Elisabetta di Picolellis Henraux's " last letter to her mother," circulated among her American cousins in 1915
Handaucourt 6.1 1915
Dearest Mother, I have finally seen Lucien and give my joy -- our joy, rather -- nobody can know the journey we took. Lucien wrote to us on Sunday to leave on Monday morning at 6 for Handaucourt. Of course at that hour no taxi in sight so we were nearly frantic. At last we managed to get in & catch the tram. At Creil (?) we got down to have our "sauf-conduit-vise par la gendarmerie" -- crowds of people nearly suffocated us at the "Guichets" At last our turn comes -- the rudest gendarme I ever saw would not give us the permission to go in, nothing, told us to go straight back to Paris, as it was "interdite de visite des militaires dans la zone des armies" I thought I would faint with despair & disappointment so we go back to the station & ask to be let in a minute to get our bags in the train -- once there we are seized with reckless daring & we hide at the bottom of a compartment & off we go -- risking prison! With the kind help of a farmer who adopted us as his "cousins" we got down without trouble at the station before. There I spied soldiers of the 70th & fell into their arms -- they took us under their wing & by getting a carriage we arrived here in Handaucourt. It is a filthy, damp, microscopic village where nothing is to be found -- barely food. I live with Lucien in a hovel fit for pigs -- so damp -- everything is sopping wet -- broken windows, no W.C. in the whole place (neither in nor out) To get into our room we have to pass through the entrance, kitchen, bedroom of our hosts, where they sleep four in one bed & a cot, with three dogs & four cats & a horrible filthy child called "Pipi." Lucien's "ordinance" does maid for me, cleans my shoes & brings me a spoonful of hot water in the morning to wash in -- we eat in the same room. Last night, not wanting to wake up the people I jumped out of the window & climbed in again -- Lucien aghast at my agility & acrobatisme -- well I don't care a rap-- I am more pleased here than in a palace. I found Lucien in such a state of neurasthene and such unhappiness so overcome & emotione at seeing us it was pitiful. My poor mother-in-law had to do eight km in the night in a baroccino to find a bed. Here Lucien does nothing so I see him all day -- they seem to be leaving in two or three days. Anyhow, it is quite something to have seen each other for so short a time -- dear me -- non ne posso piu of this horrible life. In night to hear the cannon it is terrific -- day & night so loud -- we are just 30 km from the fighting lines. Tell papa how I thank him for having come.
Love to you all -- I will write very soon
Elisabetta