I can’t seem to wax enthusiastic over anything these days.

It goes without saying that 1917 was one of the most momentous years of the 20th century. The First World War was in its third year with no end in sight. The Americans joined the party in April, and the Russians, rocked by revolutions, left it in November. On the Western Front, months-long battles followed each other at Arras, Chemin des Dames, Passchendaele and Cambrai. Pushed to the breaking point, the French Army was seriously threatened by mutiny. The fighting was not limited, however, to Europe; battles were being fought in Africa and the Middle East. On the Red Sea Arabian troops seized Aqaba from the Turks.

Of course, 1917 was not all war. In that year the 2 millionth Ford Model T rolled off the assembly line, the first Pulitzer Prizes were awarded and the U.S. bought the Virgin Islands from Denmark.

In 1917 Ella Fitzgerald, John F. Kennedy and Indira Gandhi were born, and William F. "Buffalo Bill" Cody, Edgar Degas and Auguste Rodin died.

On the last day of 1917 Private Grant Willard sat down to write his family back in Mankato, Minnesota, about recent events. His outfit made several long trips in December to pick up Ford ambulances at the French port and deliver them to the front and Sandricourt. Driving for hours in the cold and wet, Grant caught a bad cold that hung on into Christmas.

Dec. 31, 1917

Dear Family:-

Christmas has come and gone and this is New Year’s Eve. It has all certainly been an unique experience for most of us. As Johnnie said yesterday, “I can hardly believe that Xmas is actually over.” And we’re not very anxious to spend another Xmas over here under the same conditions.

Christmas day was cold and dreary. The camp arose at 6:30 in darkness and tried hard to wish each other a “Merry Xmas.” I went right over to the kitchen for I was on K.P. to help give the boys as good a time as possible. We couldn’t fix the shack up very well because of lack of material but we did serve the food hot. Our menu was turkey, mashed potatoes, dressing, bread pudding, cake, figs, dates, candy, cigars (and all the wine the boys could walk away with). It was a pretty good dinner and I hope the boys appreciated the work it took in preparation. We fed about 100 men. As my whole day was spent in the kitchen I hardly realized that it was Xmas. The biggest treat of all came on Xmas eve when Johnnie Taylor came back from Paris with about six letters for me. There was one from Dad, one from Mother, Alice and Carolyn and Alice Farr. I was awfully glad to get them – they helped out much in making Xmas what it ought to be.

It would seem from your letters that I have been rather hazy in describing my present occupation and you are naturally curious to know what we are doing. I have been all this time trying to find out the same thing you want to know and I’m still in the dark. Odd jobs such as cranking and repairing Fords, setting up field kitchens, etc. seem to be our assigned tasks and to what it is all pointing none of us can find out. As I have already told you we have been taking some convoys to and from various places. Some have been ambulances up to the front and others have been Ford trucks from St. Nazaire to here. The work is far from interesting in this weather, which is cold, windy and with considerable snow from here north. There has been a great deal of dissatisfaction among the men of our section most of whom are old Norton-Harjes men who have seen service at the front and are naturally discontented with anything less. It has been rumored that they are trying to make a casual section our of us to act as a reserve, subject to call when needed, and in the meantime to keep Sandricourt Camp in good condition and to replace all old Fiat sections with Ford cars. This is the most likely report, I think, although there is absolutely nothing official upon which to base any speculation whatever.

Wednesday, Jan. 2, 1918

Yesterday being New Years we had the day off and I spent it in bed as did many others. Our last trip to Bar-le-Duc with a section of Ford ambulances in a blinding snowstorm was too much of a strain on most of the fellows and many of us have been laid up for a few days. There is nothing on a Ford ambulance to protect one’s face from the wind. It was beastly cold all the way up with a 60 mile an hour wind blowing most of the time. The roads were like sheer ice so that we were compelled to take three days going up instead of two. We only lost two cars, both from skidding and no one was hurt. One car skidded into a curbing and crushed a rear wheel and the other skidded off the road completely and rolled over on its side. Fraser, the driver, is an old Section 61 man-–he miraculously escaped injury. I had my first experience of dropping out of place in convoy-–once with set clutch bands and again with frozen water. Hap and Johnnie were both along and came through with no trouble to speak of although I think every one dropped out of convoy at least once. I hope this is interesting to you. I can’t seem to wax enthusiastic over anything these days. It did seem good to be back into old Bar again. It was on my last visit there that I had a memorable experience in an air raid of which I think I told you. Since then they have been raided many times and the town has been evacuated twice. Certain sections are in ruins and the old hotel in which I slept last September is shattered by nearby explosions.

