Prelude to the Second Weltkrieg - Part 2: Commune of France

February 10, 1937

February 10, 1937 – Paris, France

My brother Henri,

Why am I not surprised? Another pretty face, another broken heart soon to follow. Please brother! Please! Promise me you won't fall into another one of your moods when this one rejects you. Or at the very least, remember that there's the Simone-in-the-brothel who can take your mind off your heartbreak when this other Simone inevitably leaves you for a flashier, better looking man.

If by some miracle she has not broken your heart by the time you reply to this letter, inform her that I send my regrets and hope she will come to her senses sooner rather than later.

I should inform you that Pierre did call one more time, half drunk and crying the entire time. It was satisfying, in a way, to see him reduced to this after he'd pledged himself to me. I couldn't make out much between the tears, but I do understand the other woman – this Sylvie – has left him too. Perhaps he'll do the patriotic thing and join the army. If you see him, save a shell for after the Germans are dealt with.

Don't think I didn't notice you avoiding the discussion of the German problem in your letter. I know soldiers are not supposed to concern themselves with the when and why of war, but certainly you have an opinion in that pig-headed brain of yours? It's all the girls in the factory talk about these days: when all the shells we're putting together will finally be put to use. This latest talk about finally retaking Haute-Savoie from the Swiss has the agitant press excited. Chairman Jouhaux claims he'll consider force if the Swiss can't see reason, but I don't think anyone knows what happens after that. Surely the Germans are too focused on their own problems to worry about a small strip of mountains where everyone inside already speaks French, right?

This poor Silmani sounds like he could use a friend in the regiment. Perhaps you could teach him to count properly sometime? If nothing else he should know how to keep track of how much ammunition the tank has, right? I'm sure you were all too hard on the poor man.

Speaking of poor things, I met with Claire the other day. She's doing well, but becoming a mother has sure taken a toll on her. Her little one is adorable but has quite a pair of lungs. Claire was late feeding him by maybe ten minutes on account of meeting me, and the boy wailed loud enough to draw every set of eyes on us from across the Luxembourg gardens. Her husband Marc is also doing well. He was just approved to compose some sort of new kind of jazz piece for the Worker's Palace, so he's been very busy and left poor Claire all alone with the child. I will have to plan on visiting her at home the next time I can get a full day off. She still insists she'll return to her job in the Comite offices as soon as the boy's ready for a nursery, but I'll believe it when I see it!

I also received a very nice letter from Uncle Robert. He asked after mother of course, but also wanted to check in and see if we needed anything. It sounds like his election to the Bourse Generale is all but assured at this point. Once he's in all those important meetings I'll stop bothering you for political information and press him for it instead! But his commune election isn't for another two months so you're stuck with me for a while more I'm afraid!

As it turns out, just after I received your letter mother did have a slip on the ice on her way to work. She was bruised a bit but she only had to take that one day off work, and she's doing quite well now. It wasn't all pain though – it did finally convince her to agree to that cane! So your money has gone to good use, thank you brother. I just feel bad that she had to survive the worst parts of the war with the two of us and father already gone. For a woman who's only forty-two years old, she sure does have a very frail body. It's amazing we survived at all, frankly, but mother is nothing if not resilient.

I hope you're staying warm! The snow is going away now and should be all clear by tomorrow midday. Best of luck with Simone, and don't forget, a minimum of wallowing when she turns you down brother!

Your loving sister,

Margeurite