Dad, listen: I’ve certainly gotten myself into a bad hole.

Sailing to France in 1917, Grant Willard was desperately in love with Dorothy Houghton, and had asked her to marry him. Through a romantic haze he imagined a situation where his love would come to France, work with a war relief organization and be near him. But the more he lived through the war and saw its effects, the more he realized he'd made a terrible mistake encouraging her to come. He'd sent mixed signals to his fiancée and angered her mother. At a low point, he poured his heart out to his father back in Minnesota...

Convois Autos.,

S.S.U. 647,

Par B.C.M.,

France.

Tuesday, April 30, 1918

Dear Dad:-

Your letter dated Mar. 31 reach me today together with 14 others--the first I had received for more than a month.  You see we have been on the move for sometime now I rather imagine it’s a puzzle for the Post Office to follow us. 

You see I am sending this letter through the base censor--a route I just discovered the other day. Through this channel we can send things of personal nature (nothing military) which we wouldn’t care to send through our own Lieutenant. It’s rather unfortunate that your own Lieutenant censors your mail. A man who isn’t quite right will read every bit of your letter with interest and jot down in his memory a few things which don’t concern him. That is why my recent letters have been so monotonous and scattered. When one’s letters are read aloud to the office force and used to furnish amusement for whomever might be present one doesn’t care about sending anymore letters than he has to. Please accept this reason for my long period of silence temporarily until I can explain the whole miserable situation to you.

Now, Dad, listen: I’ve certainly gotten myself into a bad hole. You remember back in December when I was so stuck on Dorothy’s coming over here in some War Relief capacity? Well, I did want her then because the future did look bright for a while and I believed every word I wrote you in response to your advice to drop the matter. I wanted her then, do now and always will but as to her actually coming to France I have turned a right-about face and am just as stuck in the other direction. 

Grant (second from right) with his parents
and siblings after the war in Mankato.

What has changed my mind? A combination of several things. In the first place I wanted her in France because it never dawned on me that I could possibly have her. I never really visualized her in France. And when her letters came telling of various plans and threats I laughed at them. I didn’t take them seriously. Then like a thunder clap it all came on me. Miss Mullen’s horrible death on Good Friday gave me an awful jolt from which I haven’t quite recovered. Then came a letter from Mrs. Houghton which cut my soul in two and laid it on the table in front of me where I saw it all. A brute! That’s just what I’ve been. A perfect stranger, so to speak, tried to enter Mrs. Houghton’s home and heart and rob it of just about its most precious gem without even consulting her. Of course she didn’t like it. She knew Dorothy much better than I did and yet I, in my thoughtless excitement, forgot all about her. Result:- a mess and I’m on the bottom. 

I don’t want Dorothy in France in this horrible mess over here. I don’t want anybody dear to me to come over here now. Being with the Americans has made a big change in me. I can’t get over the queer feeling which came over me on seeing my first dead American soldier and on hearing of Miss Mullen’s death. We’ve got to win this war and we are going to but we can do it without Dorothy or you or mother or Sis on this side. It’s a different proposition with Tib and John. When their times come it is their duty to come but France is not a place for women in these days nor those people who can be of more service in the States. 

I have written Dorothy a long letter trying to convince her that I am right in changing my mind and that her duty is to do what her mother wishes. I have written Mrs. Houghton but what could I say to her? I was wrong and am to blame. I told her that much but some way couldn't find much else to say. I’m anxious, very anxious as to what Dorothy’s going to do. It wouldn’t be right for her to come, Dad, nor to prepare to come against her mother’s wishes and I’ve got to put an end to it. Will you please show this letter to Marion and ask her to please use her influence with Dorothy in any way she judges best? I’m telling you these things that you might understand just how things stand between us and in hopes that you may be able to shed a little light my way, though I guess this is entirely my battle. 

The last letter from Dot, says she is announcing our engagement in some Vassar publication and that her mother is doing the same in the Philadelphia papers. I certainly hope this will make Dot happier. I’m tickled to death. You know, I don’t like this formal stuff--announcement parties, teas, ring and things. I hope it will satisfy poor, little heart-sick Dot. 

Dad, I’m more than thankful for the money. I really don’t need it as I have managed to hang on to 200 francs from my salary looking toward a permission (long over-do) but that 100 will give me that much better permission. Don’t know where I’ll go. To the mountains if I can get there. You see, when we are paid regularly we really fair pretty well. It is reported that we will be drawing “wagoners” pay soon (40.20) and then we are now to get two dollars extra due to a recent citation. That’s pretty snappy pay when you are off where you can’t spend any. 

