Translations:CP 02830/31/en
I hope that what I’ve written to you[1] has by now convinced you and that you will stay at Albi. Moreover I hope that if your absurd whims persist your dear Commandant will know how to “command” and you to “obey”. I don’t want to appear to be avoiding your questions about me. Because I know that you are not just asking them out of politeness; no I am not “eating well” at the moment. The frequency of my attacks prevents it. You know that as soon as they lessen, I am capable of climbing back up the slope, remember last year and my own victory of the Marne[2]. I rather regret what I wrote to you about Pozzi. I don’t think he gets on very well with Février, the director of the Service for Health and the Gallieni people. Besides, more than likely none of this will be of any importance because I probably won’t get called up. In any case I have been registered. What gets one out of it is a visible infirmity, like a missing thumb or something. Illnesses such as asthma can’t be discerned. It’s true that for my book I was interviewed in my bed[3]; but do you think that the Military Authorities in Paris know anything about that! Bize is mistaken if he thinks it is a legal exemption.