We are to stay right here for 15 days with nothing to do but dodge shells.

Several nights of aerial bombardment left Grant and his comrades a bit skittish...

Sunday, September 2, 1917:

A sun-shiny morning but cold. It rained very hard last night. I found the tent in which I had my films hung had just about dropped, but my films were not much hurt.

Don Smith and Happy Ahlers came in from the front this A.M. They reported things in very bad shape out Carrière Sud way. The road was being shelled continuously. Two gendarme told the boys as they were passing Sainte-Fine, that the road was impassable, but they went on. They met a Ford stuck in a shell hole and stopped to help him out. After they got him out and got his motor going there came a Bang! Bang! right near them and showered them with mud. They decided to hang around awhile so they stopped their motors and climbed into the nearest shelter they could find which chanced to be a ditch beside the road. The Boche were undoubtedly trying for the road for those boys sat there for an hour during which time 200 shells must have dropped around them. They tried to time the shells, planning to get out of this exposed place if they could. They seemed to be dropping them about 15 seconds apart, one at a time. Immediately after one had come in they got out and cranked their cars when Bang! Bang! two landed a short way down the road. A few seconds later 3 came in. They decided the Boche were after them in particular and stuck closer than ever to their ditch. After an hour of this torture the firing let up a bit and the boys made a dash for Carrière Sud. The blooming Boche began shrapneling them but they made the post untouched. At this point two days ago one of our cars and a Ford were hit by separate shells and blown to splinters. Another of ours had a radiator perforated and had to be towed in. The drivers of every car happened to be in the abri when the shells came so were untouched. Miraculous? Well, I should rather say so. I pray to God that He will continue to watch over us. Only 13 of the 20 cars are now in running condition, but not a man touched by shell except Geo. Reed who lost two fingers.

Reported today that we are now in repos [rest and relaxation] and are to stay right here for 15 days with nothing to do but dodge shells. The fellows pretty much peeved. I am too. There is no rest to be had here. Last night was a clear night and the Boche aviators swarmed over head bombing roads, barracks and magazines. I just had time to finish my pictures when the first bomb lit on the hill 200 yards away. Wow! Such a crash. I dropped the film in the water and beat it for an abri where I found the whole camp. Finished my pictures and went to bed. There were 3 of us in the tent, the rest in the abri. The Boche flew until 3:30 when it began to get light and they disappeared. Bombs were dropped on all sides of us, but we were left untouched. Verdun & the barracks got it particularly hard.

Monday, September 3:

Rather sleepy outfit this A.M. However the news that we leave tomorrow for a 15 day repos with very slim chances of ever coming back to this Verdun sector soon cheered the camp up to a boiling point. This has truly been a terrible strain and the fellows are showing it. The report is that we go to Alsace after repos.

The pictures came out very well.

Later. We have orders to go to Laheycourt for repos. We have been through Laheycourt on our way from Brabant and everybody is very well satisfied. How long we stay no one seems to know. Breakfast at 6:15 tomorrow A.M.

Another clear night. Took bed-roll and turned my steps toward an abri. Practically the whole camp was present. Bombs were dropped promiscuously about our neighborhood and I was glad I had repaired to the abri in preference to sleeping, or trying to sleep, in the tent. Hap Ahlers, Don Smith, the two Jacobs, Henry Kingman and Russ Stair were in our abri with several French officers.

The air is sickening with the stench of dead...

Wednesday, August 29, 1917:

Went on front duty this A.M. at 7 o’clock. Am now at La Source waiting for blessés (1 P.M.). The brancardiers have a fine time with Johnny out here. They call him “Baby” and ask him about his wife and children back in New York. They call me the “Black man” (because of my beard, I guess). Eddie Berry they call the “whiskey man” and Townsend of Sec. I the “rum man.” They like to have us out here and do all they can to make us comfortable. They feed us well and treat us well. The Boche, however, do all they can to make things uncomfortable. They started shelling the place about 5 P.M. today and kept it up until well into the morning, except for about two hours from 8 to 10 P.M. These two hours they were too busy keeping under shelter from the French barrage fire which was terrific while it lasted. I asked the corporal if it would be possible for us to mount the hill back of the poste and watch the fire. He gladly put on his helmet and led the way. It was truly a wonderful sight. The moon was shining brightly, almost full. We could see Ft. Vaux which is nothing more than a slight mound of earth, about 200 yards from where we stood almost as clearly as if it were day. Looking off toward the German lines, which are about 2 kilometers at this point, the French barrage fire in the foreground blinded our view and prevented our seeing further. It was one continuous roar of 75’s and quick succession of flashes as these little “terrors” send their “best regards” to the Boche. The ground on which we stood was once Boche territory and severe fighting had taken place there when they were forced to evacuate. It is now part of that district called “no man’s land.” No human being can stand on this ground in the daytime and expect to return alive. The air is sickening with the stench of dead and Boche helmets can be seen among the French with heads still in them. The ground is dotted with shell holes and there is not a tree in sight. Do you wonder I had a terrible dream later?

