... and no, not French-Canadian, since to my knowledge, Canada never played a role or at least not a major one in World War One.
As the title suggests, it's a real letter from an enlisted man that served in the very beginning. Unfortunately, he doesn't mention his regiment or Company, so I might not be able to track his exact service.
The person who translated it is a good friend of mine, and is fluent in French. He told me, my friend, that the soldier was very illiterate and it took "some time" to decipher it.
I hope some of you will find it as interesting as me, for I discovered it outdoors in an old trunk. And rmember, this document has survived nearly... what? Ninety years or so? Incrediable!
Key:
[ ] Brackets is the translator, my friend, speaking.
*
“Somewhere [written in English] in the land of Pointcarre. August 1, 1915 [European date is day, month, year]." [Original letter is dated in pencil - 1/8/15]
Dear Brother and Sister-in-Law,
I’m taking advantage of this time of rest to give you my news, which is otherwise excellent. For several days, now, we’re on leave. The company (battalion) is on the front line, but dozen or so of us have stayed behind to take grenade classes (or “antichrist” classes, if you like). They call us the “Pickle Artillery” because we make bombs using jelly jars – it’s hilarious, is you like, - but we hurry because it’s terrible, all the work, ;et me tell you. I’m assured that the Krauts (“the Fritzes”) are receiving a good one on the nut (“noggin”), standing a good chance eating weeds by the root (or “eating dirt”) for the rest of their days.
We’re also learning how to throw up to fifty yards. I can tell you that takes some “oomph.”
I haven’t received letters for quite some time. I think that you’re being negligent as always, right? C’mon… just a little word from the heart to cheer me up!
I lost the address to your current lodgings that my sweetheart had given me, so that’s why I’m addressing them [the letters] c/o her address. Be sure to give me your next address.
I got a letter from Willie Calharetto. I tells me that Mama was sick for a few days… I hope she’s doing better now. [The following is hard to read, but I think he says] They’re talking about a mumps outbreak all the way to Villetto… which is why he wrote to me. I hope it’s just a rumour.
Miss Alma would love to hear some news from me, so it would seem. It’s unfortunate that her wishes aren’t always fulfilled. [Reference, I believe, back to them no writing him].
I had some news from Clano[?] de Tiarn[?] He’s having trouble maneuvering – he has bile in his bones, but he says he’s still going to be a soldier? I hope not. It’s not worth it to serve if it means it’s going to destroy him.
We hope to have a big meal soon… it’s well overdue. I’m anxiously awaiting it because I haven’t had much problem with dysentery for a while. Our adversaries haven’t paid much attention to us here at the front for some time. They’re too busy “demolishing His Majesty’s subjects” – cigars. They come in all sorts of “colors,” it seems. I swear they’re not easy to grasp [understand]. They’re saints in devil’s clothing. And when it’s cold, our eyes play tricks on us… the famous trickery. But as the song says, “Halt, you shall not pass.”
I close by saying have a good evening. Please give my news to Rod.
Arthur.
