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.