WW1 Era Letter Written by Wounded French Soldier Recovering In Hospital, 1917. Mentions distrust of the French Government and much more. Details in comments.
WW1 Era Letter Written by Wounded French Soldier Recovering In Hospital, 1917. Mentions distrust of the French Government and much more. Details in comments.
This letter was written by a French soldier named Louis Constant Rochereau. He was born on July 11th 1892. He would volunteer for service in 1913 and would be mobilized at the start of the war. He would serve in a variety of different regiments but would finally end up in the 107th infantry Regiment. In late 1916, he would be wounded by shrapnel from an artillery shell and would spend a great deal of time recovering in a hospital in Nice, France, which is where this letter was written.
The letter reads:
>“ Nice, 9th November 1917 – 2 o’clock
>Dear parents,
>Today I’m writing a few lines to talk with you for a moment. I’m glad that you are all in fairly good health. Things are quite difficult right now, but they are getting better and better. Let’s hope that before long we will all be reunited. Alas, if only the war were over it would be such happiness! Nothing makes me believe that it will end soon, at least not in our favor, for it’s shameful. The current administration of France is nothing but scandals, while poor men die victims of their courage, and others do shady business with the enemy. It’s shameful. The leaders of the government do not deserve the trust placed in them. Let’s keep hoping, but more calmly, for the situation is getting more and more confused to the disadvantage of the Allies. Troops continue to fall back toward Italy. Even here in Nice, people are beginning to grow anxious at the news from Italy. I am happy that you are receiving my letters. On my side, I receive one almost every day. I have also received one recently from Alfred Rochereau. He tells me he is in the hospital.
>His eye is still causing him pain. Yes, at the time I wasn’t satisfied when the head doctor received your letter, because I only got news from you the next day. As a result, I went four days without any news from you, and that’s what had upset me. But now that I’m regularly getting your letters, I’m very happy. As I told you, what had bothered me was not receiving anything, while the head doctor had a letter. Let’s not talk about it anymore — I know you forgive me.
>I had sent a postcard to Grandfather for his birthday. Did he receive it? You didn’t mention it. When you see Triau, give him my regards and tell him I’d rather be a young ox and be a farmer than a sick soldier. Also remember me to my cousins Joreau and give them my respects.
>I’m also going to write to my depot at (?) so that if anything arrives addressed to me, they’ll forward it home, because my Aunt Angèle told me she had sent a package to (?) which will probably be returned to the depot. I expect to receive the package you’re sending me today or tomorrow.
>But it will be unnecessary to send me anything for now, except for my shaving utensils, which I really need. Everything can be found here, and since everything is (?), goods are cheaper here than in Igraves(?). Some comrades go out into town every day. I’m with good comrades — we are four sergeants and one quartermaster sergeant in our room. I’m being well treated at the infirmary. I have a hot-water bottle at night so that my feet don’t get cold. So don’t worry about me; I’m gradually recovering.
>Thank you for including some Tourangeaux newspapers in the package, because I’m preparing for the post-war period in theory — I’m making plans. I have to keep myself busy, so I’ve got books on geology, botany, and all branches of agriculture. In any case, even if it’s not useful to me, it certainly can’t do any harm.
>You did well to subscribe to L’Écho de Paris. Every day we get Paris newspapers, the Alpes-Maritimes papers, and even Swiss newspapers publishing German communiqués. The weather here is splendid; yesterday it rained a bit, but it only lasted an hour. The temperature is rather strange — it’s quite mild, but from 3 p.m. to 7 p.m. it’s cold, and the rest of the time the temperature is very mild. This is due to the Mediterranean winds and the mountains close to the city. I hope you’ll find someone to do your sowing under good conditions, because it’s starting to be time. I suspected that for the three days there was nothing to be done. But as for the Bonds and Obligations of the D.D., that’s another matter. Anyway, do what seems best.
>So, my dear parents, receive my warmest kisses and my kindest regards.
>Rochereau, Sergeant.
