LES CARNETS DE GUERRE DE LOUIS BARTHAS PDF

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Along with millions of other Frenchmen, Louis Barthas, a thirty-five-year-old become a classic:Les carnets de guerre de Louis Barthas, tonnelier, – Louis Barthas () was an excellent pupil but did not advance to secondary Les carnets de guerre de Louis Barthas, tonnelier. In , François Maspero took the risk of publishing Barthas's book, Les carnets de guerre de Louis Barthas, tonnelier, , written by.


Les Carnets De Guerre De Louis Barthas Pdf

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Bol Poilu, Louis Barthas Boeken, Poilu: The World War I Notebooks Of Free Download Joe DiMaggio and the Last Magic Number in Sports PDF Barthass book, les carnets de guerre de louis barthas, louis: poilu, the. Louis Barthas was a French corporal who served in the infantry on the Western Front of World . Create a book · Download as PDF · Printable version. Louis Barthas (* Juli in Homps (Dépt. Aude); † 4. Mai in Peyriac- Minervois (Dépt. Aude)) war ein französischer Küfer und Teilnehmer am Ersten Weltkrieg. Seine Kriegserlebnisse schilderte er in seinem postum veröffentlichten Buch Les carnets de guerre de Louis Barthas, . Buch erstellen · Als PDF herunterladen · Druckversion.

If Bostrom's article reminds us that we need to look beyond the front lines to understand the evolution of military tactics after , Andrew Orr makes clear that the French army was compelled by circumstance to be innovative in other ways as well.

It has long been established that the munitions industry, faced with the dramatic expansion in production goals that Bostrom's article so clearly articulates, came to rely on the mobilization of French women and colonial men. Janet Watson's important study of the mobilization of women in wartime Britain has demonstrated that the British Army increasingly recruited women to serve in uniformed and nonuniformed support roles, thus freeing up men for frontline service.

At first blush, the trajectory of female employment in the army seems predictable enough: the French army initially resisted hiring women, even as civilians, and then relented albeit reluctantly in , when every able-bodied man was needed in a combat role. Women were, in the eyes of many officers ordered to hire them, unreliable, unprofessional, and all too often outright immoral. Small wonder, then, that the army rushed to fire all women still on the payroll at the end of the war.

However, access to archival materials not previously available allows Orr to tell a story about women, work, and military identity in the s that prompts us to modify further, if not completely overturn, our understanding of the interwar years as a reassertion of masculinity and male predominance.

While many officers were quick to deride their female employees, it proved impossible, inefficient, and fiscally irresponsible to fire all women. Indeed, women hired during and after the war were invaluable in a postwar army depleted by wartime losses and revision of the military service law. Unlike conscripts, whose term of service in the early s was reduced to a mere eighteen months and by to one year , women could—and did—serve in a unit for many years.

One woman was thus worth at the very least one and a half conscript men! Women's continued employment in the army was by no means an unalloyed victory for gender equality: they were paid less than civilian men, and their eligibility for employment in the army derived, at least in the early s, primarily from their status as war widows.

As Orr demonstrates, however, ultimately it was women's second-class status that qualified them for employment in the civilian ranks of the French army: unlike conscripts, who gained the right to vote in in acknowledgment of the sacrifice of their wartime forebears, women could not vote and thus did not risk corrupting the military with disruptive radical ideas. Orr adds to the arguments of the historians of women already cited to show that the gender order of interwar France was more complex—and conflicted—than a simple misogynist backlash.

The exceptions are studies such as those of Marc Michel and Richard Fogarty on the colonial contribution to the war effort, most notably the recruitment of half a million soldiers for combat, many of them on the western front. In some parts of the empire, the principle of universal eligibility and the administrative infrastructure to guarantee the law's implementation prevailed, but in many colonies, including those of sub-Saharan Africa, which had contributed a significant number of men to the French forces, only children who were deemed financially needy qualified for the assistance that in France was given to all pupilles de la nation.

The consequences more generally of this differential and utilitarian attitude to the empire would only become more pronounced with the economic pressures of the interwar years.

Eventually it would contribute to the inability of successive French regimes to chart a peaceful path to decolonization after comparable issues around military service emerged during World War II. But what of those in France who had come to reject the war, its legitimacy, and the sacrifices it compelled?

