Life can be made up of interesting encounters. I experienced this when I went to the House of the Fighter and Patriotic Associations. I set out to gather information and met an elderly man. For those who are disillusioned with school-style history lessons, this is the best remedy. Spending an hour there, and you feel transported to the past as if you were actually there.
At first glance, this man seems to crave tranquility. Yet, he has been through a lot. With his 80 springs, Henri Beraud, now an honorary colonel, has lived through many wars. World War II, two stints in Indochina (1948-1950 and 1954-1956), the Algerian War. He certainly has a lot of war stories to tell!
Even in high school, he distributed clandestine leaflets in support of the resistance. A true patriot, he enlisted in the army on June 6, 1944. That very day, this young recruit headed to the Jura. His motivation was simple: “I enlisted to free my country because I love it.” The trials were just beginning. The first shot. The first step, always difficult. “The hardest part comes before firing. Because you think about it. It’s a bit like an actor. He has stage fright before performing. Once he’s on stage, he is carried away by the momentum, and he plays his role.”
Having survived World War II, “the most terrible in terms of combat,” he explains, Henri Beraud decides to continue in this line of work. The opportunity to return to conflict soon arose: he flew to Indochina in 1948. The war was grueling due to the climate, he says. And then, the emotion is visible in his eyes. He directly witnessed a scene of horror. In the middle of a market, an explosion! Civilians were injured, others killed. He was there. Someone had thrown a grenade into the crowd. His first instinct: observe, look for the perpetrator to pursue him. But it was impossible to find him. The rescue teams came. Bodies were strewn on the ground. Another area, another grenade. This time, it struck children during a canoe race. “The parents had brought their little ones to watch the event. I was on the bridge, above them. The perpetrator must have been a few meters from me. But there were too many people. I didn’t see who it was.”
From seeing such atrocities, the colonel confesses, with dismay, that he had become accustomed to them at the time. The Algerian War did nothing to change this mindset. He watched, powerless, as another bomb attack occurred. “Unfortunately, one gets used to death. For a soldier, it is important to adopt a certain philosophy. During combat, you are in a different state.”
The scar is open. To feel better, he thinks of his father, his advice. “When I was young, my father would tell me about his Christmas in the trenches in 1914. At midnight, the German soldiers attacked. He always warned me to be careful if the same thing happened to me.” At Christmas 1944, Henri Beraud found himself at 2000 meters altitude at the Italian border. In an evacuated chalet, his combat group celebrated the event. Their only meal: a semolina pancake and a 10-liter bottle of wine. There were 12 young men in total, all between 18 and 20 years old. Not one of them was without gloom. Their only consolation: to drink until they threw up. The only one not drunk: Henri Beraud. “I remembered my father’s advice. I made sure to stay sober to be able to defend my team in case of an offensive. Later, a friend was lying on the ground in the snow. If I hadn’t brought him inside, we would have found him dead. I stayed up all night, and no enemy attacked us at midnight.”
Man before soldier, he nonetheless admits to having often been anxious. “Those who say they have never been afraid are lying. The aftermath is the most unbearable psychologically. You recall what happened. It’s awful. It must be known that no soldier wishes for war. It is the worst thing in this world.”