About the picture--I left a film in Paris to have more prints made that I might send you one but I never got back in there to get them and we are not allowed to send pictures of any kind under this organization--neither are we allowed to take any. Never mind, I have a whole collection which will be yours (to look at) someday. I took a lot of them and hope they are never lost. 

Much love from – Your war-tired son.

THEN CAME THE ODOR OF GAS--MUSTARD GAS

On April 15, 1918, SSU 647 moved from its base at Neufchâteau to a new post thirty miles to the north near Vignot and was assigned to the American 26th Infantry Division. The famous "Yankee Division" was deployed just to the south of the front near the St. Mihiel Salient and became one of the first American units attacked by the Germans in WWI.

On April 20, German artillery bombarded the 102nd Infantry's positions near Seicheprey before German stormtroopers moved against the village. The barrage, continuing 36 hours, isolated American units. The Germans overwhelmed a machine gun company and two infantry companies of the 102nd and temporarily breached the trenches before elements of the division rallied and recaptured the village. The Germans withdrew before the division could counterattack but inflicted 634 casualties, including 80 killed, 424 wounded, and 130 captured, while losing over 600 men, including 150 killed of their own.

Grant and SSU 647 were in the thick of it. For the first time they experienced one of the most vicious aspects of WWI: gas warfare. Not only did they care for gas causalities, they became gas causalities themselves.

This entry is one of the most exciting of the entire diary.

Thursday, April 25, 1918:

Well! A week and a day since I last had a chance to write in this book. More things have happened in that time than in any week of my young life. In brief, it has included an attack by Germans and Americans through our most advanced post and back again to original positions; action for 48 hours under terrific artillery fire; finally, after 5 hours in a gas mask, to be taken out with seven others and sent back to a hospital as mustard gas patients and then convalescences. I am now in the latter state in our quarters at Vignot. We are all out of the hospital and ready for more action.

Mandres-aux-Quatre-Tours

Detail--Was ready for action by noon of Apr. 18. McCrackin and I reached Mandres[-aux-Quatre-Tours] about 5 P.M. each with an aide or orderly, as they are called in the American Army, from the 102 Ambulance Company with whom we are now working. Everything was quiet. We lived in a room on the second floor of a house equipped with electric lights, stoves and some unbroken windows. There were six of us in our room--Kendrick, Risley, McCrackin, Dunlap, Gaynor and self--and two orderlies in the front room.

After writing a letter to Sis, I retired and soon everything was quiet with sleep. Sat up suddenly in pitch blackness with the most deafening noise outside I had every heard.

Dunlap was next up with, “What the hell!”

This sign in Mandres reads:
Remember your American comrades
fallen in the region for France and for humanity.
1918.

Then Kendrick jumped up. “Come on let’s get out of here!” “The cellar! The cellar!” “Don’t forget your gas masks!”

We all cleared out but Speed. As we were going down the stairs we were sprinkled with tile and pieces of roof. Wow! We made some time into that cellar. It was an ordinary cellar approached through a trap door in the floor of a ground floor room above. The five of us pretty well filled the place. A few minutes was spent in laughing at each other’s various costumes. Jack Kendrick was the funniest. He hadn’t planned on being turned out in a hurry when he went to bed so he had stripped. When I flashed my light on him in the cellar he sat on the steps -- hip boots turned down at the knee then a space of nothing up to a sheepskin coat. The poor kid was freezing.

Photo by Grant Willard taken somewhere around Beaumont.

Then came the odor of gas--mustard gas. A rat came running out of a hole and died in the middle of the floor before our eyes. Oh no! We weren’t very scared! Into our English masks we climbed. We sat in silence. One can’t converse from behind--or rather underneath--such a mask. It was then 3 A.M. Friday, Apr. 19. We sat in the cellar until the gas got too bad even for masks and went to the floor above hovering around the hole ready to drop if a shell hit the house. Wow! What a racket! One 77 landed just outside our door spattering us with all kinds of debris.

We decided to climb higher and get out of that dreadful gas, if possible. Back in our room we covered the window which had remained intact and stuffed up the cracks in our doors and built a fire to draw the fumes out of the room as much as possible. Then we took off our masks keeping our noses and mouths covered that no stray gas might get into our lungs. That was a great relief. We found there was very little gas in the room--just enough to make you weep a little.

