Have learned our lesson and now loaf and dodge all the work we can.

Thanksgiving Day, 1917, fell on the fifth Thursday of November. For the French, struggling through the fourth bloody autumn of war, it was just another Thursday. But for USAAS men encamped at Sandricourt, the holiday was a reminder of their homes and families far away. Grant recorded his reflections in his journal.

Friday, November 30, 1917:

Still at Sandricourt, but now in the capacity of a 1st class private instead of a “buck” private. The only difference it makes is $3 a month. We still do slaves’ work, but instead of doing it all we have learned our lesson and now loaf and dodge all the work we can. It seems a shame that men who are really serious and desirous of pushing ahead regardless of sacrifice have to

be held down to the lowest level by men who have received their officer's appointment through inside [deals]. ‘Twas ever thus and probably always will be.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving and a holiday. The morning was spent in cleaning up and airing clothes until 10:30 when practically everyone went to the service at the YMCA. We had a layman YMCA worker from the headquarters in Paris speak to us. He gave a good talk followed by a speech from the Doctor. The spirit of the whole thing was fine, but I surely do get tired of hearing the doctor talk. He’s too idealistic to be at all practical and popular.

At noon we ate turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, creamed cauliflower, cabbage salad, pumpkin pie, nuts, figs, dates and drank much red and white wine. It was a very good dinner indeed. There were few in camp who had not felt the warming effect of the wine and the afternoon was noisy indeed with football and baseball.

In the evening we had a pianist and violinist in camp who gave a fine concert in the YMCA. Ed Browning and I sneaked off down to an old deserted house near here where we built a fire, and talked and wrote letters. Brownie left today to train as a “sapper.” Brownie was a fine kid, bunking next to me so that we got very well acquainted.

I took out $10,000 of the new government insurance against death or total disability.

A week before Thanksgiving, Grant wrote his family about life at Sandricourt, going on at length about the Y.M.C.A. in camp. This would have been of great interest to his father, W.D. Willard, who had been involved with the Y.M.C.A. during his college days at the University of Minnesota in the 1880s. W.D. became a founder and ardent supporter of the Mankato branch of the organization.

November 22, 1917

Dear Family:-

At last, after more than one month, I have received some mail – much mail. Mother’s letters inclosing notes from Dad dated Sept. 30, Oct. 8 and Oct. 21 have been received and Dad’s letter enclosing a 300 franc draft dated Sept. 27 is here. You may wager your last penny I was glad to get them. Letters from Dorothy, Lillian and Cousin Elsie, Mrs. Houghton, Alice Farr, Alice Robbins, Tib and others came at the same time. Also a fine box of fudge from Bernice Morrow and a big box containing socks, eats, tobacco and gum from Dot put in their appearance. It surely seemed like Xmas.

I want to answer a few questions now.

Are my clothes warm enough? Yes, such as they are. My big sheep-skin coat has come in most handy. The nights are cold and the days are growing colder. Good serviceable clothing, such as sweaters which can be worn under the uniform, wool socks large enough to go over another pair and come just below the knee, helmets, knitted mitten, wristlets, will all be very welcome to us over here. Those pajamas you sent me were great. Can you send me two more of the union kind?

Do you get our papers? I did get your papers regularly before the service changed. Since then I have received none.

Dad says: “I hope you don’t mean by your letter of Sept. 6 that our boys ought not to get into the fight. Have you any question as to the rightness of our position?” NO, not for a minute. I can find nothing in my diary for that date to give me inkling as to what I may have referred to. There has been considerable criticism of the general attitude on the part of American officers in this country but I am sure it will all pass over as soon as America has actually gotten into things and has taken over an active front. I may have meant that it would have been criminal for America to put her men into the trenches immediately upon arrival on this side without first receiving training at the hands of those nations with fighting experience. Now, however, it is the current opinion over here that the American troops who first arrived have had sufficient training and that the sooner they get into action the better it will be for all concerned. We are fighting for a great principle – democracy – and we can’t go too far toward the complete abolition of autocracy.

Friday – November 23

This story was suddenly interrupted yesterday by the call to retreat – 4:45 P.M. After retreat comes supper. You may wonder how it was that I had yesterday for P.M. off for writing letters. I wonder at it a bit myself. I simply didn’t report for detail but came right over to the Y.M.C.A. to write. Nothing has been said yet and I don’t expect there will be. We are working very hard at most anything which can be found for us to do toward making this camp comfortable for those who follow us. This morning’s work has been interrupted by the arrival of about 150 new men last night. I hope to be able to spend the morning right here in this chair.

