The news from the front these days is so encouraging it makes one hold his breath for fear the tide will turn.

While convalescing in Paris, Grant wrote to his only sister, Marion Willard (1891-1978). As many of the readers of this blog know, Marion's college days were fictionalized by her friend, Maud Hart Lovelace, in a book called Carney's House Party (1949). Marion was the inspiration for the title character, Carney Sibley, and Grant that of her brother, Hunter. And in this letter, Grant mentions his two brothers who were also characters in the book: Harold "Tib" Willard (Gerald Sibley) and John "Johnnie" Willard (Bobbie Sibley).

Sunday – September 30, 1918

Dear Sis:-

Willard Home at 609 S. Broad St in Mankato

Yours of Aug. 18 reached me here after having been forwarded from the section. You see I am in this convalescent home spending a most luxurious vacation in and out of bed. My jaundice is mending and it is whispered about that I may fully recover most any minute. Just at present I am feeling very pert-like.  I can look the world square in the face and just shout for pure joy. Why all this exuberance? Well, I’ll tell you. I was put on regular diet the other day and such meals as they serve at this place I’ve never tasted since pulling out from 609 So. Broad St. And today we had chicken with a capital “C”. Then to finish up they made use eat some chocolate ice cream. Wow! But this place is a rotten place to come to to recuperate. It makes a fellow feel worse for fear the doctor will proclaim him well enough to return to his section. And such nice and agreeable people too. They bring you books and things--always working to make one comfortable. It’s a shame there are such things as Germans to bring this life for us fellows to a close. Expect to go back to work in a few days.

Yesterday was my first day out of here and I thought wise to go to the dentist and have my teeth looked at. Thought there was trouble with a crown which I carry in my mouth. After X-raying the roots the doctor concluded the trouble was in a molar which had to come out. So he killed my jaw, tongue and throat and then after breaking my jaw two or three times he crawled out of my mouth dragging the tooth behind him. You see, I think the tooth had started down in my liver somewhere. Anyway, I thought he had made a mistake and was pulling my liver instead of my tooth. But he was right and I was wrong and today I have full use of my jaw and liver.

The news from the front these days is so encouraging it makes one hold his breath for fear the tide will turn. Guess I’ll begin to pack my duds for home. Home! What a blessed word!  Home and Mother! And Dot! Yes, and you too, Sis, even though you do belong to another man now. And poor Tib! Gee, I do feel sorry for him, Sis. I can guess how he must feel about not coming over. But he’s doing the best thing he can do. And Johnnie! How’s the little rascal anyway? I suppose he’ll be able to knock his big brother out for the count when I get back.

Dorothy "Dot" Houghton

If Dot hadn’t been a “dear kid”, Sis, I might have been a product of one of those officer training camps in the States. And worse yet I might have been detained on that side and never gotten over here. So you see we have a great many things to thank the “dear kid” for. She has been perfectly wonderful to me over here with her letters, packages and books. The staff of life! And with all her plans for the future she makes my head swim with the pure joy of thinking of what is in store for me après la guerre. But with all you are doing to push this war along I don’t think you need feel lazy at what Dot is doing. You are all doing more than your bit and that is just what’s making the allies push this things successfully. Don’t you forget that!

Have kept my eyes open constantly for familiar faces here in Paris but haven’t yet met a soul I knew before I came over. Am going in town this P.M. for the sole purpose to looking around some more.

Just heard from your Bill from Marseilles.  He seems to be happier than while at Tours though I expect he would like to be up front again. He’s traveling in style these days.  Probably in line for a promotion or something.

Now I must quit before writer’s cramp sets in.

Love to all,

Grant.

Grant gets all coked up... at the dentist.

"The Association of the American Hospital of Paris was created in 1906 by several members of the American community in Paris. Their wish was to create a Paris-based hospital which would provide American expatriates residing in France with American-trained medical care in their own language, regardless of their financial means.

"January 30, 1913, the United States Congress officially recognizes the American Hospital of Paris, granting it federal status.

