I’m broke and have been for over a month.

On this day, Grant Willard described in his diary the first day of Section Sixty-One's journey from Rupt-sur-Moselle toward Verdun. They spent the first night in the ancient city of Neufchâteau. There they encountered members of the U.S. Marine Corps, which had one of the earliest American training camps of the war in nearby Gondrecourt-le-Château.
 

Tuesday, July 31, 1917:

By 7 A.M. today everything was in readiness for our departure from Rupt. Johnnie and I had a heavy load of Frenchmen’s personal belongings. Practically every car had some kind of excess baggage. Our route for the next two days was given us and was as follows: Rupt, Remiremont, Épinal, Mirecourt, Neufchâteau (to spend the night here), Gondricourt, Vaucouleurs, Ligny-en-Barrois.

It had been raining for two days so the roads were perfect for convoy travel. The roads in this country are wonderful. The car was running beautifully so I let Johnnie drive most of the day which pleased him very much. There was not much excitement during the day. We gradually pulled away from the mountains and got out into a more level country. At noon we stopped at a farm and ate in a big barn as it was raining. Our meal was entirely cold except for some hot coffee after it was all over.

Neufchâteau 2010

When we reached Neufchâteau about 3:30 this P.M. we delayed about half an hour in town while arrangements were being made for spending the night. Suddenly a tremendous yell went up from our boys and looking down the street I saw the cause of it all. A Packard truck filled with American troops pulled up to the curb and our boys were making a beeline for them. It took me about 8 seconds to make the first 100 yards I covered. No sight has ever given me quite the thrill this one did. We did all but fall on their necks in our joy. They told us that there were about 13 regiments of them in that vicinity and about 12 regiments of Marines near Gondricourt. They had been over here for 2 months and were rapidly whipping into shape. This particular group were putting telephone lines through to Paris. They seemed very young, but had much pep and were looking in fit condition. They said they expected to be at the front in not more than two months.

After saying good-bye to these dear boys we parked our cars in a big cavalry barracks under the trees and prepared for the night. While we were still in the town waiting for further directions a very nice looking lady walking with a distinguished looking gentleman stopped at our car and she asked us, in very good English, who we were and where we were bound. She explained that she was an Irish nurse and that her companion was a very prominent French doctor, a specialist on typhoid fever. She said, “I can’t tell you boys how glad we all are to see America really over here at last. France has suffered more than but few of us realize and I’m speaking the truth when I say that France is absolutely spent. We in the hospital know as perhaps no one else knows the suffering these people have undergone. God bless you boys and your work.”

For dinner several of us went to a hotel in town where we met most of the section and ate delicious soup, real bread, tomato salad, meat, new potatoes and honey and peaches and plenty of good wine for 3 francs 50. I ate on Don Smith because I’m broke and have been for over a month.

How I long for the States today!

Section Sixty-One's idleness in beautiful Rupt-sur-Moselle had begun to irritate Grant Willard when he wrote this letter to his family back in Mankato. Little did he know that in a few short weeks he and his comrades would be up to their knees in wounded and dying men. 

The Beatrice mentioned in this letter was Grant's aunt. Beatrice E. Morrison (1882-1946) married Robert Sibley Willard in New York in 1906, and they settled in Mankato. In the years after the war, she became a friend to my grandmother, who like her, was a big city easterner who found herself married in small town Middle West.

July 26, 1917

Dear Family:-

Marion’s very nice letter written from Minneapolis came yesterday and Mother’s dated June 30 came today. Both were very newsy letters and welcome. You may be sure. It was the first mail which has come into camp for almost two weeks. There must be more somewhere. The Saturday Evening Post which Beatrice sent arrived yesterday and while I haven’t had time to read it, has been very much in demand around the camp. I don’t understand why our mail doesn’t come through faster. Perhaps it will when you start sending my mail to the new address which I shall give you later. None of the letters I have received have been censored and I have received the five you had written up to the one received today. Papers can be sent because many of the boys are getting them regularly. They come through as fast as the mail does. Why you hadn’t received more letters from me up to June 30th is more than I can understand. I have been writing to some one of you once every week and some times oftener. There should be a letter from me on every French liner to the States but there is much uncertainty and irregularity about everything over here now so I presume it is only natural that mail should be held up.