Coming back we got Sunday in Paris. Most of the day was spent in cleaning up and various baths were lavishly patronized. I saw Miss Mullen. She has moved temporarily to Hotel Brighton and expects to locate an apartment soon. Last night I got a second pair of socks from Dot with a box of cigarettes. It must have been sent some time ago but was held for a Xmas package as it was so labeled on the outside.

We got back into camp Sunday night (Dec. 30) and I went to bed with a bum stomach. The only good food we get on these trips we buy ourselves--the rest is cold and not very appetizing. Lamentable condition but true.

Now I must quit for I have many other letters

to write before I go to Paris in the morning where I will mail this.

With much love,

Grant.

Future Address:-

U.S.A. Amb. Section 647

A.E.F. with the French Army,

Par B.C.M. France.

Strange to say it seemed a great relief to be back in the midst of destruction again.

Grant's boredom in camp is broken up by volunteering for KP and a road trip.

Tuesday, December 10, 1917:

Still at Sandricourt with no signs of departure in the near future. Sections have come and gone, but we stay on forever keeping the camp in shape and doing the work of a day laborer. Brownie has gone and we miss him. A California man has taken his place in the barracks and we have nothing in common.

On Monday, Dec. 2, Eric Astlett, “Pinard Joe,” “Mac” McGuire and myself volunteered for Kitchen Police. This regular detail consists of pealing potatoes, carrots and onions, cutting and carrying wood for kitchen fires, serving meals, washing dishes and helping the cooks generally. It’s the dirtiest, rottenest, hardest, longest and most thankless job on the place, but it pays well in eats, gives one a good stand in with his section cook and is a relief in its regularity. We have volunteered for another week and were readily accepted because the cooks don’t like to be continually breaking in new recruits. We get up at 5:45, start right in working and don’t quit until 7:30 at night. We are relieved from every other work--morning roll-call, noon recall and mess-call, French class, evening recall and retreat. There are three French women and one Frenchman cook who do the kitchen work and preparation of meals. Then there are the various American section cooks who have a kitchen of their own and help out the meals by supplying such side dishes as an occasional salad, pies, baking-powder biscuits, stews, etc. We are really eating very well indeed out here. We K.P.s stand in well with the cooks by working hard and long. With the women we are all “Mon cher.” The French are very willing to do anything for an A.R.C. man so that in the kitchen we stand ace high. The Allentown men don’t get far and I’m afraid are making a reputation in this section which is somewhat of a slander on the true American character.

Last Wednesday, Dec. 4, the monotony of this camp life was broken by the departure of 20 Ford ambulances for the front to replace a section of Fiat cars there. Noyon is located about 50 km northwest of Soissons, but still in the Department of Oise. The famous St. Quentin district is almost directly north about 50 km. So that while the district is now comparatively quiet the ruins are many and exceedingly complete in places. The Germans were forced to evacuate this territory not more than nine months ago so that there is much which has been left untouched since the evacuation. Strange to say it seemed a great relief to be back in the midst of destruction again. The sound of guns was like sweet music and more than one “conductor” on that convoy longed to be left there to once more share the risks of those brave French warriors. We left Sandricourt at about 9 A.M. and reached Chantilly by noon and ate our lunch there. Chantilly is the famous racing center of France and hence has become pretty well filled up with English horse breeders and jockeys. Practically every one speaks English there so we had a fine half hour there. We didn’t have time to see the course. Racing has practically passed out now of course, but some of the horses are still there and the track is ever kept ready.

Many funny things happened in the morning. Most of us had become accustomed to running automobiles so knew nothing of the mysteries of a Ford. The parade had hardly started when Hap Ahlers tried to scale a rock pile in his car and all hands had to turn-to to get him off his perch. While passing through the town of Beaumont, Horn Snader ran down a hearse on its solemn way to the cemetery followed by quite a line of sorrowing ones. It was really awfully funny to an unprejudiced onlooker and still funnier to hear him tell the story, but to those nearest and dearest ones it didn’t seem so funny. The Sergent de ville threatened all kinds of punishment and had poor Snader nearly wild when our lieutenant showed up and smoothed the matter over. Fortunately the car was not much damaged.

We arrived at Noyon about 4 o’clock and left the cars in an auto park there. We took a 5:50 train to Paris where we spent the night leaving at 7:40 the next morning for Sandricourt. It was great sport and I hope we may repeat it in the near future.

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.