"In March 1918, in recognition of services rendered to France during the First World War, the French government decrees the Hospital American of Paris to be 'an institution of public benefit,' authorizing it to receive donations and bequests." --www.american-hospital.org



Saturday, September 28, 1918:

American Hospital in Neuilly-sur-Seine

Went to Neuilly[-sur-Seine] this A.M. to get my teeth looked at. Thought I was having trouble with my gold crown. After an x-ray I was told that nothing ailed the tooth with the gold crown, but that I ought to have a molar pulled. I wasn’t feeling very strong, but I didn’t dare say no. Dentists are rare birds at the front and one oughtn’t pass up a good one. So I said “go ahead.” In the next half hour I experienced many new sensations. He cocained my lower, left jaw which, incidentally, included my tongue and throat, so that after 15 minutes I couldn’t talk so as to be understood. Then he climbed up on my chest and went to it with a pair of tongs and a cork screw. Well, he didn’t hurt my tooth any because my jaw in that district was dead, but I thought the weight of his body would snap the jaw hinges. After heaving, prying, picking, pushing and pulling for about 15 minutes (it seemed 15 hours) he produced the tooth clamped firmly in a pair of pliers. And what a monster that tooth was! Then he turned me loose and I came back to the chalet after being advised by the doctor to take aspirin and go to bed. At dinner my tongue and jaw were still dead and eating was difficult. I found out later that I had chewed my cheek in several places.

This afternoon, instead of taking the doctor’s advice, I went into Paris to look up my trunk and do a bit of shopping. Found my trunk in good condition and took my sheepskin coat back to the chalet. By four o’clock I was feeling rotten and ate very little supper. My jaw was very sore. Went bed immediately after dinner with a good dose of aspirin.

Sunday, September 29:

Cloudy and cold. Feeling about the same. Can hardly open my mouth my jaw is so sore. My throat also is sore. But the news from the front takes all hard feeling right out of a man. Cambrai & St. Quentin are both about to fall. Bulgaria is practically out of it and Allenby’s forces in the Orient have put the Turks to rout. Wonder where our section is.

Spent a quiet day here writing letters and reading in our reading room.

I don’t want you to get the impression that I am a physical wreck...

As Grant recovers from jaundice, he writes home to mother from his Paris hospital.

Thursday – Sept. 26, 1918

Dear Mother:-

I don’t want you to get the impression that I am a physical wreck and will never be good again for anything but a bed warmer.  I have a few good punches in me yet (though I am again in a hospital--or rather, a home for convalescents--it’s merely the jaundice this time and I am about cured of the miserable stuff.  Have been in Paris just a week and this is my first day out of bed and my second on regular diet.)

This place is the home of the old American Field Service in France, as you will observe from the letter heading.  A beautiful spot in a beautiful section of Paris.  (We carry on our convalescing in a little Swiss chalet located in the gardens behind the main pension.  We number about twelve in all, all ambulance men from various sections, with as many different ailments.  The place is now run for this express purpose--taking care of convalescing ambulance men after they are well enough to leave the hospital, making it as homey and as comfortable as possible.  The idea of the thing is splendid for us and the supervision is of the best.)

Chalet in the garden of 21 rue Raynouard.

This long delay between letters has undoubtedly caused you all some worry, especially when you knew we were up in the thick of it.  Everything is O.K. with us, however, and the general outlook is most encouraging.  As much as we have been longing to be returned to the French, where we feel we belong.

One can’t help admiring the way our plucky little boys tore off that Boche salient.  Miserable weather with roads in bad condition but not once did they falter.  As fas as I can see the papers are right in saying that it was a complete victory for the Americans.  And 15,000 prisoners means something.

In following up these advances the ambulance work is often the most interesting.  One has a chance to see and observe so much more of the general situation.  And when one runs into a freshly captured village there is usually a minute or two between loads in which to pick up a souvenir or two which no one else had had time to fool with.  For instance, in one town I got ahold of a bill advertising a special film to be shown to the German soldiers that night in the very building we were using for a dressing station.  I’m not much on this souvenir stuff but this rather appealed to me as worth keeping.  Fritzie must have pulled out in somewhat of a rush for he left many things of interest and value behind.  Uniforms, gasmasks (a room full of new unused masks), leather hip-boots, documents (official and otherwise), helmets, rifles and revolvers.  For live stock we have the Crown Prince’s goat and 31 rabbits.  The goat we called “Crown Prince” until the unfortunate (or fortunate?) discovery was made that we had the sex wrong.  No one seemed to know for sure what the Princess’ name is so we took a chance on Cecelia and let it go at that.  She looks quite snappy after a good bath, dressed in her made-to-order blanket with the section insignia on either side.

I expect to be rejoining the section soon.  The Captain thinks I will be well enough to go see the dentist tomorrow, with whom I rather think I shall have quite a tussle.  The roots under my gold crown have gone wrong and I was told sometime ago that it was no easy job to fix.

Haven’t had a chance to see Paris yet but just the thought of being in Miss Mullen’s city again is cheering in spite of the fact that she is no longer here to add her charm.