Mandres in 2010

At 7:30 we slipped back into our masks and went over to the dressing station to see what the damages amounted to. The racket had died down considerably. A shell had pierced the roof of our house lodging in the hay directly over the room in which we had stayed. It was a mean looking hole--mustard gas we discovered later with our masks off. Everybody was white and scared into inaction at the dressing station. Kendrick put life into them by ordering us to get our cars out in front and ready for action. Mine looked like the top of a pepper box where pieces of debris had pierced it.

All communications had been cut. Wounded had walked in bringing bits of news. The Boche had taken Seicheprey, but the Americans were counter-attacking. Cars were wanted at Beaumont (1 km from Seicheprey) and at the various batteries around Battery 419 just off to the right of “dead man’s curve” and 436 in “devil’s half-acre” were the favorites.

I went out to 419 and oh, what a mess. The Boche had registered two direct hits leaving but one gun in action. Out of the three crews there remained but one. The captain had been killed and we carried the 1st lieutenant back unconscious leaving the battery in charge of a 2nd lieutenant with a broken arm. He was one of the pluckiest men I ever saw. He refused to leave the gun long enough to get his arm properly tended to. Just before we left he said, “For God’s sake tell them to send me some fuses. I haven’t got a fuse left.”

The sight of so many American dead gave me an awfully weak feeling--impossible to suppress some emotion.

Back at Mandres reports were coming in thick and fast. The Germans had been forced out of Seicheprey to their original lines. American reserves were swarming through town on their way up. Losses had already been heavy for the Americans, but the boys swore they had “given’em hell.” Our batteries now held full sway until the reserves filled the valley over back of Beaumont when the Boche again cut loose and raised havoc with the boys. From then on everything is more or less indistinct. My orderly and I made numerous trips to Ménil-la-Tour from batteries Beaumont and Mandres until about 5 P.M.

Our last trip down from Mandres took us through the fumes of a fruit gas shell which broke ahead of us right in the middle of the road. We were making pretty good time so it didn’t get us badly except in mind. My orderly, McDonald, a very plucky boy, got sick to his stomach and when we got in to the hospital we were ordered to stay in for the night. Boatman took my car and Mac and I went to bed pretty sick to our stomachs with eyes smarting and blood-shot.

That night Kendrick went to the hospital with mustard gas; McGuire had his car shot out from under him between Beaumont and Seicheprey, he and his aide miraculously escaping injury; Harris smashed a rear wheel on his car; № 13 ran into a camion putting it out of business. The 102nd lost two cars and two men by direct hits. Mandres was evacuated and all cars recalled from Seicheprey.

Many thrilling stories were told. About noon our lieutenant who hadn’t been near the scene of action all this time, sent word from Ménil-la-Tour that [we] were to return immediately to Ménil and from there to Vignot. Sunday and Monday were spent between sheets in the 104th Field Hospital where we received gas treatment and liquid diet. On Tuesday Swain, McEnnis and I were released. We were glad of the rest, but the liquid diet almost killed us because we hadn’t eaten very much on the two preceding days. Our day hospital sergeant was an ex-movie actor who was drafted. His assistant was a mechanic in Chicago. The night Sergeant was a bar tender in New York before being drafted so one can imagine what kind of care we had when the doctors were not around. They did the best they knew how. Since then we have been leading a life deluxe here in our Vignot quarters. Risley is the only man who hasn’t fully recovered, except Kendrick of course. Risley seems to have gotten some on his lungs and his eyes give him some trouble. Kendrick got some of the mustard gas on the exposed portions of his body Saturday morning and he is still suffering some though he is out of the hospital.

We have had two more smash ups in the section since we left Mandres. Kerr slid off Dead Man’s curve with 5 wounded and smashed a rear wheel. All came out alive. Lafleur tipped over while trying to pass a staff car out near here smashing a rear wheel and throwing the whole front end out of line. No lives lost. We now realize how lucky we are all round.

We are out where the ground is well plowed and the hardware flying thick and fast.

On April 15, 1918, SSU 647 moved from the relative safety of its base at Neufchâteau to a new post at Vignot and was assigned to the 26th Infantry Division of the United States Army. After a few days in camp, he wrote home to Mankato.

Convois Autos.,

S.S.U. 647,

Par B.C.M.,

France.

Friday, Apr. 19, 1918

My dear family:-

Sometime ago (7 days) I started a letter to you all. While in the midst of it an order came in for movement within 24 hours. Wow, such a racket as was set up! Needless to say that letter was postponed. Not until today have I had a chance to continue and now only to begin over again as I left my own writing paper with the uncompleted letter back at our base.

