Biography of Gilbert Carrée

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In 1938 a baby boy was born to Germaine Marie Carrée in Paris, France. Sadly, we have never known who this baby's father was. Gerri, as Gilbert's mother was called, only said he was killed in a train wreck.

Champagné

Gilbert of course does not remember, nor have we ever known exactly when he was taken to his grandparents (mother's family) in Champagné near Le Mans, France. We know it had to do with the war (World War II) that started for France when they declared war on Germany in September of 1939. Germaine took her son to her parents and returned to Paris.      His first memories are simply of his grandmother and grandfather, and a house with attached granary, in the countryside.      At left is a photo of Gilbert at 13 months, taken in Champagné.      Some memories that are still vivid: A redhead, Gilbert was "blessed" with freckles early on. A first memory was of his Grandmother telling him to go outside in the early morning and put his face in the dewy grass. And so he did, ever believing. I'm here now to tell you it didn't work! Raiding the garden where of course he was caught and duly punished. And for him, carefree days of wandering about.      He remembers his grandfather sitting eating onions straight from the garden, with a long loaf of French bread. A large tree near the house which his grandmother picked leaves from and made tea; real fruit trees in the yard. A girl cousin (whose children we still correspond with).      In June of 1940, France surrendered to Germany. Gilbert's memories of the war are not of tragedy, but of frightening, exciting displays in the distance. Explosions were common, but only as a novelty to a boy who was only four or five years old.      He watched things that would bring terror to us now, but in France, were a fairly common occurrence. To this day he doesn't remember what year it was or who it was, but his grandfather and he would watch in the distance as airplanes strafed, again and again, a railroad bridge some distance from the house. And bombs exploding even further away.      Gilbert's only frightening moment that he still remembers and still sometimes dreams of: An airplane, guns blazing, coming straight towards their home. Thankfully it was aiming at something beyond them, but it was low and came directly over the house.         Next, in the fall of 1944, came the American soldiers and Allies, in convoys down a road not far from Gilbert's home with his grandparents. His grandfather and he would run to the road and the soldiers would throw them canned meat (something they had never seen) and candy, plus other good things. He will always remember the kindness and smiles he received. I can only imagine how the American military felt - here was the very reason they were there.      In retrospect of that awful time, Gilbert and his grandparents were extremely lucky - though I'm sure they didn't think so. He does not remember ever seeing a German soldier. Nor does he remember ever lacking for anything. We wish so very much that we had really known these people who took in a small boy.      An ironic and sad footnote: After Gilbert had returned to Paris, his grandfather was killed when he was struck by an American army jeep. For reasons no one now knows, the poor gentleman was drunk and wandered into it's path. Gilbert never saw either of his grandparents again.

Paris 1945

Gilbert's mother came to Champagné to take him back to Paris with her in 1945. Their first meeting was not really a happy one as Gilbert did not remember his mother, was very shy of her and this upset her. But Gerri was even more upset as she learned her young son had been injured and the injury did not look good.      One day while playing with a neighbor boy, they were taking turns climbing a tree and dropping rocks on unexploded shells to try and set them off. They didn't explode, but somehow Gilbert managed to be right under the tree when the other boy dropped a rock and it hit him in the back of the head.           In Paris Gilbert was immediately hospitalized. Hospitals in any country, but especially one after a great war, were not a really good place to be. After surgery to clean and close the wound on his head, Gilbert fell victim to one contagious disease after another. He has scars at the base of his spine, on his arms and of course on his head - none of which he remembers what they were for, except the head wound. He was in the hospital six months. The one good thing he remembers is them bringing him an orange every day. He saw very little of his mother.       Once again living with his mother, Gilbert started school at a private Catholic parish. He was almost 7 years old and had not attended school at all. He didn't do well in the school and his mother pulled him out, keeping him out of school a bit and then into a public school where he did only marginally better. Still not really well, he was home sick very much.           Gilbert remembers little of Paris - he does remember seeing the Eifel Tower at a distance (buildings at that time were only allowed to be four stories high and they had a fourth floor one room apartment). He also has memories of sleep walking and of once being caught by his mother just as he started out the fourth floor window; of riding the trolley, and of hating school! He was so far behind and too bewildered and ill to catch up.      Unknown to this little boy, far across the sea in a little town called Gillette in the state of Wyoming, USA, plans were brewing for his mother and him. A French immigrant had told the local doctor of Gillette, about Gerri and her son. And thus began the paperwork of bringing two French citizens to America under the Displaced Persons act, put in place after WW II. Dr. McHenry was to change the course of Gilbert's life.

Wyoming, USA  1948

Below is a photograph (in bad condition!) of Gilbert, his mother, and a passenger friend as they crossed the Atlantic ocean to the USA on the good ship M/S Batory.      Gilbert remembers with awe the statue of liberty, and the thousands of people of New York. Neither his mother nor he spoke English so it was with the courtesy of strangers that they found their train and began the long cross country trip to Wyoming. Their only meals were sandwich's, that word on the menu being very similar to the French version.      Gilbert still in shorts, as was the custom in the warm climate of France, they arrived in Gillette, Wyoming in the fall of 1948. During the worst blizzard that part of the country had seen. And these two travelers had never seen ANY snow.      But the doctor and his wife were prepared for them, and Gilbert was soon sledding with children his own age; playing as he hadn't for years. And it was off to school also. Gilbert was ten years old and had advanced only half way through second grade. He should have been at least in 5th grade. Fortunately, the French school system was ahead of it's time and he had already started algebra. But he didn't speak English. And into play regarding this problem, came his friends at school. He was an oddity for this small western town and they were glad to help this "strange" stranger. Finally Gilbert had found friends and comfort.      Gilbert went on to graduate high school in Gillette at the age of 19. However, his life with Dr. McHenry was cut short within the year when his mother married a rancher and moved into the real wilds of Wyoming - strangely, only about 30 miles from where my father homesteaded and I lived.      We met in Gillette, both going to high school. And that's the start of many stories. I promise I won't tell -------.   : ) And here he is, in Colorado by rushing Clear Creek, 52 years later.

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