With a great deal of love,

Grant.

Pains in my liver are pretty severe and am very yellow.

Monday, September 23, 1918:

Not much change today. Some of the boys have been discharged so I have moved downstairs with the rest of them. Pains in my liver are pretty severe and am very yellow. No appetite. Capt. Whitney is very nice. He comes in every morn. about 11 o’clock and looks us all over.

Tuesday, September 24:

Still on milk diet. Stick close to my bed. Haven’t much difficulty in sleeping. Praised be! Not quite as yellow today.

Am yellow like a sunrise today.

Due to his jaundiced condition, Grant returned to the French capital for the first time in seven months. But I'm certain it was a different place for him this time. His friend, Emma Mullen, whose lively company he always enjoyed while in Paris, had been killed in a bombardment the previous March. And rather than being there to take in the sights, he was there for bed rest.  

Saturday, September 21, 1918:

Toul

Am yellow like a sunrise today. Johnnie’s fever still flaming so he was taken to Toul this P.M. much against the poor kid’s wish and I am booked for tonight’s train for Paris.


Sunday, September 22:

Our lieut. took me to Nancy tonight in his car and put me in a berth which he had reserved in his own name. My first berth in France and I passed as comfortable a night as was possible under the circumstances. 

47 rue Ponthieu in 2010

Arrived in Paris about 9:30 this morning. Caught a taxi for 47 rue Ponthieu--Am. Army H.Q. with the French Army--where Capt. Whitney inspected me and sent me to 21 rue Raynouard to be looked after by Mrs. McDonald. I was put to bed in a little Swiss Chalet which is being used for a hospital until the larger quarters are made ready for the winter. Am very comfortable. A young chap by the name of Fooch from Indiana looks after us. There are seven or eight of us here together--all ambulance men convalescing from various and numerous diseases.

Get my hot milk and toast regularly three times a day.

Jaundice!

John Henry "Johnnie" Taylor sailed to France on the same ship as Grant Willard in May 1917, and they served together in the same outfits throughout the war. Born in Manhattan in 1899, Taylor, at the age of 17, was by far the youngest member of Norton-Harjes Section 61. Grant took an immediate liking to him and, wanting to be a positive older role model for him, arranged it so Taylor would be his aid on his ambulance.

Taylor died in July 1994 in Connecticut at the age of 94.

Summer 1917: "Hap" Ahlers, at left, Grant Willard, 2nd on left,
two unidentified men and John H. Taylor on right.

Friday, September 20, 1918:

Not feeling much better today. Johnnie [Taylor] has a fever and is feeling rotten generally so he and I went to bed! A doctor came over to look at us from the hospital. He pronounced Johnnie’s ailment as the grip and mine as the jaundice. He arranged with our lieutenant for me to go to Paris and convalesce under Capt. Whitney. Johnnie could go with me if his fever went down by tomorrow.

Not feeling very well these days. Am losing pep and have no appetite.

The first major battle fought by the U.S. Army during the First World War was over. Despite days of driving wind and rain that turned the roads into a muddy mess, the Americans reached most of their objectives within 36 hours. In the process, they killed 2,000 and wounded 5,500 German soldiers; and took 13,000 others prisoner. The Americans suffered 7,000 causalities.

With the success of the St. Mihiel Offensive, the U.S. Army was withdrawn by Marshal Foch and repositioned to the northwest in order to play a decisive role in the Meuse-Argonne Offensive later that September.

As for Grant Willard, he and SSU 647 would be repositioned, as well, but a strange malady was overtaking Grant.

Wednesday, September 18, 1918:

Another advance last night. Pagny[-sur-Moselle] is now definitely in our hands. The boys did the job with comparatively little loss after a heavy barrage of an hour and a half. Since we have been up here (Aug. 16) we have only carried 900 patients out of the 82nd division. This is very light work when their task and accomplishment is taken into consideration--but of course the killed do not appear on our records.

Some of the 82nd is being relieved tonight and the rest will come out tomorrow night being replaced by French troops. The old 69th is in and we have seen some of the boys who knew us both of the French and the Americans in old S.S.U. 1. They are down from Soissons where they have taken life easy so they say.

There’s a great difference of opinion among the boys. Some think we will go to Verdun for the big American fall push on Metz. Some are betting on the Reims sector. Others favor going back near Paris for a rest. I personally don’t favor a rest for and troops still able to walk on two legs when the thing is so nearly finished. Let’s get it over with next spring! We are tired, but if the infantry can stand another push we certainly can.