We are no longer at Base #66 but out where the ground is well plowed and the hardware flying thick and fast. Gee! But it seems good to be back where you can “hear ‘em” again. We are not far from where we were in September – quiet compared to August but loud enough.

The section has been separated – ten cars are here in this sector, five in another sector and five idle. We have been up here five days, quite busy, and expect relief soon. Hap is with us. Astlett, another old 61 man, is also here. Johnnie and Fraser the other two 61ers are elsewhere – Johnnie is driving the staff car for the Lieut.

The announcement of Miss Mullen’s death on Good Friday knocked me cold and I haven’t quite recovered yet. She was like a mother to many of us and we will miss her more than I can tell. She was always working for others’ interests than her own and sacrifice on her part was a pleasure for her. She’s a great loss to us as well as to the work she was doing.

I am awfully glad that Mother and Tib got off to California all right. She needed the rest and the change ought to be good for Tib. A letter from her from Ontario [California] said they were enjoying their stay very much. She spoke of violets and roses in bloom. Even gorgeous France can’t boast of roses in this section but violets are plentiful. The woods are full of little white flowers, corresponding to our May flowers and the lilacs are beginning to bloom.

SSU 647 on the move

Was sitting in my car yesterday enjoying the first sunshine we had seen for weeks when a big, husky, burly American soldier passed down the street. He looked like someone I had seen before and sure enough when I called “Boots” he turned around and there stood “Boots” Wiederman in all his glory. The first man I have met over here from home. He was as surprised as I was. He is stationed with the engineers just a short way from our base and last night we had a long talk. Boots has been over just a month and so has met none of the other boys from home. I expect to run on to them most any day. Most of the boys we are working with around here are from the east and I haven’t met anybody I know yet.

Haven’t heard from you all now for about a month. Not a letter. But I know everything is all right at home as it is with us over here. The Saturday Evening Post has long since stopped coming as has the Literary Digest. The mails are probably very congested. Would suggest that you use my French address in your correspondence, as there is less congestion that way.

Hope mail begins coming in soon.

Much love,

Grant.

Our boys got one call last night and that was indigestion.

In his April 17, 1918, journal entry, Grant writes judgmentally of his comrades' excessive drinking, calling it "cuffing the bottle." He probably came by this attitude naturally. His dad, W.D. Willard, was a lifelong teetotaler, having grown up with an alcoholic father.

Tuesday, April 16, 1918:

Vignot, France, 2010

Yesterday, Apr. 15, we moved to Vignot to be attached to the 26th Division. A funny thing happened when we got [here] expecting some kind of a reception in the way of an officer to tell us where to go and what to do. Headquarters didn’t even know who we were nor did they know we were coming. How’s that for efficiency? Now in the French Army, never did such a thing happen. Our trip from Dijon to Rupt, for instance, we were a day early on arriving at Rupt having made the trip down in one instead of two days. But everything was ready for us.

War memorial in Vignot

At Vignot our Lieut. offered his services to the 26th whenever they would have us. With Colonel Starks’ permission we were allowed to stay and do what work we could find until further orders. Ten cars were sent on to Ménil-la-Tour and the remaining cars stayed in Vignot. I was one of the ten lucky ones and I am now writing in the loft of a fragrant barn where we spent the night on hay. Four cars: Happy, Astlett, McGuire and McEnnis went up to the posts last night about 10 o’clock with Sarg. Kendrick. Swain, Dunlap, McCrackin, Gaynor, Risley (mechanic), Signer and I stayed here “on call.” I was unlucky coming up. Broke a truss-rod or I would have gone up in place of Hap. The boys around here seemed glad to see us--especially the ambulance boys--who filled us full of wild tales about what a hard time they were having and how many cars they had lost, etc. Imagine it! Here we are 7 km from the line in a town which has never been bombarded and only occasionally hearing a gun and then these boys springing tales about “dead-man’s corner,” and “hell’s-half acre.” Our boys got one call last night and that was indigestion.

Wednesday, April 17:

Things are as quiet as usual. We could hear what the Americans call a heavy barrage last night. The boys up at the posts report no excitement and nothing to do. Signor, McCrackin and I are here alone now in our loft. The rest of the cars are up on posts. Sarg. Kendrick was just down and told me my truss rod would be up tomorrow and that I will relieve McEnnis as soon as I am fixed up. Signor and McCrackin will probably go up tomorrow. None of the boys have carried any wounded except Speed who just brought down a Frenchman who had a piece of éclat in his shoulder from a 77 which broke just outside of the Mandres[-aux-Quatre-Tours] dressing station. There are a good many 77s breaking around this post. Our boys are the only ones in the town who are sleeping above ground and the people think they are crazy. They have a very good room there with a stove and table and they aren’t “going down” until they have to. Hap scared the pants off an Am. sergeant this A.M. by driving through the smoke of a 77 which landed in the middle of the road about 100 yds. in front of them. They can’t make us out up here. They think we are crazy, I guess, and perhaps they are right. But they haven’t been through the period of idleness which we have.

