Estimated American troops in France now total between 400,000 and 500,000

Thursday, January 17, 1918:

Another trip has been made by our section to Bar-le-Duc leaving with cars from here Saturday January 12, but I begged off on grounds of no gloves and with five others spent a very pleasant vacation in these barracks. The weather was delightful so that the boys were able to return Monday night. They reported the most successful convoy yet and all seemed to be in good spirits, only bringing back two malades--stomach trouble.

The most excitement this place has seen for some time took place yesterday when 300 new Allentown men marched in on us. They just arrived from the States landing, direct route, at Brest. About 25,000 troops came over in their convoy and they report that the Vaterland [S.S. Leviathan] arrived safely the week before with 12,500 on board depositing her cargo in England. Things are picking up. It is estimated that American troops in France must now total between 400,000 and 500,000 in number.

This new crowd are almost unanimously “Kites” and, of course, most green. They are much awed with the trenches around here and the guns in an artillery school in Chantilly almost created a havoc. They are all casuals and have wild ideas that they are going out soon.

Censored

During his time in France, many of Grant's letters to the United States were subject to military censorship. He sometimes got around this by giving letters to Miss Emma Mullen to mail from Paris directly.

The letter below is an example of one that was censored before it reached his family in Minnesota. He even censored his own writing by using only first initials when recounting a tale about his comrades.

Grant had good reason to mind what he wrote in letters. His fellow Norton-Harjes volunteers, William Slater Brown and E. E. Cummings, were jailed in September 1917 on suspicion of espionage based on what French censors had read in some of Brown's letters. Cummings used the experience for the basis of his autobiographical novel, The Enormous Room, published in 1922. In an interesting coincidence Cummings only refers to Brown as B____ in the book.

January 14, 1918

Dear Family:-

Like the polar bears, this camp seems to be waking from a long winter period of somnambulism. This rejuvenation has ooooozed into our very spirits just as this French mud oooozes through our waterproof army shoes.

(1) We haven’t had snow or rain for two days and we have actually caught sight of the sun for awhile each of these two days andIt’s pretty hard to pick out a cause. There seem to be two more likely causes.

(2) “for every action there is an equal and contrary reaction.”

The power of resignation in us mortals seems to be asserting itself and such remarks as these are frequently heard. “There must be worse places in France than S__________” or “Try to imagine yourself in the trenches during this weather and be thankful for that nice fire you are sitting beside.” Yes, though well nigh half of our time in France has already been spent right here in this camp we could fare far worse, so why complain?

There is very little of what I would like to say that would seep through to you so you will have to be content, for the time being, with the more commonplace. The camp is very small now-–like one big happy family. Food has improved, details have diminished and the sun has shone. The evenings are spent around one stove in the middle of the barracks solving many such trivial problems as the termination of this little contest between Fritz and the rest of the world. Sometimes the answer is, “as soon as Uncle Sam gets into the trenches;” sometimes it is, “this coming February because the Bible says so;” other times it is “30 years more.” Whereupon countless pictures are painted of the various men in our section 30 years from now in an old soldiers’ home somewhere.