I don’t like Fords

Monday, October 29, 1917:

Reveille sounded this A.M. at 5:45 and we dressed in the dark and cold. Roll call at 6 and breakfast at 6:30. I was assigned to a fatigue with Woodell (Norton-Harjes Section 60) and Anderson (Am. Paris Service). Those of us from the Norton-Harjes and American Field Service who are unattached to any particular section are known as casuals. At 7 o’clock fatigue bugle sounded. Woodell, Anderson and I were given two cars (Fords) and told to go up to the Chateau and paint cars. I ran one of the Fords and managed to get the car up there without smashing it and us. I don’t like Fords and hope we won’t have to use them at the front.

Washed Fords in icy water all morning. In the P.M. we painted two Fords. They were in excellent condition before we spoiled them. They were all new and shiny and we covered them over with an olive green, heavy paint.

The evening was ours to do as we liked. We hovered around the stove trying to keep warm for awhile and then I went to bed.

Tuesday, October 30:

Painted Fords all day. We slopped four more into condition.

Sat around the fire again this evening, too cold to write or read, and drank “pinard” punch with the boys. Pinard punch is wine heated up with lemons. It’s pretty good for warming purposes.

Rude Awakening

On Friday, October 26, 1917, Grant Willard, Allen "Happy" Ahlers and Eric Astlett returned to Paris from leave on the French Riviera--and entered a new life as soldiers in the U.S. Army. They reported to headquarters the following morning and immediately ran afoul of the American military bureaucracy. Report in an hour for transport to the Sandricourt training base! You can't be ready in an hour? Well, come back at 1430 hours for the transport. Returning at 1430 they were told to report Sunday morning at 1030.

The former Norton-Harjes boys were in for rude awakening when they reached their old base north of Paris. The quiet, picturesque farm at Sandricourt they had known only four months earlier had been transformed into a larger American military base. In the months to come, Grant and his comrades would come to know the routine and drudgery of army life.

Sunday, October 28, 1917:

This A.M. at 11:30 we (Eric, Hap and I) left for Sandricourt Base via Neuilly. We got our noon meal and left there at 2:30, arriving in Sandricourt about 5 o’clock. The place is far from being the old Sandricourt Base. Several hundred Ford Ambulances are parked in what used to be a beautiful green pasture in front of the courtyard. The old orchard now affords shelter for barracks and a YMCA tent. The yard was piled with packing cases and Packard trucks with many campaign-hatted soldiers walking around.

A bugle sounded and everybody lined up for mess. We were handed dishes and told to fall into line and report in the office after dinner. We ate soup, meat, potatoes and coffee. In the office we were given blankets and the order of the day and told to get to bed. We were put up in the attic with strangers. It was cold and dark. The heat furnished by a little stove at one end of the room passed out through holes in the roof without giving much comfort. But I slept and slept hard and was plenty warm in spite of the biting cold.

We danced to good American music and played American games.

Tuesday, October 23, 1917:

Slept all morning. Promenaded this P.M. did some shopping and took tea at Vogardes. This evening we were invited out to Broggiotti’s château. Mr. Broggiotti was born in Italy, but went to America when he was 3 years old, ran away from home and went to western U.S. where he became a rough rider on the western ranches. Later he took up singing and since has traveled all over the world. He married an Italian girl and now is the proud father of eight fine children--4 boys and four girls--and the owner of several beautiful châteaux. He and his wife both speak beautiful English. Two of the small boys speak French and Italian. The rest of the family speak English, French, Italian and German. We had a very nice time at their home. We danced to good American music and played American games. "An enjoyable time was had by all."

Wednesday, October 24:

Loafed around most all day. Took coffee this evening with Mr. Blake and Foster Guest, a young American aviator with the French Govt. We went to the beach and met more Americans. A Mrs. Brant was particularly nice to us and asked us to please look her up when we were in Nice again. She has two attractive daughters. We retired early. Tomorrow we leave.

Thursday, October 25:

Packed up and left Nice at 2:52 P.M. on a 1st Class officers’ train. Our hotel bill amounted to about 100 francs a piece including tips and extras. Not bad at all. We got excellent service.

Off to Monaco

Monday, October 22, 1917:

A very eventful day. Eric, Hap and myself left by train at 7 o’clock this morning for Monte Carlo. We traveled down the coast thru the most beautiful country I have ever seen. We were in Monte Carlo by 8:30. After taking pictures of the exterior we were shown through the Cassino -- the famous Monte Carlo Cassino where fortunes have been made and lost by a mere revolving wheel. The place opens at 9 o’clock for men in uniform who are not allowed to gamble and closes at 10 o’clock when the tables are opened. Our guide uncovered several of the tables for us and explained the games. It surely is a lavishly decorated place. We saw the theater where the Prince gives his famed concerts and even got into the Prince’s private box.

