War Days in Brittany

by Elsie Deming Jarves

I cannot do better than translate from the order of the day, read at the army headquarters, the following citation:

"The Vicontesse Henri de la Mettrie, whose husband went to the front early in August, 1914, became hospital-nurse in the military hospitals, first at Rennes, and afterwards at the front on the Somme, and on the Aisne, these last places since 1916. She has just become the object of highly laudatory 'citation' in general orders of the army for the 18th of February, 1918, in the following terms: 'Has shown, during the bombardment of the ambulance of ————, the utmost courage, devotion and sang froid. On the 30th of November, 1917, her ambulance was subjected to a prolonged bombardment and, although slightly wounded herself from bursting shell, she immediately rescued two dangerously injured stretcher bearers, who fell at her side. She refused to seek shelter and showed the greatest courage throughout all danger.

"The Croix de Guerre is accorded with this citation. Madame de la Mettrie has further earned the gratitude of her compatriots by giving her blood, by infusion, to save the life of one of her wounded men (dying in her hospital at the front) and she had the joy of knowing she had saved his life." Let me add in passing, that, before the war, the Vicontesse de la Mettrie was a lively, gay young woman of fashion, fond of automobiling, hunting, traveling and dancing. The contrast of these carefree days before the war when young, rich and lovely, with a devoted husband and a loving family about her, she could reasonably look forward to every happiness—and the present tragic months under the German guns must be at times overwhelming.

Her last posts have been in such dangerous zones, often under bombardment night and day, that, before the war-office allowed her to go, she was obliged to sign three papers, stating, respectively: First—that she had no children or parents dependent on her; second—that she fully realized the danger, and went at her own risk and peril; third—that her husband knew when and where she was going, and fully gave his consent.

Those people in America who think war-nursing consists of attending to nice, clean, interesting young men in big, airy, spotless wards, with sunshine pouring in at the open windows, flowers on a table near the bed, and pretty Red Cross nurses serving wine, jellies and afternoon tea, would be rather surprised to look in upon these ambulance-stations at the front, behind the first dressing stations.

Imagine a shelltorn, gunswept desert; low, wooden encampments partitioned off into long rooms, full to overflowing with wounded; ankle-deep mud separating the different sheds; appalling food; no possibility of baths or even elementary cleanliness; no comfort of any kind. For sleeping quarters each nurse has a cubicle 5 feet by 9 feet, a cot, a chair, a washbasin on a box, and a small trunk for her clothes. Under the cot is a hole, long and large and deep enough for a person to lie in, into which they pop when the bombardment alarm is given. The damp cold is intense in these desolated regions, the work equally so. Always on the alert for gas attacks or shells, always ready, night and day, for the arrival of freshly wounded from the trenches, only a few yards away, operations often, deaths often, fatigue always, dirt, stenches, vermin, the sacrifice of youth, good looks and ease—these are some of the demands that a military nurse under army orders must consider all in a day's work.

The Croix de Guerre is the highest decoration given by the French Government for deeds of valor or endurance under fire, and many are the sons of France who wear it on their blue tunics. That it also gleams on the uniforms of some of her daughters, shows how unfailing is the heroism and patriotism inspiring alike the men and women of France.

All these four long, weary years this has been the lot of the French.

Behind the lines reigns a constant anxiety. In the cities, in the villages, in the lonely farms, everywhere, the homes are empty of their men-folk. Millions of families living in fear of what crushing news the next hours may bring. Lucky those households whose men are still in the fighting line.

A slight idea of the degradation and misery endured in the German prison camps may be gathered from a letter received from the brother of one of my maids. He is now at Leysin, in Switzerland, trying to regain his health and recover his eyesight. At times he is almost blind, the result of the typhus. If he loses it completely, he will indeed be a helpless burden to his family, as he is a cabinetmaker by trade. His father and mother are humble folk who have brought up their nine children honestly and well, educating them, giving each a good trade, and, before the war, looking forward themselves to a well-earned rest in their old age. Now this large family is completely ruined and broken up. This eldest son almost blind, the second son disappeared since 1914 in the holacust of the war, the third son fighting in Italy. Next month the fourth boy, barely eighteen, joins the colors.