A PEASANT MOTHER'S LETTER

Dominion, Volume 8, Issue 2350, 5 January 1915, Page 7

A PEASANT MOTHER'S LETTER

THE MISERY WHERE GERMANS COME. Two days ago, writes the correspondent of tho "Manchester Guardian," I met a young woman, one of the refugees of Lorraine, wno had harrowing tales to tell mo of the German occupation of the French side of the province, and the horrors she described were such that one could scarcely belicvo them. She had fortunately escaped from Longwy at the beginning of tho war, but loft her father there, her youngor brother, and her sister. In a few days all were scattered. Some fled in tne direotion of Verdun, othors towards Toul. and others towards Nancy. Of Longwy, she said, not a house is left standing, and the same might be said of every village through which she passed. To-day I have seen letters which confirm every one of her stories. The reading of some of these will make tho blood of the men in the trenches boil.

One of the letters is from the wife of a peasant in Lorraine, who was mobilised early and who is still fighting in tho trenches. She writes:—

My dear Henri, —You have asked me why I did not write to you, but you do not know that the Germans have been with us three weeks, and have done us all the harm they could. . . . Our child was born on August 28, in the midst of a horrible bombardment, and I was alone—mv poor mother and my father were still with me —but I must say nothing of all that 1 It was on the following day that we were made prisoners, and I was dragged to the church with tho rest, and my baby. I will not tell you what we suffered. They would not let us get anything to eat. Wo were almost dying of hunger. It was bad during the day, but what they did to us during the night was still worse—they threatened to shoot us —they used to climb up to the tower and drop bombs and frighten us. On September 1, a day of sorrow for all of us, a shell struck and killed ray mother. Helena and our poor child Fernando wore also killed.

• Our dear little Fernande was shot through the right side, and sho suffered for an hour. "Mother," she said, "take me out of the church, it is bad to bo here!" Sho implored me for something to sat, and I had nothing to give her. "Mother," she said at last, "I am dying, yes, I feel that I am dying." When, she was struck by tho shell my poor mother had our new-born baby in her arms, and the baby was shot in tho log. It lived till September 18, for she was a very strong littlo baby girl, like our Feniande.

The day after my mother was killed there were more Prussians te come, and when they saw all the dead around — for there were thirty dead—they made us get out into tho field. There a Bhower of bullets and shells received us, throwing the ground full into our face, but none of ub were killed. I ran like the others, but I fell down twice,,and could go on no farther. I could no longer stand on my legs or move my arms. But I took courage again. You know that lam courageous, and I started to walk as far aa Moncel. ' Thoro I took our baby to the hospital of the Red Cross. But the wound was too bad. I got a passport te go to Luneville, for we could only pass., where there were Germans. . , .

Now I beg you do not worry any more over what is past and those who belonged to you. It is all over, and you have only me to think of. But I am able to take care of myself, so do not worry. You see that I have been brave, and courage 'givoß us strength. It is for this that you must also have courage to avenge your two children and our poor family. Try and be as courageous as you can to orußh them all, as many_ as you can, not to let them come into our country again. For if I were allowed I also would take a rifle and would try to kill a couple. You can show this letter to all your companions, so that all the French soldiers who know it may avenge ua for our hatred, for these barbarians will always grow greater. Do not worry about me, for I have no children left. If the Prussians again come I shall not wait for them. I shall leave with the soldiers. I shall never again be under their heels.

The wife of poor Maurice was shot dead at her door, with her maid and her two boys. ... Only I ask you to send tiiem (the Germans) bullets, to fire them thiok into them when you can, to shoot them down, for that is all they deserve.