Wonderful night for bombers.


Thursday, September 19, 1918:

Expect to leave Millery in another two or three days. Nothing more definite as to where we will go. McEnnis, Luykx, Stender, Titchner, Chapman and self went to Toul this A.M. to return our piano which, unfortunately, we haven’t had time to use enough to make it worth while. Returned by way of Nancy. Many troops and much ammunition on the roads. We were paid today at last.

Not feeling very well these days. Am losing pep and have no appetite. Gosh, how I wish we could all get out and go back for a good rest.

The Crown Prince was really the Crown Princess

Cecilie of Mecklenburg-Schwerin (Cecilie Auguste Marie; 20 September 1886 – 6 May 1954) was a Crown Princess of Germany and Prussia as the wife of German Crown Prince William, the son of German Emperor William II.

Tuesday, September 17, 1918:

Great mistake made! Our goat is not a he. It’s a she. This dire fact forced us to change her name to Cecilia which was done with full and proper ceremony.
Everything now quiet up front. Another advance was made by us last night and Villers-sous-Prény is now in our hands. No extra cars were called out and the Boche avions only got us up once. The hospital at Dieulouard was hit by shell fire last night–3  killed and 17 wounded.

Relief was made this A.M. and those cars coming back from Norroy[-lès-Pont-à-Mousson] were loaded with souvenirs--41 rabbits, Boche helmets, Boche gas-masks, Boche mess kits, Boche field-glasses and revolvers, Andie appeared in a complete Boche officer’s uniform with leather hip boots all of which fit him like made to order. Postcards, clocks and a hundred different trinkets are floating around camp now. The gas-masks are interesting--apparently their latest issue, for they were stored in a room still wrapped up in paper. There’s not a piece of rubber on the mask. The French and ours is practically all rubber. The Boche mask is leather--a high grade of very soft leather of two thicknesses on the face. The head bands instead of being rubber are cloth with springs enclosed to make them elastic. The eye pieces are reinforced, or rather protected, by small metal bars--against crushing or pulling a finger through. Very neat, practical and well put up. 

The hospital was overrun with wounded who went over without a barrage in broad daylight.

Dieulouard, situated on the left bank of the Moselle River, has an ancient and interesting history. According to legend, the original settlement (Scarpone) was founded by a colony of Trojan fugitives. Scarpone became an important Gallo-Roman and Medieval town, with an imposing castle and the usual feudal and religious strife. The town was sacked by Huns in the 400s, Vikings in the 800s and Hungarians in the 900s!

Railroad bridge at Flirey blown up by retreating French in 1914 to slow German advance.
The Americans recovered this position during the St. Mihiel Offensive. 

Monday, September 16, 1918:

Crown Prince, the goat

Took my old [ambulance] #11 and went to Dieulouard last night at 10:30 with LaFleur, Signor and Bullock, with Stender as my aide, to do evacuating. Good night for driving except they were shelling the devil out of the town. The hospital was untouched. It was overrun with wounded mostly from the 328th reg. of the 82nd who went over without a barrage yesterday afternoon in broad daylight. We evacuated to Millery hospital.

My second load down I was sent on in to the 163rd at Nancy which trip took me until day light. An advance was made by us north of Norroy and west of the river in an attempt to rush Pagny, but it was futile and the line has now returned to a bit north of Norroy. On the east bank German territory overlaps that on the west by about 6 km. What will be the next move, I wonder? The remaining cars in camp were called to Norroy at 2 A.M. today to evacuate gas patients. The town was full of it. They brought back a goat which the Boche had left behind in their rush. We call him “Crown Prince.” Jack Kendrick brought back a basket of rabbits and many of the boys have Boche helmets and other souvenirs.

Fine night for avions.

Official report of this sector -- 13,300 prisoners; Americans still advancing.

As the St. Mihiel Offensive entered its third day, Grant Willard was kept busy repairing damaged Ford ambulances because his comrades kept colliding with other vehicles and getting blown off the road by artillery fire.

You can feel his excitement in his diary at the news of mounting American victories. 