Who from on called for an immediate end to the bloodletting, preferring a negotiated peace to unconditional victory? Were those who defined themselves as pacifists even more marginal in the French collective imagination than the unfortunate orphans of the most distant colonies? Curiously, while much attention has been paid as we have seen to the mutinies, concluding in the end that the influence of overt pacifism was marginal if not quite nonexistent, and also to the fluctuations of civilian as well as military morale in the subject of Renouvin's article , the history of pacifism during the war has suffered from the more general neglect of the political history of the conflict.

Despite publication of the output of the main socialist and labor antiwar bodies, the study of antiwar sentiment has been more vital for the interwar period than for the war itself. Ingram brings to light the impassioned debates and internal divisions of men and women who tried to reconcile in a time of war their patriotism and their pacifism.

Although most who participated in the congress believed that a lasting peace first had to be built on the definitive defeat of Prussian militarism, a minority called for immediate negotiations to end the war, whatever the territorial cost to France.

Louis Barthas

Their unequivocal repudiation of a war that had by the end of cost a million French lives was not widely shared even within the ranks of those who called themselves pacifists, but the cumulative effects of war, and the as yet uncertain prospects for victory, made the minority's repugnance understandable enough.

What they could not have known—and what Bostrom's article makes evident—is that by late the transformation of the nation's industrial infrastructure to accommodate new military tactics made victory on France's terms more likely than ever. But if the minority's repudiation of war fell on stony ground during the Great War, its arguments found more fertile soil in the interwar years when the human cost of that success became apparent along with the realization that what had been won in was anything but definitive.

The articles in this special issue thus prompt us to reconsider what, and who, should be central to our understanding of the experience and impact of the Great War for France.

Military history still has much to tell us about the conflict and its ultimate outcome, and there is more to be explored—and decided—about the nature of the soldiers' war, including the long-neglected other fronts on which the French fought, at the Dardanelles, in Macedonia, in Italy, and in Russia in But without begrudging the poilu his heroic stature and the trenches of the western front their iconic place in our conception of the war, the French success in organizing an industrial effort and waging a war ever more dependent on heavy artillery, aircraft, and tanks is ripe for reevaluation in its economic, social, and above all political dimensions.

France not only showed that it could sustain a war for democracy without entirely sacrificing democracy but also demonstrated rather against the perceptions of the French themselves that it was after all a major industrialized power. The failure to build on both those successes in the interwar period only makes this central dimension of the war more important—and more challenging—for longer-term interpretations of twentieth-century French history.

Women and children, once all but invisible in the collective and scholarly understanding of the war, are no longer peripheral to how we view the conflict and its aftermath.

This has become apparent in the restoration of the poilus' story to that of the families and civilian lives from which they came.

Yet this issue of French Historical Studies also suggests that in postwar France and throughout the empire, questions of gender and generation shed new light on an experience whose legacy, in November , was only beginning. Notes 1. All three speeches emphasized unity, resilience, and victory.

Only the second Verdun added the new spirit of Franco-German cooperation and the peaceful destiny of contemporary western Europe. For popular receptiveness to the war since , see Offenstadt, 14—18 aujourd'hui. See the website Europeana — at www. Reflected in English by two works: Hanna, Your Death Would Be Mine, an account of the life of one couple separated by combat on the front and based on their correspondence; and Barthas, Poilu.

Reissued in six editions, the last in , the year of Renouvin's death, it was never translated into English. Winter and Prost, Great War in History. The book has sparked controversy. Smith provides an illuminating study of the soldiers' testimony as literary construct in Embattled Self. Genevoix wrote a sequence of autobiographical novels, Ceux de 14, the first of which, Sous Verdun, was translated into English during the war as Neath Verdun, August—October There is no study of the memorial, but see the museum's website and newsletter at www.

Ferro's research was on Russia, not France, during the war. The term home front was first used in Britain in but did not become commonplace until World War II, when with aerial bombardment the civilian population indeed constituted a new front.

The terms used in France during Word War I were, in officialese, the interior and, in popular parlance, the rear as the opposite to, and complement of, the fighting front.

Louis Barthas et la postérité par Rémy Cazals

On all these issues, see Fridenson, French Home Front. Comparable arguments on the nature of the French state and its relationship to the economy have been developed by Rosanvallon; see esp.

In fact, it became a characteristic of this conflict: as people of all backgrounds faced the same horrific conditions in the trenches as one, the war itself helped break down the class barriers of the time. Why, then, have historians made so little mention of the references to social and cultural differences in such historical sources?