Tried to sleep, as usual, in stretcher under the man with consumption. Spent a restless night though I did manage to catch a wink now and then. I dreamed of war, of course, and my family was horribly involved. I can’t recall the details, but it was horrible and I was the bloodthirsty, heartless villan. Of course I don’t blame the brancardier for having consumption; any one living in a hole like that for any length of time would indeed be fortunate if he escaped it. But it did seem too bad that he had to keep everybody else in misery. Such is war!

Shells and shrapnel were coming in almost all night and I didn’t sleep very well.

The photographs that Grant Willard took of "no man's land" during his days at Verdun are really the most gruesome in the collection. 


Friday, August 24, 1917:

Went on duty this A.M. at 7:15. Came right out here to La Source to relieve Fritz Wheeler and Geo. Taylor who had been here all night and yesterday. We walked up on the hill and got a look at the German front. It is very gruesome up there with dead bodies lying around. We took some pictures though the light is rather poor and came back with souvenirs.

An American Ambulance man, Townsend, came out to relieve their other man. About 3 P.M. we were sitting in the doorway of the abri watching Boche shells trying to find a nearby battery of 105’s when suddenly a tremendous explosion blew us backward into the abri with sand and dirt all over us. We had heard no whine indicating a nearby explosion so were naturally much surprised. Every one was unhurt and look so funny that I couldn’t help laughing long and loud. It made the Frenchmen pretty mad. Townsend and I then went up to see where the shell had hit and to ascertain whether or not the road was passable. About 250 yards up the road we discovered the cause of our disturbance. A Boche shell had hit a pile of powder “Deweys” right beside the road which had in turn ignited a similar pile directly across the road. The result was two 15 ft. deep holes where the road used to be and no possible way of getting around the place. We were marooned at La Source until they could get the holes filled which would be until after the Boche had quit shelling the valley.

The Frenchmen don’t enjoy working under shell fire very well and I don’t know that I blame them. Two men had been burned alive in a near by abri as a result of the explosion and a big 105 camion was turned completely over. No wonder we felt it down in our abri. Later when some blessés came in to La Source we had to telephone for another car from Citerne to come out as far as the hole and then carry the blessés up that far. By 5 P.M. the Boche ceased firing and by 6:30 the road was sufficiently fixed for the Ford to get through. Johnny and I spent the night at La Source. Shells and shrapnel were coming in almost all night and I didn’t sleep very well. To add to discomfort the Frenchman sleeping on the stretcher above mine had a consumptive cough and kept spitting down the wall within 4 inches of my nose. Oh, war is hell!

I’ll be glad when we get out of this hole.

On August 17, Grant's comrade, George Reed, lost two fingers on his left hand by a burst of éclat--the French word for shrapnel. He received the Croix de Guerre for his injury but had to leave the ambulance corps.

Wednesday, August 22, 1917:

Geo. Reed was presented with Croix de Guerre this P.M. All fellows who were in camp at the time lined up and Lieut. Morin made the presentation and a pretty good one. Geo. has been very plucky indeed and every one in the section was very glad to see him get the honor. I hope my pictures of the event come out alright.

At 5:30 P.M. three of us were called out to take German blessés down to Souilly. Johnnie and I were first out with 5 couchés, one an officer shot through the abdomen who could speak very good English. We got to Souilly about 7 P.M. I had a chance there to talk to them. The officer told me that he had been through several attacks, but never had he seen anything to equal this last French attack. Their artillery fire for three days before the attack was so severe that they were cut off from provisions and had not eaten for three days. His men wouldn’t fight so they surrendered. The higher German officers had told them that the French were starving to death and couldn’t pull off a successful attack. They were very much surprised. 

I asked him if he was glad to be a prisoner and after some hesitation he said hurriedly, “No! Oh no! I can’t say that. I am an officer,” and murmured something about his “Vaterland” which I couldn’t catch. I asked him if there was any chance of his being traded back to Germany with French prisoners and he said, “No, not unless I am too badly wounded to fight anymore.”