Saturday, September 14, 1918:

The 325th tried to go over at midnight last night. The result was that we were all called out this A.M. at 3 o’clock to carry back what remained of the 325th. They surely did get shot up. Incidentally Risley, Andie and I went out and pulled in three cars this A.M. Byerly hit a motorcycle and broke a wishbone [on his Ford]. Eric hit a Cadillac staff car, just out of Pont-à-Mousson, head-on and folded his car up like an accordion. Devereux Dunlap was blown off the road by a shell bursting near, but not a soul was hit. A queer thing! Dev. was going toward Dieulouard with a load of patients and Kirkpatrick was returning empty. The night was inky black and raining. The shell exploded squarely in the middle of the road perhaps 50 feet from Dev. and 75 from Kirk. Dev was blown off the road to his right, bending a wishbone, whereas Kirk managed to stick to the road, but ran square into the hole the blooming shell had made. He came out undamaged after getting four fellows to help him push.

The extra cars stayed on duty the remainder of the day. If we hadn’t had so much work to do in the shop it would have been mighty dull back here with everybody gone.

View from the top of Montsec

Nothing more of excitement happened so the extra cars came off post this evening. We now have our usual 9 cars on duty.
Official report of this sector -- 13,300 prisoners; Americans still advancing. Last night’s l’Est [républicain] had a glowing account of the big celebration at the taking of St. Mihiel and the reunion of the French citizens who had been under Boche reign for four years in that territory. Boche are retreating north of Pont-à-Mousson in order to keep their line straight. McGuire and Kendrick went to Seicheprey this P.M. with Lt. Smith. Seicheprey is now a town in the rear. Old “dead man’s curve” and the road to [P.C.] Condy are lined with pup-tents. Mt. Sec is pounded to dust and is now a nest of our batteries rather that Boche. Mac said that from Mt. Sec the road down into Seicheprey is in perfect view with the naked eye. “They could have picked us off with rifles.” A good road is now being built across our old no man’s land.

The harvest moon is now in the making. Tonight is clear and I expect we shall have visitors.

The attack is progressing as well as could be expected in such weather (rainy and cold)

The St. Mihiel Offensive began on September 12, 1918, and lasted three days. Five hundred and fifty thousand men of the American Expeditionary Force and forty-eight thousand French soldiers under the command of General John J. Pershing attacked the German Fifth Army across a broad front. The object was to destroy the St. Mihiel Salient and capture the city of Metz. The salient had stuck out "like a dagger pointed at the heart of France" ever since the early days of the war. 

The campaign was a success, though it fell short of Metz. The Allies caught the Germans in retreat and overran their complex system of trenches. The audacity of the American soldiers and commanders impressed the British and French. It was a precursor to the Meuse-Argonne Offensive that would begin later in September.

Thursday, September 12, 1918:

A heavy barrage started this A.M. at 1:10 and continued on through the morning. All but four of our cars are up on duty though very little has taken place in our vicinity as yet. The big guns in this sector are pounding away over Metz direction.

11:30 A.M. - Took Major Sparr up to Dieulouard this morning. The din to our left is terrific with the [Gross] berthes over here helping them out. Official report--Boche artillery preceded ours this A.M. ‘Twas their barrage we heard at 1:10. Ours started later by 2 hours and has continued through the morning. The boys went over with the aide of cavalry this A.M. at 6:30 and have advanced 1 kilometer in the face of heavy artillery fire. Our barrage cleared the way for them.

View of the Butte de Montsec across the Woëvre Plain. 

2:30 P.M. - Mt. Sec and two villages beyond are officially taken by American troops, but there is some fear of our having to evacuate because not a Boche has been seen. They are afraid of a trick and a flank movement on the part of Fritz. Artillery, fire has subsided somewhat. Our sector still about normal.

Horn, Kendrick and I went up to Loisy looking for new quarters for our section. The Lieut. wants to be nearer the action and away from Major Sparr, who pesters us considerably. We found no quarters which suited us. We are very comfortable here now. After dropping Kendrick, Horn and I went looting at the Maidière chateau. Our aim was to get some vegetables for the section. We came back with 19 heads of cabbage, some potatoes and a bacon pan. Vegetables are hard to get now through any source but the illegal one. Everybody while on post helps himself to as many perishables as he can lay his hands on.

5:30 P.M. - Lt. Townsend is here and says he has just come from Ménil-la-Tour. Says the attack is progressing as well as could be expected in such weather (rainy and cold). Also says he saw 3000 prisoners in Ménil-la-Tour stockades. Casualties in the 42nd Am. division operating north of St. Mihiel and south of Verdun have been rather heavy -- in the neighborhood of 3000 he heard. The idea seems to be to cut off the St. Mihiel salient by flanking it if possible. The Amex. Forces hold the lines from Verdun to Pont-à-Mousson being supported by French troops with Italians in reserve.

