Section Sixty-one

Henry Selden Kingman (1893-1968) was a volunteer from Minnesota in Grant's section of the Norton-Harjes Ambulance. They served together until the unit's dissolution in the fall of 1917. His letters home were published in a book called Section sixty-one: selections from letters of Henry S. Kingman, member S.S.A.U. 61, Norton Harjes Ambulance Corps, May to October, 1917.

Kingman's book is an invaluable primary source for historians of the volunteer American ambulance services in the First World War. It is also useful for filling in details missing from Grant's diary and letters. He described his experience in France in great detail.

(Incidentally, after the war he became a respected banker in the Midwest. As president of the Farmers &; Mechanics Savings Bank in Minneapolis he helped Grant get a position there in 1945.)

Below is a letter Kingman wrote to his parents on June 22, 1917:

Sandricourt, June 22, 1917.

My dear Father and Mother: After a month of beautiful weather we're taking a dose of two days' rain, showers, clouded skies and cold. The camp runs with a slimy oozing mud-but rubber boots and slickers keep one comfortable. Two nights ago a violent thunderstorm raised havoc with the poor lads in the barns and tents, while one tent blew down and all but floated away. But there's little complaint on any side, which is quite remarkable, as three weeks in one place with continued disappointments as to our going wears on one's nerves.

Two sections have been made up since I last wrote. Section Sixty-one includes all the old men here with about a dozen of the newer arrivals-George Reed and Tut Stair also being in the list. Our section commander is to be a Mr. Bullard who's had a year's experience at the front. He gave us a talk Sunday last and appears to be a thoroughly fine fellow. We are to have a French section-it being a section held in reserve by the French government to replace any section which has run out of cars. There are to be twenty new Fiat cars I understand and about five staff cars for transport, officers, etc. The cars are supposed to be at Dijon and to be ready at any time, which is getting to be an old story, of course. Whether we will pick them up at Dijon or be met with them in Paris, no one seems to know.

It's been an interesting week outside of the routine life. The boys have begun contributing to French production-which is a very sane proposition. Harvesting has begun with hay the initial crop, but it will soon be followed by the other grains. About twenty men go from camp each day to nearby farms where they stack and pitch hay from seven A.M. to five P.M. I had my turn at it Monday -but saved a sore back by the fact that an early morning rain made the hay too wet. Result was the six of us spent a very pleasant half holiday. After a round of milk at the farm house, we hunted out a guide to show us thru a chateau that lay close by, not a very large estate but extremely rare in its trees and woods with a stream running close by the chateau itself. The grounds were in very good condition considering no one was living there this summer. The formal flower gardens looked beautiful with their plan and straight edges but upon closer examination the vegetation in them proved to be potatoes and haricots verts, which shows the extent of intensive cultivation. The man opened the chateau for us and showed it from cellar to garret.

Of course, it was not in perfect condition-all the real valuables had been removed -but with an hour or two of preliminaries it could have been made very habitable. These chateaux in exterior are all very similar, large white four-cornered affairs, extremely plain, but here we had opportunity to see the interior furnishings with their beautiful paneled walls, dark oak, hand carved, while tapestried walls in the bedrooms made a similar effect to our own wall-papered ones. But what surprised me was the real hominess of the outfit. I had always imagined them so cold-but no doubt the rugs and furniture softened the various rooms. The blankets were even on some of the beds-the latter beautiful four-posters each set off in a little niche back of the main room-while a small staircase, usually spiral, always led to a small chamber above the room for the valet or femme de chamber.

But we've broken into more than vacant chateau life. Fritz and Libby discovered a treat and included me on their second visit. In the course of their walk one afternoon they came to these chateau grounds-two miles from here- rang a huge bell to see what would happen and were given entrance. They understood the gateman to say that it was an old ladies' home but it developed to be more than that. So yesterday the three of us went. At this chateau lives Madame Dupret and her twenty-year-old son. The latter speaks a little English while his mother speaks understandable French. It was truly delightful there sitting in a French parlor-with all the glory of a habitable chateau-the books and pictures -flowers galore about the room-high white paneled walls. There were two ladies calling upon Madame so our attentions were entirely confined to the young man. But Madame overlooked nothing in the way of serving delicious tea which was made more so by the addition of a flavor of rum. Cakes and cigarettes were also served and they couldn't do enough for us. We talked of the war, French, English, and American customs, and closed the call with a beautiful walk thru their gardens. The boy is home for a month, having been wounded in the side and is now convalescent. He's a second lieutenant in the Alpine Chasseurs--the highest type of infantry service in the French army; his mother a delightful woman and most hospitable. They begged us to come again and the boy walked some distance with us on the way home. I think we shall make several calls if we remain here long. I think it must be a joy for the boy and his mother to have someone for company. The father died several years ago.

Besides this break into French society I attended a wedding a week ago; a young couple invited all those who wanted to come. The farm where we went lies a mile up over the hill and we poured in there fifty strong shortly after supper. After a wait, the couple and bridal party showed up, and here in this French farm-yard we were a merry party. Andrews contributed his accordion for the music, and the boys danced with the three girls in the bridal party, while the bride and groom looked on wreathed in smiles. We took up a hat collection of about forty francs for a wedding present, and the beauty of it was that the groom thought it for the music and wanted to contribute. Then they served a litre of white wine all around and we drank to the “little poilu.” Cakes were produced and everyone had a good time. The groom in his blue uniform made a splendid figure, while the bride was a true French dairy-maid. That concludes the big events of the week barring the best, which is always the arrival of mail; and the gods were good to me with at least a dozen letters most of them from you. More later with much love to you all.

Ever affectionately, HENRY.