Perhaps you will not understand me now (and I can hardly explain it to you) but I am quite disappointed over the way things have been going on this side and wish I had stayed in the dear old U.S. and attempted to do my small part there. My mind, however, may be completely changed by tomorrow. This may not pass the censors here without considerable forethought and sacrifice. I was far from being in that stage of life where I could afford to give up everything for 6 months and coming to a new country without getting something more than a mere vacation in return. Yet, I regret to say, such has been the case. At Sandricourt we had the only real training we have had so far and I was cheated out of that by a sprained ankle which kept me in bed all but three days of our stay there. Since we arrive here we have had nothing to do but kill time. True we saw a very beautiful section of France in our drive over here and had some few experiences but nothing in the nature of those for which we came to this country. We are fully and splendidly equipped and very anxious to be called where we can be of most service and yet we sit. We have been sitting since July 2nd in this very spot not daring to leave our headquarters for any length of time for fear orders for movement would arrive during our absence. The survey is beautiful here in the mountains. Cherries, blueberries and raspberries are plentiful and many spare moments are spent in picking and eating the same. Chances for learning French are fair but very discouraging to one who doesn’t even have a working foundation and no vocabulary.

If I were a physical wreck and the doctor had insisted upon a 6 mos. vacation with absolutely no excitement I should be perfectly contented right here in France just as I am BUT I’m not over here on a vacation. I want to be busy doing what I can to aid a cause in which I believe thoroughly and unless things change pretty soon I am going to be darn sorry I ever decided on this move. Think of all I could have been doing in the States all this time. Outside of bearing a few guns occasionally and see a few air battles we wouldn’t know there was a war. We get practically no news except that which is three weeks old and know nothing of what is going on around us. I dare say you know more about the vital points of this war than we do, who are right here near the front.

Well, this mood has gradually come on me until it has reached the boiling point. I suppose it will terminate in our seeing doubly severe service as a result of our rather extended repos. Let it come, we are ready.

How I long for the States today! I simply must quit.

Much love, Grant.

New Address:
G.R. Willard
Section Américaine S.S.U. 61,
Bureau Central Militaire,
Paris, France.

Grant experiences a Bastille Day he'd never forget.

On July 2, 1917, Norton-Harjes Section 61 wound its way from Dijon to the town of Rupt in the Vosges Mountains. And there they remained encamped in a beautiful setting until the end of July. There was plenty of time to hike, swim, read and relax in this valley far from the horrors of the battlefield. On the 16th Grant wrote home to tell of an adventure while walking to and from Remiremont.

Monday – July 16, 1917

Dear Family:-

Tempus fugit!

It doesn’t seem very long ago since I wrote but I must take a few minutes to thank you for the gum and cigarettes. They were much appreciated. You couldn’t have selected anything more welcome at this particular time. American tobacco is a luxury and the supply, consisting of 2 lbs. of smoking tobacco, which I brought with me is just about depleted. Gum cannot be bought at all in this country. If the opportunity again presents itself instead of sending cigarettes I would prefer a pound can of Prince Albert pipe tobacco. A pipe full of American tobacco brings more satisfaction out here under these conditions than a good hot bath with clean clothes, both of which are luxuries. I couldn’t imagine myself admitting such a thing a couple of months ago to say nothing about actually feeling it but conditions now are quite different.

We are still in the same place as when last I wrote but that doesn’t tell you much. It is reported that orders for movement will come in a couple of days. We will not be sorry to move.

Saturday, July 14, is a big day in France, as you undoubtedly know. With the French in this district it seems to be a day when everyone gets drunk. I am pleased to state that not a single man in our section was under the influence of the stuff. In view of the fact that perhaps your knowledge of French history is as slight as mine, though I can hardly believe such could be the case, I will tell you what I know of July 14. In 1789 Louis XVI was King of France. It seems he was a devil and very unpopular. On July 14, 1789 the people rose up in their wrath, overthrew the government and tore down the Bastille where many were imprisoned and made to suffer unjustly. Then I think came a government run by a body of five men which was overthrown in ‘92 or ‘93 and another republic established. Anyway July 14th is the date of the fall of the Bastille and everybody is supposed to get drunk.