Then we went up to Monaco, went into the palace, the Prince’s garden and museum. We took many pictures and then took the train for Menton, the border town between France and Italy. We walked up to the border and across into Italy where we all sent postcards to our families. After doing Menton we returned to Monte Carlo, had tea at the Cafe de Paris beside the Cassino and then took the tram for Nice. It was indeed a glorious day and we are indeed thankful that we were fortunate enough to be down in this wonderful place during the war. We are making a very inexpensive trip and seeing much for our money.

They tell us there are many Americans in Nice who are anxious to entertain us all.

Happy Ahlers, Eric Astlett and Grant Willard set off for the French Riviera for nine splendid days of leave...

Saturday, October 20:

We put in a pretty good night in our compartment. I slept the best I have ever slept on a French train. The scenery all day has been beautiful. It is warm down here -- quite different from Paris atmosphere. The train is pretty well crowded with officers. Nice is a very popular place for permissionaires and one certainly doesn’t blame them. We are passing down the Mediterranean coast. The water is very blue, the shore line a dull grey except where a cliff juts straight up out of the water which appears a beautiful pink color. The foliage is heavy and green with many palm trees lining walks and roadways. Flowers are plentiful. On our left are the barren mountain tops looking down at us. These are not as beautiful in themselves as those we saw in Rupt-sur-Moselle, but they make the entire picture the most wonderful I have ever set eyes on. They make a perfect background for these little garden spots called villages.

Arrived at Nice about 3 P.M. The first person we recognized was Fraser on his way back to Paris. He reported Nice as being the best place in the world. The next person was Ralph Jacob who just came down a few days ago with Art (his brother) and Don Smith. They return to America soon. Ralph told us to go to the O’Connor Hotel, which we did. We reserved three rooms on the fourth floor overlooking the sea for 12 francs a day with meals. It is a beautiful hotel and, apparently, very popular. This is not the popular season in Nice we are told. January and February are their best months but nevertheless the hotel is well filled with officers and civilians of both sexes.

We have met a Mr. Blake who is living here in the interests of the Canadian Secret Service. He is a fine man and takes it upon himself to look after the young fellows who come down here as see to it that they meet the best people and see and do the best things. Admiral Moore (ex) of the U.S. is staying here with his sister. He is a spry old man of about 70 years who takes a great deal of pleasure in meeting Americans and telling his interesting stories. He knows Minnesota very well and like all people from Minneapolis. There is a Canadian Colonel here who is very nice and has gotten up a swimming club for tomorrow morning to meet at 9:30 with penalties for all tardiness. The club now has a membership of about 12. They tell us there are many Americans in Nice who are anxious to entertain us all.

Why can’t they listen to people who have had experience and know?

Save for a letter that Grant Willard wrote home on October 13, there is a two-week gap in his diary. He resumed writing on October 20 while on a further leave.
Just a few quick explanations: while in Paris Grant stopped by the offices of a firm called Fenwick Frères & Co. (Fenwick Brothers), importers of American machine tools. Grant may have had a connection with them through his job at the Wells-Dickey Trust Co. before the war, or through his father at the Mankato's First National Bank. In any event, Fenwick trusted Grant enough to lend him money.

The other explanation has to do with Grant's occasional references to "Allentown" in his diary and letters. Shortly after the United States entered World War I in April 1917, the War Department created the U.S. Army Ambulance Service (USAAS) to allay French fears of a serious disruption in the vital ambulance service on which they had come to depend, and to provide the same service to American troops in the field. New recruits to the USAAS got their military training at a camp outside Allentown, Pennsylvania, and was the source for Grant's sometimes disparaging remarks about men from "Allentown." Some of the AFS and Norton-Harjes drivers shared a sentiment that they were superior to the Allentown drivers because they had volunteered before (sometimes years before) war was declared by the Americans. But as you'll see, Grant misjudged these men.
Saturday, October 20, 1917:

This is the first opportunity I have had to catch up on this record. Many things have happened during the last two weeks and, writing at this time, many interesting details will be omitted, but I shall try to assimilate those most clear to me.

On Friday, October 5, I called on Agnes [Nicholson] at her pension and took dinner with her there. We had an interesting talk and I’m sure she will help me out when she gets back to America. She said she would do her darnedest to get Dot over here and would explain my enlisting in a way which would make Dot proud of me. God bless her if she does! She left for Bordeaux on the next day so I didn’t have the opportunity of sending anything, but messages back by her. All souvenirs from the front are too bulky and I had no time to purchase some little remembrance. I’m sorry for it and tried to get down to Bordeaux before she sailed, but couldn’t get my "ordre de mouvement" soon enough. I sincerely hope the Rochambeau had an easy journey.

