NOVEMBER

??????????? It is always when the morning Angelus sounds that Joseph goes down into the kitchen and takes his first steps before starting work on the farm where the animals and the fields are waiting for him on this day of mid-November. They wait for it like every day, those before and those after. His step is heavy, his only leg carries but the ghost of the second weighs more than anything! He reminds him of that ominous day when, scarcely out of the trench, mown down by the grape shot, he felt it, in fact, for the last time .... ?

??????????? Everything else has marked him for life! the hospital, the amputation, the mercy of the nurses, the eyes of others; this task distinguishes him from all, he cannot stand it, he can never bear it. A one-legged peasant, a farmer, a farmer, can we imagine that he is still part of this community of peasants united in love of the land, of what grows there, of what lives there?

??????????????? Joseph goes out on the doorstep to smell the air, to listen to the cattle that is waiting in the barn and to see the poultry run towards him in the hope that some grains will fall ... The farm looks like a citadel, its ancestors the had wanted so. The inhabited domain is almost square. Around the courtyard, square too, the house faces the barn, while the poultry and its outbuildings occupy the left side and the pigs are entitled to a space on the right, near the gate that closes the whole. This portal is the only way to enter these places. It is closed every night, probably as a reminder of the time of the robbers who ransomed the inhabitants, taking advantage of the distance of the nearest farm friend, but more than 5 or 6 kilometers away, which we could not, for this reason, rely on help in case of aggression. It is always his job to open the gate ... While dragging his paw he approaches the heavy door, seizes the key left in the lock, turns it and undertakes to release the access to the domain. It is at this moment that he feels a human presence, close who, with discretion but efficiency, has clung to the huge door and, without a word, brings him his help. In a bad mood, the farmer cannot help but think, "There was nothing left but that one! For a moment he had forgotten it! ???????? ??????????????????????????????

???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? This one is "Fritz" as Joseph calls him to humiliate him, deliberately forgetting his real name. As a prisoner, he had been taken out of the camp where he was languishing in trouble with some of his compatriots who had suffered the same fate. Peasant in Germany, he had been assigned to Joseph's farm to help him in his work. Since he had melted into the family, hard to the task, he worked as if the property belonged to him! it seemed like he was doing everything he could to forget his nationality. But Joseph did not like him, he reminded him of the war and, unconsciously, no doubt, he made him responsible for his disability.

????? Meanwhile, Marie-Jeanne had risen and had prepared the coffee that the men swallowed every morning before starting their work. But today was not a day like the others! Emile, the country guard, announced yesterday in the village, that the Germans had accepted the ceasefire before the armistice and thus the war was over. Knowing the difficulties with which information circulated, Emile, watering with the farmers this good news, had made the tour farms on his mule thanks to which, at dusk, he had to be home without getting lost! ??????

????????? After having drunk their bowl of coffee, the two men, without a word as usual, were going to undertake their respective tasks, when Joseph dragged "Fritz" out of the farm to the vegetable garden, near the pond, a few dozen meters from the gate. It was the domain of Marie-Jeanne who grew her vegetables and maintained a few rare fruit trees. The singularity of this garden was due to the presence of a grove made up of ten different trees by size, age and shape. It was the grove of memories!????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ??????????????? ??????????????? In the family there was a tradition: each happy event was marked by a tree that was planted in the kitchen garden and that reminded all the good moments of their lives. One could thus guess the marriage tree of Joseph's father, that of his birth, then of his marriage to Marie-Jeanne, the birth of their daughter, that of the son, and other happy circumstances that they evoked by laughing at each anniversary. Joseph was taking revenge: they were going to plant the tree of victory that very day and Fritz will do it!

????????????? To plant a tree the date was well chosen: near November 25, St. Catherine's Day where "all trees take root". The shrub was waiting in a huge vase behind the stable: it had to be dug up, carried to the kitchen garden, made the hole and planted: it would be the work “du boche”! Joseph explained to him what he should do and "Fritz" set to work. The ground was hard, the roots already deep, but after a long time the tree could be extracted from its gangue. To carry it, or better to pull it up to the vegetable garden, the difficulties did not fail: to cross the poorly paved court, soiled by the excrement of the poultry, then to cross the gate, to arrive at the kitchen garden and to make a path without damaging the cultures. After choosing the location was to dig the earth enough to rock the shrub into the hole.

????????????? Fritz continued the planting-still without the slightest help from Joseph-tired, no doubt, but eager to get to the end of his work, as best as possible, to please Joseph. With great care he arranged the roots so that they could make the most of their contact with the earth. Then he made sure that the trunk was straight and released the few branches so that the pace takes a regular shape and beautiful. Then he drew back, gave the impression of appreciating the result, turned to Joseph and smiled at him, showing him, with both arms raised, how beautiful the tree was. Finally, and without any order accompanying his actions, he took the largest watering can of the garden that he filled with water at the source near the house. Stumbling under the weight, his clothes wet with the overflowing water, he lifted the watering can emptying the water at the bottom of the trunk while some of the liquid finished wetting hi ??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ?Joseph approached then and looked at the tree not as if it were a simple element of the grove but rather as one looks at a work of art, a kind of vegetable statue. This new testimony of an extraordinary event fit perfectly into the grove of memories. His eyes fixed on it, went from one to the other shrubs while images paraded before him each time he stopped to recognize the symbol worn by the witness on which his gaze had landed . His father, now gone, who had entrusted him with the property during his lifetime so he could have all the freedom to manage his field in a modern way. His daughter, a nun, who had chosen to devote her life to others and who, for that reason, was busy in an African tribe to educate children and care for parents. His son, enlisted recently, recruited as soon as he reached the age of being a soldier, in his turn on the front, source of anxiety now dispelled! ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ??????????????? This last vision made him return to the new inhabitant of the grove, sentinel mute of an inhuman war. Here again the images jostled each other: friendship, solidarity, joy and sadness, all those feelings that accompanied his life as a soldier made of fear, anguish, and misfortunes. Leon, of the North, dead for France, Marius the Proven?al, dead for France, and Gaston of the South-West, gassed, condemned for life to cough, to a permanent, but living, breathlessness.

????????????????????? All these memories hurt him and, despite his efforts not to cry, tears filled his eyes and slowly ran down his cheeks. Fritz approached slowly and put his hand on his shoulder: that's how they looked together at the tree of victory without Joseph being able to say that the German understood the symbol he represented.

??????????????? Joseph turned to him, he shared the same sadness; he then thought, for the first time, that what he had lived, the "others" had also experienced! No doubt Fritz had had friends from Bavaria, dead for Germany, friends of Berlin, dead for Germany, and natives of Hesse, gassed!

?????????????? Joseph had taken his revenge by forcing him to work hard this morning to congratulate himself on the victory of France and thus the defeat of his country. It was finished now! So he turned to him, and calling him by his real name, he said: "Hans, let's go find Marie-Jeanne she'll worry" but it was Hans who had the last word, articulating, with a lot of effort, applying himself, he took Joseph by the arm and mumbled: ??

"Finished, it's over, there will never be more war"

?????????????????????????????????ArmandLATTES?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????Histoire ??presque vraie?? de mon oncle paysan ??????????????????????????????????????????????? En hommage à sa mémoire