St. Mihiel American Cemetery and Memorial

9:30 P.M.-- no new developments. Artillery fire still continuing. Our sector is a little busier than normal. Sky clear tonight with cold west wind.

Dot doesn’t like Mankato

September 11, 1918, was a fateful day for Grant Willard, whether he realized it or not. Of course, it was the eve of the Battle of Saint-Mihiel, the first big test of the American Expeditionary Force in the First World War, and his unit would soon be embroiled in it. But it was also the day that he received a letter from his fiancee, Dorothy Houghton, in which she proclaimed her general unhappiness with life and her displeasure at the idea of settling down in sleepy, Midwestern, Mankato, Minnesota. She wanted him to live in her native East. Here, in this one letter, lay one of the bones of unhappiness that would run through their marriage. 


Wednesday, September 11, 1918:

Went to Belleville again this A.M. for gasoline in the truck. Got 1000 litres. Such a town to do business in! The traffic is frightful and these Americans surely do drive like the wind. Didn’t even get called down by any officer today. Something must be wrong “in Denmark.” Smashed my left hand between two 500 litres barrels and am loosing a finger nail as a result. Sore as the devil! Worked on Eric’s car this P.M. Changed his bands for him!

Mail today--two from Dot (Aug. 4 and Aug. 12); one from Mother (Aug. 12) and one from Kenneth Johnson from France. Poor Dot! She is so unhappy and God knows I would give my neck to make her happy. But what can I do? I’m helpless! And now Dot wants me to start in business in the east rather than returning to Minneapolis after the war. She doesn’t like Mankato nor the thought of my going into business on my Dad’s name. She prefers Mpls. to Mankato. But “we’ll see when the time comes”, as Mother used to say. I’ll bet I don’t settle down in the east and I’ll bet Dottie settles with me.

Tonight after supper the Lieutenant called us together and told us that something was about to break. “Don’t be disappointed if you don’t get into right away. Your turn will come.” “Stick together and work as you always have worked and we will have no trouble whatever.” This is about all he said. Later Kendrick told a few of us a bit more. The attack is set for tomorrow after a 12 hour barrage, starting tomorrow morning between 12 and 3. The apex is to be Seicheprey through Montsec directly for Metz with proportionate advances on the wings. We are the right wing (Pont-à-Mousson) and Verdun is the left. The intelligence bureau reports Boche masses off. Pont-à-Mousson and Verdun which would indicate (if true) that should our advance on Metz be successful through Montsec that they propose to attack our flanks in a rush for Verdun and Nancy. This may have been what the Lieutenant meant by being patient.

Spent a miserable night with fleas. Can’t get rid of the pests.

A vital feature of the Model T Ford's planetary gear transmission was the woven cotton bands necessary for motion and braking. (The Model T used a braking gear; there were no wheel brakes as in modern cars.) The bands were lubricated with oil, and, depending on how much braking and shifting was done, would wear out and break and need to be replaced. Grant spent a good deal of time "replacing bands."

Click here for a full explanation of the complicated Model T transmission.

Saturday, September 7, 1918:

Still operations for an advance in the sector continue. I guess there’s going to be something doing before long alright, but I’ll win my first bet anyway.

Spent the day in the shop working on camionette, Putnam’s car and Bashore’s. The boys are burning out an awful lot of clutch bands on these hills around here. Wish we were driving gear shift cars. This evening Bert and I played three rubbers with Tischner and Astlett and we lost by 400 odd points. Spent a miserable night with fleas. Can’t get rid of the pests.

Sunday, September 8:

Severe thunder shower last night. This is the first real hard thunder storm I have ever seen in France. They are very rare in this country. Spent A.M. in shop on Bashore’s car. This P.M. we played 325 Ambulance Co. a game of baseball and won 18-8. Good game up to 5th inning when we both went up in the air and the scoring began. If we could beat them with the scrub bunch that we had what couldn’t we have done to them with Swain, Signor, Dunlap and Astlett!

Lt. Smith came back yesterday. He and Jack Kendrick are going to work splendidly together. Jack is wild about him.

Advance operations still in progress. 1st American army corps reported to be in this sector. Weather rainy and windy. English advance still in full swing. Splendid!

Monday, September 9:

Nothing unusual. Went to Belleville this A.M. with Woodie and Horn for rations. Ran the Packard and had one H___ of a time with traffic. The traffic now is terrible. M.P.s on every corner. But I’ll take my hat off now to any Q.M. Sergeant or officer. They have a man’s sized job in furnishing the American army with food, clothing, gasoline and horse-fuel. Marion, the sergeant at Belleville, is a prince. He likes us and favors us. Woodie is a clever diplomat and knows how to handle men. When we show up we get good service and the best of rations. We drew bread, bacon, fresh meat, vegetables, soap, candles, jam, butter, molasses and wood--the regular 5 day draw except that we got fresh meat whereas other organizations less popular got none.

