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.
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