Round about Bar-le-Duc

In Short

Susanne R. Day’s Round about Bar-le-Duc is a sharp, deeply human memoir of civilian relief work behind the Western Front during the First World War. Stationed primarily in Bar-le-Duc in the Meuse department, Day records the influx of displaced families, the strain on local infrastructure, and the daily survival strategies of women and children uprooted by combat. Rather than focusing on military strategy or romanticized heroism, the narrative documents the gritty, unpolished reality of refugee care, bad sanitation, bureaucratized aid, and brief moments of solidarity. It survives as a vivid, eyewitness document of civilian resilience in wartime France.

The Story

The book opens with Susanne Day volunteering for civilian relief work in France, driven by a desire to help but admittedly naïve about the practical realities ahead. Expecting dramatic adventures, she quickly discovers that the work consists of unglamorous, heavy labor. After passing through London and Sermaize-les-Bains, she settles in Bar-le-Duc, the capital of the Meuse, where thousands of refugees are arriving from ruined villages.

Instead of heroic deeds, Day faces immediate practical problems: poor sanitation, medieval drainage, and overwhelming smells. She plunges into the work of distributing essentials—clothing, blankets, kitchenware, and hygiene supplies—to uprooted families. Through her rounds across the town, particularly in the historic High Town (Ville-Haute), she observes the local customs, the thrift of the residents, and the specialized local industries, from basket-making in Vaux-les-Palamies to the labor-intensive production of unpipped red currant jam.

As the war grindingly continues, the nature of the crisis shifts. Day documents the arrival of repatriées—French civilians returned from occupied territories—who bring chilling accounts of the initial German invasion, forced labor, and the brutal executions of villagers in places like Conflans-Jarny. The strain deepens when the Battle of Verdun sends fresh waves of shell-shocked, destitute refugees pouring into Bar-le-Duc’s market halls. Day and her fellow volunteers work exhausting shifts slicing bread, boiling soup, packing palliasses with straw, and tending to bewildered, sick, and elderly evacuees.

Interspersed with the refugee crisis are observations on French military life. Day runs a canteen for soldiers (poilus) passing through on their way to or from the front lines. She notes the stark lack of recreational amenities and social support for French troops compared to their British counterparts, recording their exhaustion, their moments of quiet camaraderie, and the psychological toll of trench warfare. Air raids become a frequent threat, forcing citizens into cellars and turning frozen streets into hazardous obstacles guarded by makeshift sandbags.

Despite the constant shadow of destruction and grief, the book maintains its focus on human connection. It concludes not with a grand military victory, but with a quiet reflection on endurance, the bonds built between international workers and local families, and the lasting spirit of the people who survived behind the lines.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins Susanne Day volunteers for relief work with high hopes, quickly realizing her total ignorance of the uniform, the heavy physical labor, and the logistical challenges ahead.

Arrival in Bar-le-Duc Stepping into the capital of the Meuse, Day is instantly confronted with four thousand refugees, inadequate sanitation, and the unvarnished realities of distributing basic supplies.

Exploring the High Town Day wanders the steep, narrow streets of the Ville-Haute, taking in its historical architecture, local traditions, and the freezing winter conditions that turn cobbled lanes into lethal ice slides.

Displaced lives and small mercies Visiting refugees in their temporary lodgings, Day witnesses how lost homes and ruined family heirlooms—especially prized handspun linens and feather beds—weigh heavily on the uprooted women.

Stories from the occupied zone Through conversations with newly arrived repatriées, Day records firsthand testimonies of the sudden 1914 invasion, civilian executions, and the harsh realities of living under occupation.

The deluge from Verdun As the Battle of Verdun rages, Bar-le-Duc becomes a primary bottleneck for fleeing civilians, forcing Day to work long hours in crowded market halls serving hot stew and bedding down the traumatized.

Canteen work with the poilus Day shifts her attention to French soldiers en route to the front, providing hot drinks, observing their exhaustion, and noting the distinct lack of institutional comfort provided to French troops.

Air raids and winter hardships Between frequent enemy air raids and bitter frost, the town shuttered its shops, while workers and locals learned to navigate frozen streets and sandbagged basements together.

The People

• Susanne Day: The author and narrator. She enters the war zone expecting exciting adventures, but rapidly adapts into a pragmatic, empathetic, and unpretentious relief worker focused on practical aid.
• Carol: The dedicated recipient of the original intimate letters. She acts as the encouraging force behind the book's creation, urging Day to maintain a focus on human warmth over dry statistics.
• Madame Jacquemot: A thickset, resilient refugee living in the town. She demonstrates the traditional art of osier basket-making and shares her family's stories of displacement.
• Madame Jacquemot’s Mother: An eighty-two-year-old refugee who surviving shingles and physical abuse by an invading soldier. Before dying of heartbreak away from her native village, she weaves a final basket as a gift of gratitude for Day.
• The Abbé: A wise, kindly local priest with a deep knowledge of human nature. He holds fiercely conservative religious views, railing against Freemasonry while worrying over the low morale of soldiers.
• The Poilus: The anonymous French infantrymen passing through the canteen. Exhausted, freezing, and neglected by formal comfort networks, they share tiny acts of generosity with one another over cheap coffee.

In Its Own Voice

"Until I went to Bar I never knew that the air could be solid with smell. One might as well walk up a sewer as up the Rue de l'Horloge on a hot day."

— On the sobering, unhygienic realities of medieval town infrastructure under the strain of wartime overcrowding.

"The old bear transplanting badly, they yearn for their chimney corner and the familiar things that are all their world."

— Observing the quiet, fatal toll that displacement takes on the elderly refugees uprooted from their lifelong villages.

"They are like dream people, moving through a world of shadows. Those who go down into hell do not come back easily to the things of earth."

— Describing the psychological state of French soldiers returning from the front line trenches at Verdun.

What It's Really About

Beneath its observational detail, Round about Bar-le-Duc is an examination of civilian survival under the pressure of total war. Day looks past military maneuvers to ask what happens to a society when its everyday domestic foundations—houses, sanitation, bedding, and community ties—are systematically destroyed.

The book explores the friction and quiet solidarity between local residents and incoming refugees, highlighting how displacement strips people of their dignity long before it strips them of life. It also probes the contrast between British and French approaches to wartime relief and soldier care, critiquing official neglect while celebrating small, spontaneous acts of personal generosity. Ultimately, it argues that true resilience resides not in political rhetoric, but in manual labor, shared humor, and the refusal to let bureaucracy crush basic human sympathy.

Why Read It Today

Round about Bar-le-Duc offers a refreshing, eyewitness perspective on World War I that bypasses the familiar tropes of generals, muddy trench lines, and political speeches. Readers interested in women's history, civilian experiences during wartime, and early modern humanitarian relief will find it a compelling and surprisingly candid narrative.

Day writes with clear-eyed humor, directness, and precision. She avoids romanticizing the war or painting the victims as flawless angels; she acknowledges local greed, prejudice between French and Belgian refugees, and period class distinctions alongside moments of profound courage. The prose carries no modern marketing fluff, relying instead on concrete scenes: unpipping currants for jam, chopping mountains of bread with greasy butcher knives, or falling on frozen snow during night raids.

While readers should anticipate early 20th-century cultural assumptions and occasional untranslated French phrases, Day’s sharp eye for human character makes the book instantly accessible. It stays with you as a poignant, grounded tribute to the ordinary people who kept life moving behind the battle lines.