“My Beloved Poilus”
Divonne-les-bains, France,
August 2, 1914.
Dear Mother:
The awful war we have all been dreading is upon us—France is Mobilizing. At five o’clock yesterday morning the tocsin sounded from the Mairie (village hall) and men, women, and children all flocked to hear the proclamation which the Mayor of the village read. It called upon all of military age—between twenty years and fifty years—to march at once, and inside of twenty-four hours five hundred men had gone, they knew not where. The bravery of these villagers—men and women—is remarkable, and not to be forgotten. No murmuring, no complaining,—just, “Ma Patrie,” tying up the little bundle—so little—and going; none left but old men, women and children.
We have started teaching the women and girls to make bandages, sponges, etc., for the hospital which will be needed here.
Divonne-Les-Bains, France.
August 23, 1914.
Your letter came yesterday—twenty days on the way—but I was fortunate to get it at all; so many of these poor people, whose nearest and dearest have gone to fight for their country, have had no word from them since they marched away, and they do not know where they are.
From this little village 500 men left the first day of mobilization; there is not a family who has not some one gone, and from some both fathers and sons have gone, as the age limit is from twenty to fifty years.
I am filled with admiration and respect for these people. The courage of both the men and women is remarkable. There is no hesitation, and no grumbling, and everyone tries to do whatever he or she can to help the cause.
I do not know if I told you, in my last letter, of the poor lady who walked all night through the dark and storm to see her son who was leaving the next morning. All the horses and motors had been taken by the Government for the army, so she started at eleven o’clock at night, all by her self, and got here about five in the morning—her son left at seven, so she had two hours with him. While there are such mothers in France she cannot fall. There are many such stories I might tell you, but I have not the time.
The “Red Cross” has started a branch hospital here, and I have been helping them to get it in order. It is just about ready now, and we may get soldiers any day.
I have classes every morning and find many of the women very quick to learn the rudiments of nursing. Every one in the place is making supplies and our sitting room is a sort of depot where they come for work.
If my patient is as well in October as she is now I am going to stay and give my services to the “Red Cross.” If I have to go home with her I will come back—I would be a coward and deserter if I did not do all I could for these poor brave people.