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Dvr H.Adler
PAL/30765
650, G.T.Coy R.A.S.C
“B”Platoon
C.M.F

10 October.

There is a bloke who is now singing a song “oh wife, my wife, how I love you! —

Yvette, my darling, where can I find the words to tell you the extent of my love for you, the extent that I miss you, the extent that my heart pines for you!

[ Six lines of the same story- she is with him always]

It is my only free moment and I don’t know how long it will last! – so I am writing to you, darling, I have not gone to bed because I would have slept too heavily  and I would no longer have been with you.  I write to you – like that I am with you. And that is more restful than even the sleep of the dead.

But I mustn’t be blamed for   the incoherence that you will find in this letter, as in all that you receive from me since my departure.  The fog is always there. It is very firmly lodged in my brain. But my heart is strangely lively.

[You, you, beauty, you are here —-]

Yvette, my little one, I see you because you are here. This is not Descartes. Nor is it any other philosopher. The truth is: You are here, so I am. No bullshit, darling. It’s true. Without you, I would be an automaton who eats drinks, works, and sleeps. But you are here, so I am something living, something—

{More of the same. Because of you I see the beauty of the mountains etc]

 the west asphalt of the road which ploughs through the green mountains, and the sweetness       which flows from the face of Christ in that  sombre little church of the ruined village.  You are there, and I see the faces of the starving kids and think of Ouri.  And I am happy that he far from all this.

It is extraordinary darling, and I will tell it to you one day when I will be close to you, when I can see your glance – brother of mine- I will tell you then how beautiful this country is and how poor it is.

“There was once a country which was so beautiful, so beautiful. Filled with green mountains, with forests, with rivers with gardens. And this country had vast field covered with golden wheat and gardens producing the most diverse fruits. And there was bread. And there was wine.

And there were those who owned a lot and those who owned little.  And those who owned a lot wanted to have more. And those who owned little wanted to live. Then they gave all power to a man who promised them everything: to bring down  those who did not have enough, and to give an Empire to those who wanted more. He made bayonets, canon and aeroplanes. He had built [prisons for those who wanted peace. And the beautiful country became very poor. In order to secure an Empire, he had to make war. He had to have soldiers. Then he made a law to make children. Then there were lots of kids (10 per family) and there was no more bread, there was no more wine.  There were canons. And there was blood.

Other people’s blood, above all.

But then, the others came. And their bombs-

But now, I must interrupt this letter. To work! I won’t sleep I won’t write any more follies. (Lucky that I am called to work. Otherwise, how could you put up with my twaddle!)? But our love will go with me. As it did yesterday. And tomorrow.

I love you little one. Everything goes back to that: I love you.

   Your

Henri.