The idiosyncrasies of men in and about camp are very fertile bases for many of our evening talks. You would think yourself in a ladies sewing-bee at times. For instance: since we have been here in camp there has been in our midst a young glutton whom I’m sure could have eaten Ben Johnson under the table. Many futile attempts had been made to discourage this “cuckoo” on his way toward starving the American army in France by consuming all the grub himself but it only served to whet his desire to be a camp hero. Until one fine day there appeared in camp a youngster whose age lacked two years of being a score but whose age was in no way indicative of his capacity. This chap almost starved to death until one week they tried him out on K.P. (Kitchen Police) and it was there that we “learned about eating from him.” His first breakfast consisted of twenty-four pieces of toast and eight bowls of milk and the look of surprise that came into his face when someone called his attention to it was basis enough for a very heated discourse on the art of gormandizing, that night around the fire. The congregation seemed to be split in sentiment some maintaining that S___, who had long before been unanimously awarded the “brown-derby” could still hold good his reputation and the remainder contending that H___ would still be eating when S___ had passed out. The meeting grew quite boisterous until H___ himself entered, having sat one hour and a half longer at the table than we had. “H___,” exclaimed one of the debaters, “do you think you can out-eat S___?” “Who me?” quoth the youth, “Why, I would eat him under with one hand tied behind my back – broad – bladed knives and shovels barred.” Whereupon there arose a challenge from the S___ supporters and the contest was arranged. Arrangements were put into the hands of a grub committee, entrance tickets sold for 50 centimes a piece and all bets were covered. It was the most evenly divided contest I have ever known. On Saturday morning of the contest the camp found a notice on the bulletin board which read something like this: [censored] in France [censored] are slowly [censored] gormandizing or unnecessary consumption of food in this camp will be looked upon with disfavor by its officers” – signed by one of the camp majors. This put an end to the contest but not to the discussion. It still goes on. The boys had trained for it, H___ still maintaining that he could [censored] in the [censored] I never [censored]. Put a little gravy on a piece of board and he would eat it and pass up his plate for more. Doesn’t it all remind you of a ladies sewing circle?

But now I must leave you. I am going down to a near-by village and eat in style this evening. We shall probably have an omelet and French-fried potatoes both of which this lady makes to perfection. And we sit down to a table and are waited on.

Hope your not too cold and suffering from lack of coal.

Much love – Grant.

P.S.:- You’ve asked me so many times if there wasn’t something you could send me. At last I’ve thought of something – three or four tubes of Kolynos tooth paste and the same number of Williams shaving cream tubes, each tube costing 25¢, when I left the States. Also, if you can find them without going to too much expense, -- a pair of warm leather driving gloves or gauntlets. Fingers are necessary and gauntlets are preferable because they prevent the wind from mounting your arm. These are all nonperishable goods and I’m sure will reach me eventually addressed to:

Pvt. Grant R. Willard

Convois Automobiles,

S.S.U. 647

Par B.C.M.

Paris, France.

This is the latest and best address.

Much love,

Grant.

Talk of your cold! Through the parka’s fold it stabbed like a driven nail.

The winter of 1917-18 was one of the coldest in the 20th century. There are references to the cold winds and heavy snows that blanketed the trenches in various WWI memoirs. Encamped in the old stone farmhouse on the Sandricourt estate, Grant Willard and the rest of the ambulance men endured the cold but at least would not have to worry about gun or shell fire until the spring.

Sunday, January 13, 1918:

Three weeks ago when I started to write in this book while in bed I was prevented by the cold. There was a good fire going in a stove at the foot of my bed, but it is impossible to heat the air at a greater radius than 3 ft. and then it passes out a hole in the roof.

They say that “history repeats itself.” A good deal of history has been repeated right here in this place and most of it seems like ancient history to us. There seems to be no more purpose and forethought to this camp than before. We are still doing the same odd jobs, talking about the same things and cursing our fate -- what fools we humans are!

Christmas was a dull day here. There was supposed to be no details, but the worst of them had to go on of course. There was the sanitary detail, guard and kitchen detail. I was assigned to K.P. to help give the boys as merry a Christmas as possible. There was nothing during the day which would mark it in any way from any other day and as I look back on it now it hardly seems possible that Christmas has come and gone. In the evening there was a stupid entertainment in the YMCA and afterward presents were passed out to every man in camp. There were the various individual gifts to the YMCA from the States to the men each with the name and address of the donor enclosed. Mine was from a Miss Clara N. Bartlett, 57 Baldwin St., Charlestown, Mass. Then the Red Cross gave little bags or comfort kits to all army men. These contained handkerchiefs, tooth brushes, tooth paste, smoking tobacco, candy, gum etc. and were very practical indeed and the boys were very grateful for them. The YMCA gifts were nice, but contained such a silly lot of trash such as toys, puzzles and rank chewing tobacco.