At Belleville I was called down by a colonel for carrying more than one man on the front seat with me. 

Spent the P.M. in the shop on Bullock’s and Astlett’s car. At 4 P.M. Andie, Astlett, Johnnie and I went swimming. Water cold and so was the air.

This evening Eric and I played Pop and Boatman in bridge and after playing four rubbers lost by a score of 147.

The work is hard and dirty but it’s the change from the monotonous that appeals to me most.

Convois Autos.,

S.S.U. 647,

Par B.C.M.,

France.

Thursday – Sept. 5, 1918

Dear Mother:-

At last I have received a letter from you and at last my hand is well enough so that I can write fairly intelligently again (just a slight burn which made writing difficult for a few days). Your letter is dated July 30. Why mail has been so scarce this last month is more than I can tell unless much was lost through submarine sinkings. Just four letters from the States have reached me this last month--2 from Dot, one from Cornelia Wright (Winona) and yours received yesterday. Today’s mail brought nothing.

Envied you every minute of your trip to Milnor. How well I recall our former experience in that country. I wonder if Johnnie is still up there. If not what is he doing and where is he going to college?

There’s not much to report from this end of the line. Everything is going satisfactorily. Am not quite as gleeful as I was a year ago this morning. A year ago yesterday we received our orders to move out of Verdun and a year ago this morning we were on our joyful way after a most trying month.

I am now a mechanic in 647 for awhile. I took the place of one of the boys who had never been out on a duty car and was very anxious to go on post for awhile. I, on the other hand, jumped at his job for several reasons.  1 – a good chance to learn a bit under an excellent teacher (Mechanic Risley). 2 – fifteen months of driving is enough for one dose. 3 – I have a regular home and a chance to unpack my duffle-bags and a decent place to sleep and a sure night’s rest unless something extraordinary happens. 4 – a slight increase in pay (I don’t know how much). The work is hard and dirty while it lasts but I don’t mind that a bit. It’s the change from the monotonous that appeals to me most.

Heard that S.S.U. 558 was near us a few days ago and Hap and I went down to call on them last Monday. 558, you will remember, replaced #61 last September. They are a Sewanee College ofthe South section and a fine lot of boys but most of all we wanted to see the French personel with them with whom we got so well acquainted before we left them. We found M. Langelier, our old “Marchal des Logis,” who is now acting French Lieutenant for the section. He is a peach and was as glad to see us as we were him. He took us right into officer’s mess hall, sat us down, placed a bottle of brandy in front of us, opened up a box of chocolates and a box of cigarettes and we talked and talked. Campelio, the cook, is still with them, now cooking for the officers only and very much happier now than he was with us when Lt. Moran was running the section. The book-keeper, whose name I can’t remember, is the only other Frenchman in the section who was with us up to Sept. last. They haven’t seen as much action nor suffered as many casualties as we have despite the fact that they have been on the Somme for sometime previous to their coming over here. We hope to see a good deal more of them before we separate again.

Bill Sloan made Fontaineblieu and is now working hard for a commission in French artillery. Tish Libby graduated sometime ago from the same school and is now on the front in the capacity of an “aspirant” which will probably mean a commission for him soon. Ralph Jacob and Henry Kingman are about to graduate from this same French artillery school. These boys, with the exception of Tish, are all old #61 boys, in case you don’t recognize their names. I wish I could get into that school but there is no chance now. I’m stuck for the rest of the war.

Haven’t heard from Marnie's Bill for sometime. I imagine he is still at Tours and as dissatisfied with his present job as ever.  I do wish I could meet him somewhere. I think perhaps I could improve his opinion of France a bit. Poor Bill! I want to get home as badly as he does but I’ve gotten over thinking about it all the time.

Well, it is supper time and I must quit.

With a great deal of love to everybody.

Grant.

After supper I read "The Man in Evening Dress"--a darn cheap story.

Through the late summer and into autumn of 1918 Grant had much to record in his diary as the build-up of men and materiel for the Battle of St. Mihiel (September 12–15, 1918) went on all around SSU 647. 

As you'll see, Grant was about to lose a bet! 