A bit of what the Y.M.C.A. is doing right here in this particular camp might be of interest to you. In brief, it’s the “hangout” of the camp. Why do the fellows hangout here? Because it’s warm, due to the wood floor, double canvas wall and two stoves; because there are tables and chairs here on which papers and magazines of comparatively recent date are at our disposal; because there are many books to read, and books are a scarce article as a rule in a camp like this; because there is a Victrola with good records and a piano here; and last, but not least, is the canteen where Swiss chocolate, salted peanuts, crackers, tobacco and cigars may be purchased at minimum cost. This is supposed to be the busy part of the day but there are at least 25 men in here right now – most of them reading – (8:15 A.M.). In addition to furnishing all this to us the Y.M.C.A. furnishes weekly entertainments in which local talent is much in evidence. Occasionally we have regular entertainers from Paris. These are usually followed by a little feed consisting of hot coffee, sandwiches and apples. Once we had real American pies made by one of our American cooks in camp – and they were good. Then we have an occasional “sing” when the fellows gather around the piano and shout old songs at the top of their lungs. Every Sunday the doctor conducts a morning and evening service. These, I’m sorry to say, are not very popular as time goes on. He’s a fine man but not enough “one of them” to be able to get ahold of them. He is a very good French teacher. We have daily classes in French here in this room and the major has made it compulsory for every man to join a class.

Now I must hurry this letter along for I want to finish it before class begins. There is one more thing I want to get off my chest before quitting.

Yesterday I took out $10,000 of the new government insurance. It is, of course, war insurance against death or total disability. My policy is to be taken out in favor of Mother. In case of my death while this war still exists she would get $10,000 plus the interest in monthly installments over a period of 20 years. Ten thousand is the maximum limit. The policy is good for 5 years after the termination of the war during which time it may be transferred into a regular policy on a basis not yet known to us. In case of the death of the beneficiary the insurance is transferable to any member of the family next in line. I pay monthly a premium of $6.50 which is deducted from my pay. Certainly no insurance could be cheaper and I figure that the maximum is the least I can do for those who have owned and run me for so long.

I have said quite enough for this time. Am sending this letter into Paris to be mailed for reasons which I think will be obvious to you.

Much love,

Grant.

c/o Miss E. G. Mullen

Hotel Lotti

Paris

Oh God! when will this turmoil subside?

November days in northern France can be gray and dreary. They are short and often filled with rain. The last gold and bronze autumn leaves cling to the trees and the smell of wood fires wafts from chimneys.

Thursday, November 15, 1917:

American efficiency is still in question. We have been here two weeks and a half now and have done nothing but slave’s work. Everything from picking up wee pieces of paper in the yard to building sidewalks and roads in rain and mud--and such

affectionate mud you never saw. I have taken my turn at everything except K.P. and sanitary detail. The hours of work now, since the early darkness has forced it, are from 7 A.M. to 11:30 and from 1 P.M. to 4:30 after which we stand retreat. The spare moments are few, many of which are taken up by waiting in food line. No lights have been issued and no pay has showed up so unless one is fortunate in having sufficient money to buy candles and matches his evenings are spent in sitting around a fire in idle talk. Some army!

During the interval since I last wrote in this book, a school for sergeants has been opened here at Sandricourt and all of the American Field Service sections who signed over 50% of their men into the new service are permitted to send one man each into this school to return to their sections in two weeks as a full fledged 1st Sergeant. The place seems flooded with these youngsters who strut around all day in fine clothes, attending a few classes during each day and spending the remainder of the time in watching us work and offering suggestions in an official tone of voice. You may be sure they are none too popular with us low privates. On the other hand, few of us envy them their positions in any way, but a financial way. They draw about twice as much pay as we do, but their work in a section is purely clerical.

I am broke flat. I arrived here two weeks and a half ago with 15 centimes in my pocket. I sit here now with the same 15 centimes in my pocket. No one knows why the pay master does not show up and no one knows why my money doesn’t come from the States.

There are some redeeming features about this life, however. We are all getting in fine physical condition. Our mental improvement is questionable, but I think the YMCA will do their share in this respect as well as on the spiritual side. Our G.M. is selling cigarettes, gum, canned jams, matches, pipe tobacco, some canned fruits, catsup etc. all of which we buy at cost price and cheaper than they pay in the States even. The camp food is improving every day in the hands of regular U.S. Army cooks and we have no kick on that score.

Yesterday I received: 3 letters from Dot, two from mother, 1 from Mrs. Houghton, 1 from Lillian Hutchinson, 1 from Tib, 1 from Bill Sistare and one from Alice Robbins. I sneaked off from my detail, which consisted of greasing and starting Fords, and read the letters. It was by far the best day I have put in out here at Sandricourt. I have done nothing but smile at the world ever since. There must be more mail for me somewhere. I ought to have several packages. Oh yes! I got one beautiful box of candy from Bernice Morrow yesterday which I took with me on guard last night and fed to my fellow sufferers. It was wonderfully nice fudge and so fresh. I was somewhat surprised to receive this from her.