As the First World War was a time of exceptional geographical and social mixity, by virtue of both its magnitude and its duration, my initial goal was to study social encounters and class relationships in the trenches. But, for reasons which I shall return to at length below, the encounters have been depicted only through the eyes of members of the literate elites of French society. To pursue this matter I followed two major guiding principles. The first principle consisted in describing how—with which preju- dices, through which glasses, toward what ends—the intellectuals of the time, mostly consisting of students, scholars, novelists, artists, doctors or lawyers discovered those men of the lower classes whose existence they had ignored or simply looked down upon until mobilization.

The term may seem inappropriate because it encompasses sometimes different profiles—are doctors and lawyers necessarily intellectuals? Clearly, it does not refer exclusively to the intellectuals born with the Dreyfus Affair, people who publicly engage in critical thinking against the state, even if some of the war witnesses were activists during the Affair.

I use it for lack of a better word to describe the fraction of the elites who wrote the great majority of the available war testimonies. They were members of the cultural rather than the economic bourgeoisie—the latter fought in the trenches but did not write much about the experience.

And, more importantly perhaps, they acquired the certainty that it was up to them to say how the world should go. From the very start of the war, these intel- 4 Nicolas Mariot lectuals were troubled by the attitude of the people.

Indeed, they were sur- prised by what they considered to be a lack of idealism and will among the other soldiers. Therefore, these men came to clearly reaffirm not only the terms of their own martial commitment, but also what they considered as their role in the education of the people. Had teaching played a role in their pre-war professional lives or not, all of them, even journalists or lawyers, tried to read edifying pages about the war in the trenches or to straighten out those of the soldiers who seemed too unmotivated for them.

The investigation of those testimonies leads to a paradox with regards to the usual perception of the Great War as a melting pot and thus temporary osmosis of social groups. Even in the trenches, these intellectuals were keen to maintain their intellectual identity through writing, reading or thinking in silence. By staying away for the most part from card games, songs, alco- hol, and parties, they maintained a moral and physical gap between them and the boisterous craftsmen and peasant soldiers in whom they perceived a lack of commitment.

Consequently, the conflict no doubt constituted an important point of crystallization of those social boundaries. To follow those two main links, the methodology I used is a common one. It had three steps. First, I made a database of mostly published testi- monies for which I could find three biographical elements for each author: their educational background, their occupation in , and their military trajectory throughout the conflict. In a set of about 2, testimonies ref- erenced in libraries or archives, met these three criteria.

Then, I delim- ited in this total of a corpus of forty-two individuals, a procedure based on the following idea: if I wanted to track their process of social discovery, the testimonies need to have been written up at the time, day by day dur- ing the conflict. The texts were originally private writings that became pub- lic, often several decades later, when they were published.

The texts also had to be written by men from the literate bourgeoisie who lived with ordinary infantrymen because they started the war in the ordinary ranks, i. Finally, I tracked down all references to social interac- tions in the trenches, albeit seemingly insignificant ones, within the war correspondence and diaries of these selected witnesses.

The following dis- cussion provides a few examples of the traces I found in the sources. My goal was to achieve a reading of war diaries and correspon- dences that was not only different, but I hope, more comprehensive from a sociological point of view. That is to say, why not write the same story based equally on the accounts of lower-class soldiers and those of the upper class? A Story of Uneven Sides This was not a question of lack of sources.

Table 1. Since , how- ever, popular writings have above all been published, starting with the famous war diaries of Louis Barthas, a cooper. How- ever, these popular witness statements say nothing about class relation- ships in those trenches.

Why is that? The reason for this great silence over class relationships in popular writings is the mode of recruitment into the French army before the war. On the one hand, craftsmen, manual workers, and farmers performed a military service for two or three years in the mil- itary district of their birth three years between and , two after This service therefore did not cause a change of social background.

They were enlisted with other men of their age and of the same social milieu. They often found friends, neighbors, and sometimes family mem- bers enlisted with them.

Upon mobilization, they always found relatives, brothers or cousins, in any case men of the same social and geographical background, surrounding them. They were a very small elite group, hardly 2 percent of an age group, around 7, boys on an average annual total of , draftees. Militarily speaking, these young men were often exempted or allowed to perform a shorter military service of only one year, often in a battalion to become a reserve officer. For that reason, the intellectuals under study found themselves socially isolated in a foreign environment.

For those with a higher education degree who left as rank-and-file soldiers, the isolation was both an objec- tive reality and a subjective feeling. An objective reality because the likeli- hood they would find someone similar to them in their military milieu was very low. This experience of social isolation explains why many of the intellectuals sought the company of officers to palliate their loneliness. It also explains why they told their families on a daily basis about those strange men of the lower classes they met at the front, thereby becoming the main source of Social Encounters in the French Trenches 7 this study.