The Saint-Nazaire trip was miserable. Saint-Nazaire being on the coast gets the benefit (?) of the ocean breezes only instead of there being breezes during our stay there they had become heavy winds combined with rain, sleet and snow. We were there but one day during which time we all got thoroughly chilled a

nd soaked. We slept in barracks with no stoves. I was never so cold in my life, but was somewhat cheered up when I found that I drew a staff car to drive instead of one of the trucks. There were about eight staff cars, eight trucks had no shelter except one isinglass curtain while the other cars could be entirely closed in.

On Tuesday, December 17, we left Saint-Nazaire headed for Sandricourt, but instead of driving a nice staff car I was shivering in a light truck. Little Keever wasn’t feeling well so we traded cars. Thanks to my fur coat I came through without freezing anything. We spent our first night at Angers and the second night at Chartres. The cathedral at Chartres is supposed to be very wonderful, but we pulled in in the dark and left before we were entirely awake the next morning so we didn’t even see the cathedral. Sandricourt never looked so good before. All the cars came through whole with one exception and that was when Harris skidded into a tree and bent his rear-X (not his’n but the car’s, I mean).

On Wednesday, the day after Christmas, we took 24 ambulances up to Bar-le-Duc--that is we started to take them. Because there had been so much trouble on previous convoys with meals and sleeping quarters Major Chaudron was sent along with us. The ambulances were newly equipped American Field Service Fords. Its the neatest equipment I have seen on any ambulances in France. The bodies are wood instead of papier-mâché; The tool equipment is most complete; the driving seat is much more comfortable than those of the American Army issue. [The trip] will pass down as one of the worst trips Section 647 ever took. The weather couldn’t have been worse. The roads were slippery and the snow flew with a swift, cold wind right into our faces making it impossible to drive into at times. We made la Ferté-Gaucher for the first night. It was a shame that the weather was so poor because we passed through territory which really marked the battle of the Marne in ’14. We skirted Coulommiers which marks pretty closely the center of General Foch’s attack upon the advancing Boche and resulted in his outflanking them and forcing the whole German right wing to beat a hasty retreat from, you might say, the gates of Paris. The French corporal led the convoy and made most of his stops in villages thus giving us a chance to run into cafés for coffee. In these places we heard many interesting stories of the retreat at first hand.

Thursday broke cold, but clear not snowing until the afternoon. ’Twas a very interesting day. The roads were sheer ice and many was the car that turned around on the road while trying to stop. Just out of Sézanne, Pop Carry skidded into a curb and broke a rear wheel. A little further on Fraser skidded off the road and turned over. Fortunately he escaped without a scratch. The Boche retreat in this sector was so rapid and their stay so short that everything was left without much devastation. The graves in this district line the roads, the more elaborate French crosses contrasted with the plain Boche crosses. We spent the night comfortably in a school house at St. Dizier where I stood guard from 2:30 to 4:30 A.M. “Talk of your cold! Through the parka’s fold it stabbed like a driven nail.” [This is a line from "The Cremation Of Sam McGee" by Robert Service.] From St. Dizier it was but a short run into Bar-le-Duc. Poor old Bar-le-Duc is a different place today than it was last September. Boche planes have

completely demolished certain sections of the city. Inhabitants are scarcer than ever before. They told us that the place hadn’t been bombed for three months and already the people were beginning to move back to the city. They are deathly afraid of bombs in Bar and one certainly can’t blame them.

We took the 5:50 train for Paris arriving there shortly after 10 P.M. Went right to bed very tired and I personally suffering from indigestion. We were given the day in Paris. Johnny and I called on Miss Mullen in her new quarters--Hotel Brighton. Returned to Sandricourt on the 7:10 very tired and glad to be back in our more or less comfortable barracks.