Eyewitnesses: First Combat of Four Eloquent French Soldiers

French Bivouac During the First Battle of the Marne

Marc Bloch, Infantry

It is likely that as long as I live, at least if I do not become senile in my last days, I shall never forget the 10th of September, 1914. Even so, my recollections of that day are not altogether precise. Above all they are poorly articulated, a discontinuous series of images, vivid in themselves but badly arranged like a reel of movie film that showed here and there large gaps and the unintended reversal of certain scenes. . .

Despite so many painful sights, it does not seem to me that I was sad on that morning of September 11. Needless to say, I did not feel like laughing. I was serious, but my solemnity was without melancholy, as befitted a satisfied soul; and I believe that my comrades felt the same. I recall their faces, grave yet content. Content with what? Well, first content to be alive. It was not with-out a secret pleasure that I contemplated the large gash in my canteen, the three holes in my coat made by bullets that had not injured me, and my painful arm, which, on inspection, was still intact. On days after great carnage, except for particularly painful personal grief, life appears sweet. Let those who will condemn this self-centered pleasure. Such feelings are all the more solidly rooted in individuals who are ordinarily only half aware of their existence. (Later, a notable historian.  Executed as member of the Resistance, 1944.)

Jean Galtier-Boissière, Hussar

All of us, we believed in the story of the Alboches who would surrender for a tartine [a slice of bread with butter]. Persuaded of the crushing superiority of our artillery and our aircraft, we imagined the war naively as something of a military parade, a rapid succession of easy and brilliant victories. The thunderclap that followed, in showing us the terrifying disproportion be-tween the engines of death and the tiny soldiers, whose nervous systems were not up to such a shock, abruptly made us understand that the struggle then beginning would be a terrible ordeal. (Later, journalist and satirist.  Survived until 1966.)

Jacques Brunel de Pérard, Artilleryman

In some sense, and from a strictly personal point of view, I will regret these two months that I have just lived through which, alongside very difficult privations, have carried with them emotions of marvelous richness and variety. Although I do not have the slightest fear of death, it would be a shame if I do not return. Up to now, I have known how to make war. (Last diary entry.  The journalist and literary critic was KIA 27 September 1914)

Abbé Eugène Evrard, Medic and Chaplain

I have been wounded twice within fifteen days, and the shock was so violent and the part of my body struck so crucial, that both times I believed I was only a few moments from death. And, you see, I keep an ineffaceable memory of these moments. In full conscience, I have made the sacrifice of my life, with joy, for the re-christianization of our country, for the greater love of God on the part of my parents and my friends, and I do not feel the least bitter-ness. This sacrifice will be even more easy and joyful now, because I have reflected a great deal on it since then. (Notable Catholic journalist and editor. Died during the WWII occupation.)

Source: The Embattled Self: French Soldiers’ Testimony of the Great War by Leonard V. Smith; order HERE.