I awoke suddenly as I unconsciously swept a rat off the head of my stretcher with my hand.

It is interesting to note the contrast between what Grant wrote home this day in 1917 and that which he wrote for himself in his journal.

France - Tuesday – Sept. 18, 1917

Dear People:-

The day after I wrote my last letter to you wishing for mail from you it came in a bunch. I received a letter from Mother, one from Dad enclosing 300 francs, one from Mrs. Patterson, a couple of papers one of which contained a copy of that very interesting letter from Jim Baker to his mother, and several [Saturday Evening] Posts from Beatrice and one American Mag. for September. All of this on Sept. 15 a rainy, cold disagreeable day back in Laheycourt. I put in a full day on my cot just reading. I don’t know that I can reply accurately to your questions and requests because we have moved since I received them and the letters are not yet unpacked but I shall endeavor to clear up a few points which are clearest in my mind. In the first place I was very glad that Dad found time to write me the long letter which accompanied the draft. All mail is greatly appreciated and particularly that from

home but Dad emphasized a few things for which I was very thankful.

It is pretty hard to write letters when there is so much going on and so many things to think of without overlooking some of the points in which an outsider would be most interested. Other details cannot be written in letters but must wait until after I am back and can read them to you out of my daily personal account. Even this account cannot be too accurate because in our rush periods it goes for three or four days and some times a week without attention and many of the smaller details of interest are overlooked. I’m sorry I overlooked telling you that Section 61 of the American Red Cross Ambulance in France is made up of 42 of the finest men and boys in the world. We range anywhere from 17 to 36 in ages. Everyone of us who have our high-school diplomas are college men. There are two in the section who are not yet through high-school. My aide, Johnny Taylor, is one of them. Sherer of Buffalo is another. Our chief is a Harvard man ‘09. Our second chief or “Sous Chef” is also a Harvard man. The men themselves hail from all over – Dartmouth, Williams, Exeter, Wesleyan, Amherst, U of M, Yale, Hobart, Cornell, Morningside College, U of Cal., U of Penn., and Columbia. Mostly eastern colleges, you see. It has been interesting to question the various men as to their reasons for coming over here. Some came because they got their college credits without taking examinations; some came because they got their way paid for them but the majority came for adventure. I think, with possibly one exception, every man in the section came from a very fine family and have left many dear friends in America. This one exception is an East Side New Yorker who has spent most of his time in military service with a family who didn’t care much for him. He, Shorty Prior by name, was in Mexico last fall and this spring when he was released to attend his mother’s funeral and was mustered out before he returned to Mexico, he got so lonesome in New York that he had to get into something immediately. His experience makes him a popular man with the fellows. We get along splendidly together. There were about four men in the outfit who didn’t seem to fit in very well – one from a very nice and prominent family in Harrisburg, Pa. who went to pieces soon after he landed here. He and another ne’er-do-well deserted us and the other two were formally dismissed. Now we are a happy family together. We have a great deal of music in the crowd and much time is passed in close harmony. We have a deaf man from California who plays the accordion by ear. He really is very good though and proved a valuable asset under shell fire. I expect he will receive a Croix de Guerre for fearless work while shells were bursting all around.

Just got word that I go out to the front tonight so I must quit now and get ready. I have no aide because Johnny is away on permission [leave] but I have the option of selection whom I want from the 1st ten cars. I am going to try to take Ralph Jacob from Brooklyn. I will finish this letter up at the post tonight.

Thursday – Sept. 20 –

“Tonight” came and went without an opportunity of completing this manuscript. Too busy? No, upon arriving at our first post we, Ralph and I, were sent on to another post with a load of “eats.” When we got there about 8:30 we were told to spend the night there. We were put in a log abri with no lights because Boche aviators were flying overhead. So you see it was quite impossible to do anything but go to bed. I didn’t want to get to bed so early for I know I couldn’t sleep but there seemed to be no choice. So Jake made his bed on the second tier of stretchers and I made mine on the bottom tier under a Frenchman who snored. It was 12:30 before I closed my eyes and then only for an hour. I awoke suddenly as I unconsciously swept a rat off the head of my stretcher with my hand. The remainder of the night was spent in fitful sleep for me. The long-tailed pests were staging some kind of a party for my benefit and they seemed to insist that I stay awake to enjoy it with them. I was up at 6 this morning and after waking Jake out of a sound sleep we found two slightly wounded cases waiting for us. They gave us a cup of hot coffee a piece and started us on our way. After some search we found our hospital and are now back at the post waiting for further orders.

The work here is bliss beside that at Verdun. We drive on excellent roads sheltered on either side in most places by a heavy growth of trees and underbrush. The fighting is very light in this sector so that two cars on 24 hour shifts can easily take care of the wounded. The whole division with whom we worked at Verdun are now in this sector so we come in contact with many familiar faces.

Now I must leave and go to dinner. I might just as well finish this letter here because this is the last piece of paper I have with me.

You asked me what kind of fellows we had in this section. Have I answered it to your satisfaction? I think I have said enough in previous letters to give you an idea of our daily routine.

Am well but anxious to be home for awhile. No new developments for future service.

With love,

Grant.

Same address as per usual.

* * * * *

Tuesday, September 18:

Beautiful day. Worked on my car all A.M. and spent the afternoon catching up on writing. This surely is a beautiful spot. We are nestled down in between hills, heavily wooded and green. Our cars are parked in what used to be a furniture factory belonging to a very rich man. His estate is adjoining the factory and is all enclosed in a big stone wall. The buildings were once very swell. I went into one of them. There were big mirrors on the lavishly colored, papered walls and a big opened fireplace held a prominent part in every room. It is now being used as an officers’ headquarters. The barns are magnificent. A stream which ran thru the estate has been dammed up so as to make a beautiful little lake big enough to float canoes and row boats. Now, of course, the place is run down, but there is enough left to make a very beautiful picture for the imagination. Beyond the estate is a park now wired off into pastures for horses. A railroad has also been cut through the park and a corner of the estate so as to mar even what beauty there was left.