We had the day off (war was called off for the day) and six of us went down to a town about 7 miles from here, walking all the way, and had a good meal. It was a peach and only cost us about 4ƒ apiece or 80¢ in Am. money. On our way back we were invited in to a barrack and hospital just out of town. It was a large place and we later learned that it is one of the best in France. Thinking us to be American officers we were introduced to French majors, captains and lieuts. They were having a band concert in the park within and when we put in our appearance we were given a salute by the buglers and a French Lieut. (1st) stepped up and conversed with us in English. Privates stood at attention, as we passed, Lieutenants saluted. Gee! We felt queer. Then we were invited inside and were ushered into the theater where a performance was about to take place. We sat in leather arm chairs in the front row reserved exclusively for officers. Each chair had a place card in it bearing some officer’s name. I sat in Major somebody’s chair. In front of us was a row of wounded on their stretchers. Behind us were hordes of pretty nurses and then came the non-coms and privates. The show was good for an amateur get-up and several changes were made for our benefit. After it was all over we shook hands with officers and were saluted all over again and told to tell our “brother officers” that they were welcome anytime. It was a great experience and we laughed much over it all the way home. The officers over here ride in their own cars. If some of them could have seen us hoofing it for headquarters afterward they would never be nice to us again. Such is life in the army. Sherman was quite right.

Must mail this before it is too late. Several of us are going for a swim soon.

Much love,  

Grant

Sister Marion

Marion Willard Everett (1891-1978) was Grant's only sister, and they wrote each other frequently throughout the First World War. Her teenage life in Mankato was fictionalized by her friend, Maud Hart Lovelace, in Carney's House Party (1949), one of the Deep Valley books. Marion was the inspiration for the title character, Carney Sibley, and Grant that of her brother, Hunter.

Sunday – July 1, 1917

Dear Sis:-

Grant and Marion before the war.

Your good letter was received some time back. I was at Sandricourt when it came. A week ago today we had orders to go to the front. Monday we–-Section 61, the first to leave the Sandricourt Base-–went to Paris where we stayed until 5 P.M. when we took a train for Dijon. We arrived here Tuesday A.M. and have been here in Dijon ever since. Our cars have been assigned to us and we are now ready for service. Yes, it has been a long preparation-–too long. About a month of our time is up already and we haven’t done a thing but enjoy ourselves. This morning, however, we received orders to proceed to the front tomorrow at 4 A.M. Where, we have no idea.

Dijon is a town of about 100,000 and perhaps one of the best in France. We are the first Americans to arrive here and the town is ours. The French people are very nice to us indeed. It’s amazing how many of these people can talk English. We go around trying to make ourselves understood in French and are often asked to speak in English that we may be understood. As I write you now on the steering wheel of my car there is a young French boy talking English with my aide here beside me. He talks very well indeed.

Section 61 is equipped with 20 Fiat ambulances, one pilot car for our Lieutenant and Section chief and one camion for our kitchen supplies. This week has been spent in looking the cars all over, checking up equipment and motor tests. I was first put on as aide to a Minneapolis boy by the name of Fred Wheeler but was shifted yesterday to car #153405 as driver with a young boy from New York as my aide. He is a very nice young chap just out of High School.

I call him Johnnie so that when I speak of Johnnie you will know who I mean. It seems too bad that such a youngster should be allowed to come over here at this time. Yesterday when I learned that I was to be shifted to driver I asked to be put on his car in hopes that I may be of some help to him. He is willing and physically strong and I think we will get along well together.

As to my needs over here. I am completely equipped now. The French Govt. have been very liberal in their donations so far and we are fixed up beyond complaint for the present. We have had two heavy winter overcoats issued us. You would laugh if you could see us all togged out in our sheep-skins, steel helmets, gas masks and goggles. We look like a bunch of ghosts. I don’t expect there will be much need for either the helmets or masks although the former are very convenient in rainy weather.

I wish I could tell you more about conditions over here but every piece of our mail is censored and we are requested to say nothing regarding conditions. The food is good and sufficient but I do long for some American dishes. Much of our amusement consists of descriptions of delicious dishes we once had in the States. “How would you like,” etc., etc.?

Now I must quit and go to mess. This has been a very messie Sunday, everything considered.

Am well and happy. One month of my time is up. Thank you for the letter, Sis, and do it again when you have time.

Wishing you all kinds of enjoyment on your summer plans, I am, as ever

Yours with love,

Grant.