We took dinner with Section 63 doing rear evacuation work out of Souilly. They have very fine quarters and a good cook, but want to go to the front. After looking at Jake’s car which was pretty badly shot up the other night some of them changed their minds.

On our way back we ran into Boche planes which were watching for traffic on the roads. One cut loose at us with a machine gun, but didn’t touch us. They fly very low at night and sail around with their motors off listening for traffic. An arsenal was bombed up near our camp. We were pretty well scared. After the arsenal got started shells were exploding right and left. We found the camp in abris, but another load was waiting for us and we drove right back to Dugny. We were machine-gunned again, but untouched. They were bombing right and left. The Dugny road ruined just after we came in and since then many cases have come in from that district as I sit here in the hospital writing. I have spent 2 hours of this night in an abri. Carrière Sud is a summer resort compared with this place tonight. Gosh! I’ll be glad when we get out of this hole.

The guns kept up an incessant roar so that it was almost impossible to make yourself heard.

In addition to the amazing diary that Grant Willard kept during WWI, he took photos. The images he captured at Verdun in August 1917 really illustrate the severity of destruction caused by the steady shelling. 

Monday, August 20, 1917:

Reported at Citerne about 6:30 this A.M. Practically every car in both sections is out on the job. This morning at 5 A.M. the biggest offensive in the history of the war started in dead earnest. The French and English are pulling together. The guns kept up an incessant roar so that it was almost impossible to make yourself heard. We found that the road had been blown out of existence during the night, that 3 of our cars and 2 Fords had been caught out there all night. The lieutenant of Section I jumped into a Ford with the order "Carrière Sud or demolished in the attempt."

A half hour later a Ford came in from Carrière Sud with a load of 3 couchés with whom he had spent the night near the shell hole on the road. He reported things to be in terrible condition--wagons, artillery, dead horses and men blocking all traffic until the lieutenant arrived and scared up enough Frenchmen to clear the road and shoot suffering horses, etc. The road had been temporarily repaired though German shells were still dropping in the valley. Soon one of our cars followed. They had also lain in a shell hole all night but reported our 3 cars safe as well as the men.

Then came a call for 3 more Fiats at Carrière Sud. Johnnie and I led the procession with our Chief. The road was certainly a mess, but we got through untouched, the closest shell breaking not closer than 150 yards away. We found Carrière Sud still on the map, but full of wounded. Soon there must have been a dozen cars there. Among the wounded were many Germans and many unwounded prisoners. The attack was progressing very well for the French and our 42nd Division had again pushed through all of their objectives and were ready to go on. After picking up several souvenirs in the way of Boche buttons, fatigue caps, helmets, etc. we loaded up our car and made a safe return trip. The Boche seemed to be searching for batteries all around us, but came uncomfortably close to our road. On the way in we passed many hundreds of German prisoners marching down the road. It gave great joy to the hearts of these tired Frenchmen. It is the first big offensive and actual gain they have made in this sector since the successful German repulsion at Verdun.

The car was a pool of blood.

In what is one of his most harrowing diary entries, Grant Willard describes his first exposure to chemical warfare and losing one of his charges.

Sunday, August 19, 1917:

Beautiful morning. No calls came in during the night. Johnnie and I went on duty about noon. We made one trip to La Source, 2 to Sainte-Fine and got no more calls until 2 A.M. Monday when we went to Berjes on a call for 5 bad couchés. It was a terrible trip. The road was jammed and it was close to 4 A.M. before we were able to get a passage. The location of Berjes is such that it is frequently heavy with German gas. Tonight they were sending gas shell after shell into the valley. The air was very still and heavy so that the gas did not rise as high as the [poste de secours]. We felt the effect of the gas on our eyes, nose and throat and watched the Frenchmen closely to know when to put our masks on. We didn’t need them all night though what little we got made us sleepy and tired. We waited at the poste about half an hour during which time we must have heard 100 gas shells explode in the valley below not more than 100 yards away.

We finally got our load of 5 couchés (very bad cases) and started on our return journey. By 5 o’clock we had reached the Citerne and by 6 o’clock Bévaux. The worst case had died on our hands. It was a depressing feeling to think that a man had suffered and bled to death in your car. He had one leg shot entirely away, the other leg badly crushed up to the knee and a bullet wound through the head. During the ride he had threshed around in semi-consciousness until he had broken the bandages on his left crushed leg and had bled to death. The car was a pool of blood. I am glad he didn’t live, however, because he was suffering terribly and would probably have had both legs removed at the thigh had he lived.