Just as when we speak of the unfamiliar when we discover a for- eign country, so too the intellectuals in the trenches wrote about what was unknown to them: soldiers coming from the lower and lower middle classes with all their habits and cultural specificities. A few examples may be given of the social isolation that intellectuals faced when reaching the front.

Killed, hidden in safe jobs, fighting on the front lines, or reformed? In any case over here, they are few and far between. It has already cost me a few extra chores, including sweeping the room three mornings in a row. The first criterion is obviously their common belonging to the upper classes. In short, all of the rank-and-file intellectuals were overqualified for the job ahead.

The other two criteria are connected to the meeting I aim to describe of these two opposite ends of the social spectrum. According to the second criterion, my forty-two actors were chosen because they were not officers. They began the conflict as rank-and-file soldiers or as non-commissioned officers NCOs. This choice was essential so that my witnesses lived, ate, and slept with the other soldiers. Officers, on the other hand, had separate bedrooms and kitchen.

The daily encounters between officers and soldiers were by nature strongly hierarchical. The third and last criterion was for their testimonies to have been recorded in the form of diaries or letters written at the time. When an author 8 Nicolas Mariot produced many kinds of texts, I chose letters or diaries rather than novels, reflections or memories.

Louis Barthas et la postérité par Rémy Cazals

Indeed, it is in his letters, and not in Le Feu, that Barbusse mentioned the gaiters he was wearing, which were very common and not what an offi- cer would necessarily relate.

It is in this selection of tes- timonies that I have chosen my forty-two witnesses.

I tried to cover the whole political and reli- gious spectra. Young students, singles, and married men with children are represented. But, for reasons which I shall return to at length below, the encounters have been depicted only through the eyes of members of the literate elites of French society.

To pursue this matter I followed two major guiding principles. The first principle consisted in describing how—with which preju- dices, through which glasses, toward what ends—the intellectuals of the time, mostly consisting of students, scholars, novelists, artists, doctors or lawyers discovered those men of the lower classes whose existence they had ignored or simply looked down upon until mobilization.

The term may seem inappropriate because it encompasses sometimes different profiles—are doctors and lawyers necessarily intellectuals?

Clearly, it does not refer exclusively to the intellectuals born with the Dreyfus Affair, people who publicly engage in critical thinking against the state, even if some of the war witnesses were activists during the Affair. I use it for lack of a better word to describe the fraction of the elites who wrote the great majority of the available war testimonies.

They were members of the cultural rather than the economic bourgeoisie—the latter fought in the trenches but did not write much about the experience. And, more importantly perhaps, they acquired the certainty that it was up to them to say how the world should go. From the very start of the war, these intel- 4 Nicolas Mariot lectuals were troubled by the attitude of the people.

Indeed, they were sur- prised by what they considered to be a lack of idealism and will among the other soldiers.

Therefore, these men came to clearly reaffirm not only the terms of their own martial commitment, but also what they considered as their role in the education of the people. Had teaching played a role in their pre-war professional lives or not, all of them, even journalists or lawyers, tried to read edifying pages about the war in the trenches or to straighten out those of the soldiers who seemed too unmotivated for them.

The investigation of those testimonies leads to a paradox with regards to the usual perception of the Great War as a melting pot and thus temporary osmosis of social groups. Even in the trenches, these intellectuals were keen to maintain their intellectual identity through writing, reading or thinking in silence.

By staying away for the most part from card games, songs, alco- hol, and parties, they maintained a moral and physical gap between them and the boisterous craftsmen and peasant soldiers in whom they perceived a lack of commitment. Consequently, the conflict no doubt constituted an important point of crystallization of those social boundaries. To follow those two main links, the methodology I used is a common one.

It had three steps. First, I made a database of mostly published testi- monies for which I could find three biographical elements for each author: their educational background, their occupation in , and their military trajectory throughout the conflict. In a set of about 2, testimonies ref- erenced in libraries or archives, met these three criteria. Then, I delim- ited in this total of a corpus of forty-two individuals, a procedure based on the following idea: if I wanted to track their process of social discovery, the testimonies need to have been written up at the time, day by day dur- ing the conflict.

The texts were originally private writings that became pub- lic, often several decades later, when they were published.

The texts also had to be written by men from the literate bourgeoisie who lived with ordinary infantrymen because they started the war in the ordinary ranks, i. Finally, I tracked down all references to social interac- tions in the trenches, albeit seemingly insignificant ones, within the war correspondence and diaries of these selected witnesses.

