I have endeavored to fill my days without the use of cheap fiction stimuli.

In this letter to his father and some diary entries written at the same time, Grant discusses more details of the army's plans to send them home. And he makes reference to stress caused him by his fiance's troubling mental attitude. 

Convois Autos.,
S.S.U. 647,
Par B.C.M.
France

Bretzenheim, Germany
March 1, 1919

Dear Dad:-

Your letter of Feb. 10 caught me last night prone on my bed reading The Fighting Chance by Rob’t. W. Chambers.  I had reached the point in the story where the hero had about won the battle and all he needed was the girl to cinch the deal.  I postponed the cinching part until after I had read your letter.  The lack of good reading material out here is distressing.  Occasionally the K.C. gives us a new batch of Top Notch, All Story, Strand, etc., but these are not very satisfactory.  I have endeavored to fill my days without the use of cheap fiction stimuli.  Have succeeded pretty well through the medium of letter writing, filling in spare moments with a huge volume of the History of Europe since 1812.  The weather is clearing up and the ground is about dry so we are growing more and more into the outdoor life (other than driving, I mean) – hunting (rabbits primarily), baseball, football, soccer – most anything.  For indoor sports these last few months we’ve had a great deal of fun on bowling alleys in Mayence, English and straight billiard tables; scheduled tournaments among ourselves, challenges of one man to another then the selecting of teams – all has helped tremendously in maintaining a quite marvelous esprit de corps with the section.  While other units have been having considerable trouble within their own organization in maintaining that spirit of good fellowship so essential to a life such as this, we have grown closer together if anything.  I’m pretty sure we could go through another war without the slightest friction within the unit if we had to.

Grant's dad, W.D. Willard

But all of this has nothing to do with our getting back to the States.  The next is a little more promising these days, Dad.  Lieut. Kendrick came rushing into camp the other day and said that orders were now in our “auto parc” for his section (649) and ours to leave these parts in convoy for base camp on the 26th of this month.  We are also scheduled for base camp in the last official reports printed in the Radiator.  This should mean the States by the latter part of April.  What will happen over there you probably know better than we.  What are they doing with the U.S.A.A.S. men as they reach the States?

That makes me think: in my last letter to Sis I urged your coming east about the time I was due to arrive but the more I think it over the useless the idea seems.  We may be sent to a camp in Alabama, for instance.  Who knows?  There will undoubtedly be some period of waiting before we are mustered out.  We may be given a furlough during this period and we may not.  If agreeable to you and if possible I should like to spend three or four weeks in the east with Dot before I come west.  But these are things which will have to be settled after I arrive in America.  Here’s hoping that April will see us there!

Another thing, Dad – don’t tack Sergeant on to my name.  I’ll tell you the story in brief: Last November we ran short of sergeants – one having been made a private by request, one made a lieutenant and sent to another section and one called in to go to school.  None were expected back.  Swain, Snader and I were called into conference with the lieutenant and told that if we did not take the jobs vacated that he would have to handle it through headquarters which would mean their sending out three new sergeants from base camp because of overabundance of such at camp.  Obviously this was not desired.  Besides we had had an experience with one such a short time before.  So we took the jobs as unwarranted sergeants appointed by our lieutenant.  I handled details and assignments.  Swain handled the cars and shop.  Snader was the mess sergeant merely continuing with the work he had previously been doing as a private.  Everything sailed smoothly until Christmas time when our old warranted sergeant, who had been sent in to school and who was not expected back, suddenly put in an appearance.  My department had formerly been his.  He was warranted, I was not but I was determined to continue with the work until asked to discontinue by the lieutenant, who appointed me.  Then came a trip to Speyer which kept me away from camp for a day and a half.  When I returned I found that I had been relieved of my duties.  Details were posted on the bulletin board signed by the warranted member.  Thinking that it was official and that I would be notified as soon as I saw the lieutenant I automatically retired.  Nothing was said to me by the lieutenant so I went to him and asked to be officially relieved, that four sergeants were too many and that the warranted member I couldn’t get along because of differences in methods.  He told me that I had made a mistake in letting him take my work away from me, that it was not official and against his wishes but that as long as I didn’t want to continue he would let things slide for awhile but would not officially relieve me.  And so it has been ever since.  I am officially still a sergeant but have no duties.  It’s very embarrassing to me as well as to the warranted member.  I am not put on details as I wish to be.  Have been to the Lieut. twice more and each time he has said “wait.”  Why, I don’t know.  I don’t want the job and never did.  It means nothing in this outfit except someone to look after a few odds and ends and trash.  No discipline is necessary in this outfit and has never been used.  So you see that while technically I am still sergeant I am no longer known as “serg” among the fellows. Just “Jess.”

Am enclosing a clipping which appeared in the Stars & Stripes not long ago regarding the organization of S.S.U.  Please save it somewhere because I may need it for reference.

German money continues to decrease in value.  We now get two marks for every franc.  Formally it was 1.42, the 1.62, now 2.  Is Germany going all to pieces? 

Lovingly,
Grant.


Sunday, March 2:

A beautiful day! Fraser, Stender and I took a long walk out over the fields. We saw many rabbits. My what whoppers! We wasted all our ammunition because they are almost impossible to hit with a gat. Once in awhile they will sit up and give you a shot at them. With a rifle it is quite possible to get them. The boys are very successful with the shotguns.

Went down to bowl this evening, but found the alleys already occupied so we played billiards – Fraser, Soles, Woodie and I.


Monday, March 3:

Rainy and miserable. Stayed in most of the day reading and writing. Played billiards in the evening with Woodell, Fraser and Soles.



Tuesday, March 4:

The same as yesterday – cold wet. Titchner and I lost to Burt and McCrackin in bridge and in the afternoon Tich and I went to the Kurfürst for billiards.



Wednesday, March 5:

The Distinguished Service Cross men came back today and the camp listened to their experiences all day. The purpose of their being called in was a picture of each man which took about 5 minutes. It is further affirmed that we are going into Base Camp about the 25th or 26th of this month. There, it is reported, we lead an easy life, but that the food is none too good. We are quarantined for a week just before sailing and very likely will be in camp about 2 weeks, depending upon transportation facilities. If the weather is decent there will be plenty of time for sports.


Thursday, March 6:

Luykx and Hap left today for 3 days in Paris. Am on call today – none came in. Played bridge in the evening and Tich and I again lost to Burt and McCrackin. Much mail came in. Got 1 from Dot, 1 from Mother enclosing photographs of herself, Sis and Johnnie, 1 from Mr. Well and News Letter from the Plymouth Congregational.

Dorothy Houghton Willard (1894-1979)

Dot worries me considerably. Slept very little tonight because I couldn’t get over the tone of her letter. She seems to be losing hold on things. She’s brooding over what cannot be altered.