The poor old father, struck down by paralysis, has been slowly dying for months. The rest of the family, the old mother, four small children and a young girl, are entirely dependent on the wages of my maid, except for 110 francs ($23) a month, given as allowance by the French Government to those whose men are fighting. The old mother has a patch of ground where she grows a few vegetables. One boy of fourteen receives a few francs as electrician (the only wage earner at home). Out of her wages of $20.60 a month, my good Marie has helped her family, bought clothes and medicines for the sick father and the children, and managed to send twice a month, for the last three and one-half years, a box to the prisoner brother. Naturally, all her savings are gone. This is typical of thousands of families all over France—it is not a hard-luck story.
These monthly boxes sent to the prisoners usually contain a half pound of coffee, costing 28 cents; a quarter pound of sugar, costing 5 cents; one-half pound of chocolate, costing 25 cents; one-half pound of rice, costing 18 cents; one-half pound of butter, costing 50 cents; one-half pound of figs, costing 14 cents; one box of sardines, costing 42 cents; one jar of jam, costing 25 cents; one can of condensed milk, costing 55 cents; one box of dates, costing 35 cents; one piece of soap, costing 20 cents; two packages of cigarettes, costing 25 cents; one pair of wool socks; one cotton shirt; packing, costing 50 cents; one box of meat and beans, costing 39 cents.
The letter of Marie's brother is as follows:
"Madame permits me to address to her my sincere thanks for the money which allows me to purchase some strengthening food, which my poor state of health so greatly demands.
"Since my arrival in Switzerland, I asked no further help from my sister nor my family, who, as Madame knows, have struggled against such great difficulties, due to present conditions. How much they have voluntarily borne during my stay in Germany, when it was so urgent! It is absolutely certain that if I am still in this world it is to thanks of the solicitude of my sister and of my family, who deprived themselves daily in order to send me food.
"Being wounded the 29th of August, 1914, and made prisoner, I dragged about the hospital for five and one-half months. The 15th of February, 1915, I was sent to the camp at Cassel at the very moment of the outbreak of typhus, which appeared the 29th of February. I would not know how to describe to you, Madame, the scenes of horror which I witnessed at that time. I would have to write a book, even then I would lack words to give you the smallest conception of all the great misery whose ghastly impression will remain forever engraved in my soul.
"After nursing a large number of my comrades, attempting by my goodwill to make up for my inexperience, my own turn came. I was struck low by this appalling sickness the 19th of April, 1915. After a few days in the hospital I conquered this awful illness, but in what a state. I could not walk but with the aid of crutches. I was a human rag. The care which I ought to have had was substituted by a complete neglect on the part of the authorities, even the most ordinary and needful precautions were denied me.
"For the following two months I lay on the floor, only a threadbare blanket for covering. It is useless, Madame, to recite to you the treatment of utmost rigor to which I was subjected. It was the same for all of us. Alas, how many unfortunates have died of it! Two thousand five hundred are the official figures recognized by the German authorities in our hospital.
"They will have to answer before the tribunal of humanity for this horror added to so many others of which they are guilty. They are entirely responsible, for they never made the slightest effort to prevent contagion, or to attenuate, in any way, the hideous results. Quite the contrary! They remained inert, rejoicing in the work of desolation passing before their eyes. Their cynical ferocity permitted the German general commanding our camp to explain in the presence of these dying prisoners: 'I make war in my own way.' He made us feel, we unfortunate mori-bunds, that if we were left without the most elementary care of nursing, abandoned in a most tragic state, it was entirely due to him, the German general commanding.
"After a long time, the Red Cross, horrified by the ravages caused by this scourge, and by the indifference of the German authorities, obtained after great difficulty, the privilege of sending some French doctors to our camp at Cassel. These devoted men did their whole duty, more than their duty, no matter how trying and disheartening. There, where the deepest despair reigned, their arrival gave us a gleam of hope. By their sublime abnegation and absolute devotion, they succeeded in stamping out this pest; alas, by the sacrifice of their lives. Two of our dear doctors thus paid the debt, but to those who saw them at their work—courageous, cheering, consoling their poor comrades, prey to this vile disease, the remembrance of them will remain forever vivid and holy—these two heroes.