Got a room at the [Hotel] Silvia with Hap Ahlers and we were having much fun together when our money ran out. We formed a corporation and pooled our capital. I called on Mr. Fenwick and was advanced 250 francs. This carried Happie and I through.

Took Miss Mullen to dinner once and once to hear Mignon at the Opéra Comique and she took me to dinner twice and had us up for two teas, at one of which she served coffee. Took lunch one afternoon with M. André Gotie of Fenwick Frères and toured the city with him. He is a fine Frenchman having spent several months in America.
The blow came when Mr. Havemeyer told us our section was being relieved in two days by an Allentown section. This all happened on Friday, October 12. We had a hurried meeting and concluded that as long as all of the five who had signed on with the new work were then on permissions that it was up to some of us to return and look after our belongings. So Hap Ahlers, Johnny and myself asked Mr. Havemeyer for an ordre de mouvement so that we could catch the 12 o’clock train for Toul. He told us to go to rue Pinel -- it was then 10:45. We were told there that we couldn’t get an ordre without papers from 7, rue François. After we had argued and argued and accomplished nothing, Mr. Kemp appeared. We told him our story and got our ordre almost immediately -- 11:15. Could we make the 12 o’clock? Yes, we picked Johnnie up at the Silvia and pushed a taxi to the depot at top speed leaving our rooms still engaged and everything we owned strewn all around. We thought we would return on the following day with the section. We reached Toul at 7 that evening, managed to run on to a man who could speak English who called up our headquarters at Trondes and I talked with the Chief on the phone. He sent a car right in for us so that by 10 P.M. we were in camp. It surely seemed good to see all the boys again.
On Saturday, October 13, the Allentown boys came and our section with the exception of Zac Jordan, Bill Sloan, Rappley, Bartlett, Clark, Johnny, Hap, Chief and myself took the morning train into Paris. It was hard to see them go and the Chief almost broke down. Embusqué [company pet] was never the same dog again, he missed the boys so. We nine stayed until Tuesday A.M., October 16, with the new crowd helping them get started in their new work and instructing them on the Fiat car.

They are fine fellows, all college men and all from the southern States. They have at their head a doctor of the boys own choice which was exceedingly fortunate. They were long on discipline which is to their advantage. It was our weak spot. We acted out of respect to our Chief. They act because it has been ordered to do so. Our kitchen was remodeled and much improved. Our attic was swept and shined like a parlor. Everything was systematic and performed to the command of the bugle. How different! They needed help from us, however. They were ignorant about the cars and the work at the front, of course. Their equipment was far too light. And right here I would like to launch a severe criticism of the U.S. War Department. It is ridiculous that these boys should be sent out for winter work at the front with one blanket, one pair of shoes, two pair of heavy underwear, no gloves, regulation winter army coat with no lining and no fur collar, no cots and no helmets. It’s absurd and criminal. There is absolutely no excuse for it. They have had ample opportunity to find out what this work really means at the front and there are many of us who could tell them if they didn’t have opportunity of experiencing it themselves. It’s exasperating to say the least. We left them our helmets, gas masks, fur coats and as many warm clothes as we could spare in the way of underwear, sweaters and shirts and gloves. They weren’t even allowed to carry sweaters in their equipment. They most all had them due to the kindness of their Lieutenant. But all of this extra clothing is so important in this work and yet it is all prohibited by the American Army. Why can’t they listen to people who have had experience and know?

Well, on October 16 we left the boys in much better spirits and with a little better knowledge of their requirements and came to Paris. Hap and I again roomed together at the Mont Thabor as the Silvia was full. Our time was spent in getting our discharge from the American Red Cross and reporting to American headquarters for our new work. Everything is in a mess. No one seems to know what is to be expected of him. Our Chief was refused a commission which is a rotten shame and a disgrace to the U.S. management. They couldn’t find a better man in the world for this work. He is a natural leader of boys such as we are. On Friday when we called we were asked if we would like a permission before we went into the new work. Of course we did so we were given 9 days in which to do as we liked. After a short consultation we (Eric, Hap and myself) decided to go to Nice. Johnny was all for getting a job and Fraze was already in Nice. We got our ordre de mouvement at the American headquarters, rushed over to rue Pinel and got them activated. By 5:30 P.M. we had all arrangements made for going on the 8:05 express - 2nd class.