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BRITISH CELLAR •CAFE HEARTBELGIANSIBy John A. ParrisLONDON, Sept. 9 (UP). — Thedangerous underground trail from Belgium leads eventually to a little cellar cafe back of Buckingham ^lace, known to its select clientele s “Aux Neuf Provinces whereescapees come to drink wine andtell of their exploits.It’s probably the only cafe of its kind in the world, a cozy little rendezvous for lucky Belgians who ^ave escaped from the Germans. ‘Just Another Cafe . . •’To the uninitiated who pass in from the street through the door of Gaston's for a drink and a meal, it’s just another cafe w'here the«od is uninteresting and the drink hat you would expect any place else in wartime Londbn.Few of the people who eat at .Gaston’s know that a little bit of Belgium is tucked away under their feet where English is rarely spoken, where red wine and Flemish songs are mixed and where “bif-tek always is on the menu.It may be Gaston’s upstairs, but in the cellar it’s Aux Neuf Provinces, named for the nine prov-tees in Belgium.You’ve got to be a member to get below, and non-Belgians are about as scarce as steak at the swanky Savoy, whicn is non-existent. Ninety-eight per cent of the people who frequent Aux Neuf Province?” are Belgians who escaped through the underground route. And they all have a story to tell.‘Just Like Home’The bar was crowded when we stepped into the cellar from the€urtained-off stairs with a prema-arely gray-haired Belgian who had spent three months on the underground route out of Belgium.“Just like home, said the Belgian in broken English. If I didn’t know this was London I would wear it was a cafe in Brussels. Gaston, fat and temperamental, s‘ood behind the bar, pouring wine and shouting as Gaston always shouts. He yelled across the room to Mari-Lou, his pretty 19-year-old daughter, whom the boys call “a ®larb of a doll.“Customers. Clear one of those‘tables.Friend Knew Everybody . My friend knew everybody in the cellar. Some were in the air force,Some in the army and some in the avy. He pointed to a tall, young ♦man in civilian clothes.That’s Francois, he explained. He's the chap who went over to Belgium a while back and dug up ^he Belgian air force colors which f^/ere buried when the Germans came in. Dug up the colors that ‘King Albert gave a Belgian squad. ‘Von in the last war—right under tHc♦ noses of’ the Germans and camt ♦back with them.”1. My friend sipped his wine for a mmg time in silence, then said:♦ “I had some good news this morning. My brother has broken out of prison. He was a hostage‘and was scheduled to be shot next *week.0) Two U. S. Officers ThereThere wrere two American Army^officers sitting at another table. *My friend explained that one was Major .Jack W. Votion, assistant♦ military attache at the Americanttmbassy, from Hollywood, Cal., and ie o‘her Capt. Robert Grosjean of ‘Washington, D. C., who married !the youngest daughter of former »U. S. Ambassador to Russia, Joseph C. Davies.I Both are Belgian-boi*n Americans, my friend explained. They come here quite often.The big man standing at the bar . caught my friend’s eye and said hello. He picked up his glass ana , came over to our table. We wereintroduced.V The big man is one of the vital links in ihe Belgian underground. Things got too hot for him, and he had to leave the country. Here he acts as liaison between the Belgian government and the underground forces.
Newspaper Details
Port Arthur News
Port Arthur, Texas, US
Thu, Sep 09, 1943
Page 19
Full Page
Clipped by
Anonymous
USA 19 Oct 2019
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