Dot’s letters affected me in the same way as usual. They made me hate myself for ever leaving her and recreated that deepest of all deep longings to be back and away from this thing. She had just received my letter telling of the new order of things and asking her what she would have me do, enlist or return and run my chance of being drafted and sent back here again. The dear child said to stay until I could return to her

for good and for all. Yes, I shed tears, of course! How could I help it? Oh God! when will this turmoil subside? Of course, our case is only one in a million, but it always seems worse and harder to bear when you are part of it. Is our suffering keener than that of other people? Is it only suffering in payment for past sins or is it God’s plan for the eventual betterment of the whole? If the latter be the case, what is my duty when the thing has ended? Well, as far as I’m personally concerned I have become enough of a fatalist to believe that if we go plodding on in the present, meeting each new situation as the combination of our best judgment and conscience dictates, whatever guiding power there is in this life will make clear our future duty if we judge it in the same way. If God is conducting this war for the benefit of the world He will save those whom He wants to help Him. If I am not among those spared then I must take the blame onto my own shoulders. I have acted as far from the dictations of my best judgment and conscience. I have tried to do my duty as I saw it. I did not re-enlist because I wanted to by any means, but because I felt it my duty to do so.

The pajamas finally came about two weeks ago and were much appreciated.

One hundred years ago--November 7, 1917--the October Revolution began in the streets of Petrograd (St. Petersburg), Russia. Two days later Grant wrote this letter to the folks in Mankato. Most likely he was blissfully ignorant of that world-changing event until weeks later. 
Due to the fact that he was now a buck private in the U.S. Army living under military rules, he was restricted in what he could tell his family about his situation.

Nov. 9, 1917
Dear Family:-

Am well, safe and as happy as circumstances will allow. This is as much as I can tell you about myself now except that as I write I am listening to “America, I love you”* as rendered by a very nice Victrola here in the Y.M.C.A. The work is hard but I guess it is doing us all a great deal of good.
Owing to the changes in our service I haven’t received a single piece of mail for a month tomorrow. It seems like a year and I have no idea how long it will be before mail does begin coming through. I hope you received all the letters I wrote while on permission. It was a glorious five days and did us all much good.
The whole situation with me has worked out just about as I had figured it – not entirely satisfactory but it is coming, I think.

I’m sorry I can say no more – I have much that I would like to say but I guess it can keep.
I’m at a loss to know how to tell you how to direct your future mail. I still think the wisest plan is to send it in care of Miss E. G. Mullen, Hotel Lotti, Paris, and then I will notify her how to readdress it as soon as things have straightened up a bit.

I hope you are corresponding with Dot regularly because I am all bawled up on my correspondence and I may have told her some news that you might be glad to hear or vice versa.

Please don’t get discouraged in sending mail and warm clothing to the latest address you have because I think they will come through eventually if it ever gets on this side. The pajamas finally came about two weeks ago and were much appreciated — more so than if they had arrived earlier. Thank you much for them.
 
And now I must quit because I’m allowed to say no more. I’m almost frantic for mail from you. Happy Ahlers is with me. Keep in touch with Mrs. Ahlers and Harriet. Johnny Taylor is still with us.

Hope you are all well and happy. Did Mrs. Patterson ever receive a letter from me?

Much love,

Grant.

*AMERICA, I LOVE YOU
(Edgar Leslie / Archie Gottler, 1915)

A mid fields of clover,
'Twas just a little over a hundred years ago
A handful of strangers,
they faced many dangers to make their country grow
It's now quite a nation of wond'rous population,
And free from every king,
It's your land, it's my land,
A great do or die land,
And that's why I sing.

From all sorts of places,
They welcomed all the races to settle on their shore,
They didn't care which one,
The poor or the rich one
They still had room for more
To give them protection
By popular election,
A set of laws they chose,
They're your laws and my laws,
For your cause and my cause
That's why this country rose.

America, I love you,
You're like a sweetheart of mine,
From ocean to ocean,
For you my devotion, is touching each bound'ry line,
Just like a little baby
Climbing it's mother's knee,
America, I love you,
And there's a hundred million others like me.

It is hard to be herded in with a lot of raw material, ranked as a low private

Stuck in camp at Sandricourt, Grant continued to be frustrated by his initiation into army life...

Sunday, November 4, 1917:

No details for me today. Laid around and read this A.M. up to 10 o’clock when I went over to YMCA for the morning service. It is the first religious service I have been to since May 13 when I went to church with Dot in Ambler. I must confess that I felt out-of-place and nervous, but I’m very glad I went. The Doctor gave us a very nice short talk with the text “Know ye not that I must learn my Father’s business” as a foundation. He applied it to this camp by saying in brief that what sacrifices and hardships we are undergoing here are merely training us for the hardships and sacrifices yet to come. It is our duty as educated, well-bred men to take hold like men and do our work willingly in order to get as much out of it as possible and come out stronger and bigger men than we were before we got into this thing.

There has been a good deal of dissatisfaction among the boys here at Sandricourt. The details have been long and hard and accommodations have not been of the best. We are paving the way for a permanent base here and much has to be done for the large numbers of ambulance drivers who are expected soon.

As for myself and those who have experienced front work, especially those of us who were formally attached to the Norton-Harjes Corps, can’t help feeling that we have been stepped on. After being treated as 2nd Lieut. for six months and having gone through six months of active service it is hard to come back and be herded in with a lot of raw material, ranked as a low private, with officers over us who have never seen the front. Is it right or not? Maybe our time is coming, but this intermediary step is not helping our opinion of the American army in France very much.