>Warm kisses to Grandfather and to Marie-Antoinette. Congratulations to Marie-Antoinette — I’m glad to see she’s making progress in the art of running a household, and by doing so is helping Mother considerably.
1 Comment
This letter was written by a French soldier named Louis Constant Rochereau. He was born on July 11th 1892. He would volunteer for service in 1913 and would be mobilized at the start of the war. He would serve in a variety of different regiments but would finally end up in the 107th infantry Regiment. In late 1916, he would be wounded by shrapnel from an artillery shell and would spend a great deal of time recovering in a hospital in Nice, France, which is where this letter was written.
The letter reads:
>“ Nice, 9th November 1917 – 2 o’clock
>Dear parents,
>Today I’m writing a few lines to talk with you for a moment. I’m glad that you are all in fairly good health. Things are quite difficult right now, but they are getting better and better. Let’s hope that before long we will all be reunited. Alas, if only the war were over it would be such happiness! Nothing makes me believe that it will end soon, at least not in our favor, for it’s shameful. The current administration of France is nothing but scandals, while poor men die victims of their courage, and others do shady business with the enemy. It’s shameful. The leaders of the government do not deserve the trust placed in them. Let’s keep hoping, but more calmly, for the situation is getting more and more confused to the disadvantage of the Allies. Troops continue to fall back toward Italy. Even here in Nice, people are beginning to grow anxious at the news from Italy. I am happy that you are receiving my letters. On my side, I receive one almost every day. I have also received one recently from Alfred Rochereau. He tells me he is in the hospital.
>His eye is still causing him pain. Yes, at the time I wasn’t satisfied when the head doctor received your letter, because I only got news from you the next day. As a result, I went four days without any news from you, and that’s what had upset me. But now that I’m regularly getting your letters, I’m very happy. As I told you, what had bothered me was not receiving anything, while the head doctor had a letter. Let’s not talk about it anymore — I know you forgive me.
>I had sent a postcard to Grandfather for his birthday. Did he receive it? You didn’t mention it. When you see Triau, give him my regards and tell him I’d rather be a young ox and be a farmer than a sick soldier. Also remember me to my cousins Joreau and give them my respects.
>I’m also going to write to my depot at (?) so that if anything arrives addressed to me, they’ll forward it home, because my Aunt Angèle told me she had sent a package to (?) which will probably be returned to the depot. I expect to receive the package you’re sending me today or tomorrow.
>But it will be unnecessary to send me anything for now, except for my shaving utensils, which I really need. Everything can be found here, and since everything is (?), goods are cheaper here than in Igraves(?). Some comrades go out into town every day. I’m with good comrades — we are four sergeants and one quartermaster sergeant in our room. I’m being well treated at the infirmary. I have a hot-water bottle at night so that my feet don’t get cold. So don’t worry about me; I’m gradually recovering.
>Thank you for including some Tourangeaux newspapers in the package, because I’m preparing for the post-war period in theory — I’m making plans. I have to keep myself busy, so I’ve got books on geology, botany, and all branches of agriculture. In any case, even if it’s not useful to me, it certainly can’t do any harm.
>You did well to subscribe to L’Écho de Paris. Every day we get Paris newspapers, the Alpes-Maritimes papers, and even Swiss newspapers publishing German communiqués. The weather here is splendid; yesterday it rained a bit, but it only lasted an hour. The temperature is rather strange — it’s quite mild, but from 3 p.m. to 7 p.m. it’s cold, and the rest of the time the temperature is very mild. This is due to the Mediterranean winds and the mountains close to the city. I hope you’ll find someone to do your sowing under good conditions, because it’s starting to be time. I suspected that for the three days there was nothing to be done. But as for the Bonds and Obligations of the D.D., that’s another matter. Anyway, do what seems best.
>So, my dear parents, receive my warmest kisses and my kindest regards.
>Rochereau, Sergeant.
>Warm kisses to Grandfather and to Marie-Antoinette. Congratulations to Marie-Antoinette — I’m glad to see she’s making progress in the art of running a household, and by doing so is helping Mother considerably.
>Rochereau.”