Tuesday, September 3, 1918:

Worked like a slave all day in the shop until 3 o’clock this P.M. when Johnnie, Fraser, Kirkpatrick and I went swimming in the Moselle. Afterwards I washed clothes and shaved. After supper I wrote a letter home and read The Man in Evening Dress--a darn cheap story. Got a letter from Bill Sloan today which relieved some tension as the last we knew he was up in the western fighting and we haven’t heard from him for a long time. He is at Fontainebleau studying in the French artillerie school. He likes it there very much though the course is stiff. Tish [Libby] has already graduated and is now an aspirant. Ralph Jacob and Henry Kingman graduate in about 2 weeks. Aviators (Boche) kept us awake for several hours. Spent the later evening in the cellar.

Wednesday, September 4:

Spent the day in the shop after making a route trip as aide to Tichener. Took out, relieved and put back two sets of transmission bands. A dirty job and tiresome, but I’m not sick of my new position yet.

Big preparations are being made in this sector for something or other. Schmittie swears there is going to be an attack here by the 11th of this month. I bet him a dinner that there would be no attack here by the 11th. Later he crawfished and said he bet it would be sometime this month. I bet him another dinner on that. What if I lose two of them! There are several reasons for believing that there is to be no attack here:

1. Everybody seems to know about it and are talking about it. 

2. They haven’t enough troops up here yet to attack in this sector. Troops are coming up, but most of them are down from the western front where they have taken part in the Franco-Amex drive and it isn’t logical to suppose they would put them right into action again. This is a rest sector -- always has been and, I think, will continue to be one until next spring. To be sure, this is the logical place for a drive should the English advance be checked and threatened by counter-attack. It’s a good betting proposition. Troops are coming in every day. The roads are busy with ammunition and supplies. Planes on observation are thicker. Observations balloons are more plentiful. A prisoners’ pen is being built near Belleville. Artillery activity is increasing. A couple of our posts have been shelled. It is very interesting to watch and we are wondering what is going to come of it all. Our work remains about the same except we have eight posts now instead of seven.

Three letters -- Mother (July 30), Dot (July 31), Connie Wright (July 30).

Grant and his friend, Allen "Happy" Ahlers, have a reunion with comrades in arms from the year before in Verdun. 

Monday, September 2, 1918:

Changed a front spring for Mark Kerr right after breakfast. At 10 A.M. Risley and I took Hap [Ahlers] and McCrackin into Nancy where they board the train tomorrow morning for [a permission in] Cannes. We also took parts in to be exchanged at the Auto Park. 

While at the Park I learned that [S.S.U.] 558 was in our vicinity. They replaced us last Sept. at Trondes. They are still with the 42nd French Division so Hap and I were particularly anxious to find them. After dinner Hap and I took the car and beat it for Eulmont where 558 is stationed. The first man we saw was Langelier. We fell all over him and he was quite as glad to see us. He ushered us in to the officers mess room, set a bottle of brandy, a box of chocolates and cigarettes before us and we visited and visited. Campelo, our old cook, is still with them cooking for the officers only. Well, we did have a good time talking over the old days and swapping yarns of the present. They haven’t seen much more action than we have in spite of their being on the western front during the Boche advance in April. They took part in the crisis and the turning point of the advance, but were immediately withdrawn and sent back en repos. The section has had no casualties nor many cars lost. They turned their Fiats (or rather, our Fiats) in for Fords last May. Langelier expects another baby in his home which makes two since the war broke out. He is very happy. Campelo is at last a happy and contented cook. Lt. Morau has left and a new American Lt. has been acquired. Langelier is acting French Lt. Campelo does nothing but the officers’ cooking. After inviting them all up to visit us and their inviting us to return with a mob for a meal sometime, Hap and I left for Nancy. 

We ate at the Café Lorraine--a very good meal for 8 francs. Risley ate elsewhere with some Nancy friends. We were to meet him at the Angleterre at 7:30. We got there about 8 o’clock but no Risley. Then the air-raid signals sounded and we all went down into mother earth for protection. Nothing very exciting happened. The Angleterre is near the depot--a section most often bombed in Nancy. The buildings on all sides have been hit, but the hotel itself remains untouched except for minor scratches. Until then 10 o’clock the planes hummed over-head dropping their hardware and the anti-aircraft were making a terrible racket. At 10 P.M. things quieted down and Risley showed up. We bade Hap & Mac a fond farewell with wishes for a perfect permission and started for Millery in pitch blackness. After leaving the city it wasn’t half bad driving and we made Millery shortly after 11 P.M.

A very successful day.