On Bastille Day the little bastille in the Caribbean fell. All next day and into the night the Martiniquais, white & black, celebrated. They skipped and danced along the moonlit, mountain-girt water front of Fort-de-France. In shrill Martinique accents they sang the Marseillaise, cheered the new High Commissioner sent by the French Committee of Liberation, Henri-Etienne Hoppenot, and cursed the departing ruler, Vichyite Admiral Georges Robert. Offshore U.S. freighters, the first in eight months, waited to unload food for the hungry islanders, fuel for autos running on 8% gasoline, 92% rum.
A revolt of Martinique's tiny army garrison, capping the U.S....
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