The following dis- cussion provides a few examples of the traces I found in the sources. My goal was to achieve a reading of war diaries and correspon- dences that was not only different, but I hope, more comprehensive from a sociological point of view. That is to say, why not write the same story based equally on the accounts of lower-class soldiers and those of the upper class?

A Story of Uneven Sides This was not a question of lack of sources. Table 1. Since , how- ever, popular writings have above all been published, starting with the famous war diaries of Louis Barthas, a cooper.

How- ever, these popular witness statements say nothing about class relation- ships in those trenches. Why is that? The reason for this great silence over class relationships in popular writings is the mode of recruitment into the French army before the war.

On the one hand, craftsmen, manual workers, and farmers performed a military service for two or three years in the mil- itary district of their birth three years between and , two after This service therefore did not cause a change of social background. They were enlisted with other men of their age and of the same social milieu.

They often found friends, neighbors, and sometimes family mem- bers enlisted with them. Upon mobilization, they always found relatives, brothers or cousins, in any case men of the same social and geographical background, surrounding them.

They were a very small elite group, hardly 2 percent of an age group, around 7, boys on an average annual total of , draftees.

Militarily speaking, these young men were often exempted or allowed to perform a shorter military service of only one year, often in a battalion to become a reserve officer. For that reason, the intellectuals under study found themselves socially isolated in a foreign environment.

For those with a higher education degree who left as rank-and-file soldiers, the isolation was both an objec- tive reality and a subjective feeling. An objective reality because the likeli- hood they would find someone similar to them in their military milieu was very low. This experience of social isolation explains why many of the intellectuals sought the company of officers to palliate their loneliness.

It also explains why they told their families on a daily basis about those strange men of the lower classes they met at the front, thereby becoming the main source of Social Encounters in the French Trenches 7 this study. Just as when we speak of the unfamiliar when we discover a for- eign country, so too the intellectuals in the trenches wrote about what was unknown to them: soldiers coming from the lower and lower middle classes with all their habits and cultural specificities.

A few examples may be given of the social isolation that intellectuals faced when reaching the front. Killed, hidden in safe jobs, fighting on the front lines, or reformed?

In any case over here, they are few and far between. It has already cost me a few extra chores, including sweeping the room three mornings in a row. The first criterion is obviously their common belonging to the upper classes.

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In short, all of the rank-and-file intellectuals were overqualified for the job ahead. The other two criteria are connected to the meeting I aim to describe of these two opposite ends of the social spectrum. According to the second criterion, my forty-two actors were chosen because they were not officers. They began the conflict as rank-and-file soldiers or as non-commissioned officers NCOs. This choice was essential so that my witnesses lived, ate, and slept with the other soldiers.

Officers, on the other hand, had separate bedrooms and kitchen. The daily encounters between officers and soldiers were by nature strongly hierarchical. The third and last criterion was for their testimonies to have been recorded in the form of diaries or letters written at the time.

When an author 8 Nicolas Mariot produced many kinds of texts, I chose letters or diaries rather than novels, reflections or memories. Indeed, it is in his letters, and not in Le Feu, that Barbusse mentioned the gaiters he was wearing, which were very common and not what an offi- cer would necessarily relate. It is in this selection of tes- timonies that I have chosen my forty-two witnesses. I tried to cover the whole political and reli- gious spectra.

Young students, singles, and married men with children are represented. Their number is not the most important methodological point. The major point is the fact that I tried to exhaust the documentation provided by each of these testimonies, using as much as possible of each text so as to take into account the contextual thickness of each case. The first step of the study introduces the idea of a material history of the hierarchies within the French army.They began lecturing others as to what to think of the war and how to fight it.

The term may seem inappropriate because it encompasses sometimes different profiles—are doctors and lawyers necessarily intellectuals? The articles in this special issue thus prompt us to reconsider what, and who, should be central to our understanding of the experience and impact of the Great War for France.

That is to say, why not write the same story based equally on the accounts of lower-class soldiers and those of the upper class? The French intel- lectuals looked very much like the boys from the British public schools studied by Peter Parker,46 the Italian intellectual soldiers47 or the German students whose spiritual commitment was also celebrated through the publication of their letters.

Robert Hertz wrote to his wife Alice: You see, only the Catholics and Socialists know why they fight. They were members of the cultural rather than the economic bourgeoisie—the latter fought in the trenches but did not write much about the experience.

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