joan of Arc School, girls' school located precisely in the convent Ste-Therese. This family was from, I think of Marmande, his father was a sergeant in the Air Force and married to the organist of the harmonium, both were very devout Christians. They had four children: three girls and a boy respectively prénommaient: Marie-Joseph, Chantal, and Anne-Marie Bernard, who assiduously attended the church. How many have we vespers also participated, on Sunday afternoon.

Wedged between their small house overlooking the ramp accessing the main street and the cure was a large building occupied by Dr. Sabatier, who had an only son, Christian. At the bottom of the ramp, that I had to go back in charge, was the druggist, hardware dealer with whom I went to get gas cylinders, for cooking. On the other side of the ramp and perpendicular to it, gave a narrow alley behind the pharmacy where the pharmacist's son lived and his parents that he would begin his address as vous and sentences against them, by: "Yes? ". His father imbecile, had helped to slap me in the street after an argument with his son. Even today, I gladly will slip arsenic into the jars of this shoot-cannulas pretentious.
On the square and the start of this lane, stood a lovely bakery where my parents brought every Sunday to Sunday roast chicken. I discovered the delicious focaccia with almond chips, pastries and hard chiseled leaf-shaped oval. Besides lived a young girl of Lyons who was practicing the violin at her window. A short and steep street linking the church square in the market place or place Jean Jaures.


Sur le viaduc  de l’ancienne voie ferrée   la pose pour tous                              sur la place de l’église

Left corner of this street, the shop was Broadcast Lèbre of MM and their youngest daughter Marie-Blanche who also danced to the group "Lou Galoubet".
Besides, a house that was occupied in summer by the French living in Morocco, the Manzanaresse who had a boy and a girl of our age. Beside an old maid: Odile and her elderly parents, then our building with a dark, wide corridor leading to the staircase at the back was always extraordinary coolness in summer. A first floor below us, a time lived a young couple, the Smiths whose disputes had no equal as reconciliations.
On our porch, in front of our entrance housed Marseilles: the Gazanhes Lambesc who came to the summer. Gazanhes Peter, the youngest, liked to Lambesc while his older brother engineer, painted local landscapes. Peter, the time wore thick glasses, he is now head of the old museum Lambesc and wrote a 1992 book about the city that its population has quintupled since that time (2000 to 10,000 inhabitants ).
Having spent my primary school certificate in Lambesc, I was admitted into the learning center G1550 Aix-en-Provence, "University of roller Cantan" as baptizing, mocking my father. This property was wedged between the military preparatory school, behind the technical college and school of arts and crafts, with a disused chapel in which dried the planks of wood needed to learn our carpenters. Other trades workers were trained in three years of study: fitters, boilermakers, carpenters, masons ... Being a military child, obviously does not help me much in that environment, on the contrary .

We were visiting our grandparents parent: the area of ​​"South Paradise" in Toulon for a holiday home Mamette, his son Claude and daughter Colette and the villa "squadron" of Boulouris to meet grandpa and grandma.

Visit Mamette in Marignane (SE-200) and Christian Dad Boulouris

the villa "l'escadrille" in Saint-Raphael/Boulouris Portal and terrace (summer 1964)

On a visit to our paternal grandparents in Boulouris

retour-des-sablettes-carqueiranne.jpgBack from the beach of Pradon in Toulon, with our maternal grandmother (Mamette)

mamette-devant-sa-maison-a-carqueiranne.jpgMamette to Carqueiranne


Mamette at the end of its life

mamette-francoise-et-rene-oules.jpgMamette with his son René and his wife Francoise in Paris

When we went to Marseille, very often we went to the old port and passions sometimes before the "maison du fada" (the "radiant city" Le Corbusier). We went swimming in the pond of Berre, on beaches Massane or Varage. We arrived to attend to Martigues.Nous jousting sometimes we pay to the beach for the day of Lecques.


the radiant city of Le Corbusier (called "the house of the fada") Joust water



The beach of Varage in 1960                                                  and that of Lecques

In the summer of 1962 and once my certificate of fitness professional carpenter in his pocket, I worked a month with a craftsman in Aix. But the cumulative cost of meals and daily transportation between Lambesc and Aix, rendered the operation unprofitable. I loved the job of assistant surveyor in a small consulting firm working under contract for EDF to the development of the Durance. With my fellow surveyors, under the command of M.REGNE engineer and surveyor with my focus, we conducted surveys of profiles of irrigation canals, followed by calculations of volume of soil to be removed (volume measurements). I also participated in the realization of precise leveling of the Central Salon-de-Provence. Although sometimes difficult (the days of bad weather did not exist as in the building), we would sometimes work under the snow. But this life shared between topographic outdoor and carry on planes within the remaining time, quite suited me.

canal of Provence

me at 17

The marriage of Maurice and Domy in 1967

But I was 17 then and a growing passion for modern aircraft, including jets frequently passing over our heads from Istres or Orange. Unfortunately, high myopia forbade me any hope of driving, but even so eager to get closer to this world, I enlisted September 18, 1963 in the Air Force for a period of three years and in the goal to become a noncommissioned officer.

During my military training (Platoon # 2 here at BIM-Compiègnes Royallieu in 1965)

For three months I was doing my military training at the training center of the base-School No. 726 in Nimes-Courbessac. Following this training, three "specialties" I was offered the choice: Administrative Secretary, fireman or cook, I choose the first, and found myself again on work placement-based school # 720 in Caen- Carpiquet to be trained in secretarial (typing machine included). The fact that access to the train "Mistral" I was refused as I returned from military leave end of course, made me miss the amphi final allocation basis for allocation and I found mutated the base-School No. 702 in the Cher Avord, place no one wanted, most of parcequ'inconnu.
I arrived at Avord in the heat summer, the weekend of August 15, 1964, on a near-deserted. After a short stay as harbinger of a support unit, with boss as a chief warrant officer of the former B-26 Marauder, then deputy mess manager NCOs I was finally assigned to the Department of Education (DE) School transport pilots (Groupement Ecole No. 319). At that time, the GE319 was equipped with twin-engine Dassault "Flemish" MD 312 and Douglas DC3 for navigation "astro" in favor of the bombing crews. At the DE I had the charge of quartermaster equipment for individual flight back to students (flight suit, helmet Guenault, navigation rule etc.) and sending the message of aircraft availability, every morning sent to the command of schools based in Villacoublay which we depended.
I effectuai my first flight in the Air Force on MD 312 at an air link on Villacoublay as a pilot with my direct boss, the lieutenant Butard (a "mustache" in piloting). Promoted corporal, I encadrais a section called the BIM Compiègne. This is where I discovered Paris.

Dassault MD 312 «Flamant»

Back at Avord, I was getting a few months later a permutation of the Paris area for the air base No. 104 Le Bourget-Dugny. When I arrived on this basis was stationed the 64th transport squadron. It consisted of two squadrons: the ET No. 1/64 "Béarn" fitted with twin double girder North 2501 "Noratlas" and ET 2/64 "Maine" equipped Breguet Br 765 "Two Bridges" and Douglas DC 6B.

Nord 2501 Noratlas

Bréguet Br.765 «Sahara»

In 1966 I became acquainted with Annick (called "Anne"), my future wife, who was at the time, manipulative radiology to clinical radiological rue Jean Laugère Arnouville-lès-Gonesse (clinic run by Doctors and Fihey Lepic). We got married in Arnouville-lès-Gonesse in 1967. Our first child, Christopher (now a researcher at the CNRS) was born the following year and Severine (currently a professor of French literature in college), was born in 1972.


Christophe, Anne and Séverine


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