My turn will come soon

As August 1917 rolled on, Grant Willard went from the bucolic to the downright dangerous. Section Sixty-One moved to a base hospital just south of the city of Verdun known as the Surgical Center of Beaulieu. It was located at a cavalry barracks called Casernes de Bévaux. Today the old barracks buildings are part of a vocational high school and the only remnants of World War I lie in the national cemetery of Bévaux opposite.

Friday, August 10, 1917:

National Cemetery of Bévaux in 2008

8 o’clock found us on our way to our new base. We passed back over part of the same territory on which we came the other day. Reached our base about 5:30. At 6 o’clock three big German shells tore up the ground about ¼ of a mile off. We thought at first they were trying for us, but I think they were shelling one of the main roads near here. It caused a great deal of excitement anyway. The screams of the shells was terrific. They came about 1 minute apart and in approximately the same place. They certainly ripped up the sod. I foolishly watched two of them land from the fender of my car. The third one found me flat on the ground with the rest of the gang.

We have five posts to make with this hospital as a base. We are one mile from Verdun almost directly south. Our furthest post is up near Fort Douaumont about 1,000 yards from German lines. The rest are further south, but still near the lines and very exciting. This base is called Caserne Beaulieu or more familiarly Bévaux. It is a combination hospital and barracks and quite frequently shelled by the Boche. We are living in tents just out of the hospital walls – 14 in a tent. Our cars are parked about 100 yards from here under a big red cross flag. Aeröplanes are passing over continually.

This evening a German plane attacked an observation sausage right near here. The observer saw him coming and left the balloon in a parachute. Regardless of continual shelling from the ground the German made a beautiful swoop for the sausage, like a hawk swoops on prey, and burned it with an incendiary boom before the French could take it down. The German then went after a second sausage a short distance off. The observer left in a parachute, the French planes drove the German back over the lines before he did any more damage. It was extremely exciting to watch and we rooted like at a foot-ball game. The German was exceedingly clever and did his work beautifully. Later we saw an air battle in which a German plane was brought down inside the French lines.

Went to bed early after a hard day. Three of the boys went out with an American Field Service man tonight to learn the roads. We are to cover these 5 posts in conjunction with Section #1 of the American Field Service. We work on 24 hour shifts and they have already been here about 3 weeks. They are showing us the roads before the big offensive starts. Our work is most all done at night with no lights. My turn will come soon. The Field Service men say this is a particularly heavy district to cover.

After weeks of idleness Norton-Harjes Section Sixty-One was on the move. On August 2, 1917, they drove north through the major road and rail hub of Bar-le-Duc to a village called Erizé-la-Petite, halfway to Verdun on the famous Voie Sacrée (Sacred Way). Over this road, soldiers and supplies passed in convoys day and night during the 1916 Battle of Verdun, and beyond.

Sunday, August 5, 1917:

Rose at 7:45. Breakfast 8:00 A.M.--bacon and fried eggs and chocolate. Rainy. Cleaned car, played bridge, read The Afterhouse by Mary Roberts Rhinehart. Received letter from Dad enclosing 300 francs in American Express draft. Feel fine! Can now look the world in the face again. Dad asks for more livid details of work and France. Should I give them to him? I think it just as well to keep many of these things to myself until after the war any way.

We received orders of movement this evening. We are attached to 42nd Infantry [of the French Army], one of the best armies in France, now in repos. We join them at Revigny and follow them wherever they go. They will probably be in repos for a couple of weeks.

Monday, August 6:

[Written at 8:45 A.M.] Arose at 6:30. Breakfast at 7. Shaved and have car all cleaned up ready to go. Are now waiting for our load which consists of Frenchmen’s personals. Each car has to help on baggage so as not to overload the camion. We were off about noon after having spent the morning in preparation. From Erizé-la-Petite we went southwest to Brabant-le-Roi through Rembercourt, L’Isle-en-Barrois, Villote, Laheycourt, arriving about 4:30 this afternoon. We lined up and were talked to by the Lieut. of the Ambulance section whom we are replacing. He said they had done good work and had one of the best armies of France to work for and he hoped we would be able to fill their “boots” successfully. Their section didn’t look badly shot up, but most of the drivers were men over 30 years of age. They also drove Fiats.

We parked our cars in a little park and most of us slept right there. Some of the fellows went up to a barracks to sleep.

Outside of most of the towns through which we passed being almost totally wrecked by shell fire, we didn’t see so very much. The car ran perfectly. I drove the whole distance.