Five more of our cars have left Vignot for another front. Fraser, Snader, Kerr, Luys and Stender. “M. Richard” and Tod Gillet I imagine are very glum these days. Maybe it will teach them a lesson. I wonder if they are still “cuffing the bottle.” Johnnie was up with the Lieut. yesterday and is not very well satisfied with his lot at staff car driver. He had rather be up in it.

Have had no news from western front and no mail for two weeks from the States.

Faces of Emma Mullen

For years I have been searching for a photo of Emma G. Mullen, and now thanks to the wonders of the Internet (and help from an old friend) I've located two images of Mullen from her passport applications. The lighter one, at left, is from a 1914 emergency passport application. The other is from 1916.

The photos from nearly a century ago show a face that is full of character. Her smile is a bit lopsided, but her eyes sparkle with interest. She would have been an interesting person to know.

Friday, April 12, 1918:

Miss Mullen’s death was confirmed in last night’s Herald in the following notice: “On March 29, victim of bombardment on Good Friday, Emma G. Mullen. Funeral service will be held at the American Church, 21 rue de Berri, on Friday, Apr. 12, at 11 A.M.”

Why, why did I ever get into this organization?

Among those killed in the bombardment of the St-Gervais-et-St-Protais Church on March 29 were a prominent New York woman and her two daughters: Mary G. Landon, wife of Edward H. Landon, Lucy Landon Speed and Ruth Landon. Mrs. Landon was the niece of Levi P. Morton, Vice President of the United States (1893-97) and governor of New York (1895-96).

Sunday, April 7, 1918:

The front remains about the same, according to last night’s Herald and Mail. The Boche seem still to be possessed with splitting the armies by taking Amiens and cutting the railroad to Paris. Reserves are being rushed up by the allied armies and General Foch said in last night’s paper that the German advance had been definitely stopped. Nothing said about the bombardment of Paris. Have been watching the Mail for a confirmation of Miss Mullen’s death, but they haven’t mentioned it. The Landons', New York mother and two daughters, funeral has been played up considerably.

There is no news around here. The movement of troops seems to have slackened although the Est [the Eastern Railroad] is still busy carrying French troops westward.

The rumors about our being taken out of here have died. I guess we are doomed to spend the remainder of the war right here pining away for a chance to get into the big push. Why, why did I ever get into this organization?

We have evacuated Camp Hospital No. 1 at Gondrecourt[-le-Château] which has moved to Amiens. We hoped to go with them, but were disappointed. We have unloaded three hospital trains at Bazoilles[-sur-Meuse] Base Hospital No. 18--two filled with wounded and sick from Nancy and the third for 206 gas patients just down from the front. They were the sorriest, saddest specimens I have ever seen. Few of them could see and many were sick to their stomachs. They had been in a severe gas (tear gas) attack near Nancy which lasted for about 24 hours.

The shock of his young life

As Grant Willard glanced at the papers 100 years ago, he would have read much about the huge German offensive that had begun on March 21, and the continued German bombardment of Paris. And then he got the shock of his young life: his eyes fell on an article about the Good Friday tragedy and the death of Emma Mullen. Suddenly he was filled with rage and sorrow and desire for vengeance. He poured out his feelings in his journal:

Friday, April 5, 1918:

Last night’s Herald contained the following article:

Emma Mullen

“Miss Emma G. Mullen, an American resident of Paris, was identified yesterday as one of those killed on Good Friday in the church which was struck by a shell from the German long-range gun. She had been missing from the Hotel Brighton since Friday, and as the hotel had communicated with her friends and could find no trace of her, it was suspected that she might have been in the church. It was only yesterday, however, that the authorities were able definitely to identify her by a bag which was found in her clothing, and which contained her passport. She was accompanied by her secretary, Mlle. Madeleine Floch, who was also a victim.


“Miss Mullen was from Fox Lake, Wisconsin, but for a number of years had lived in Paris, where she had been engaged in business as a buyer of French models for some of the American department stores. She was the representative of the firm of Stockbridge and Clothier, of Philadelphia, and also did the buying for another American firm. She was an authority on French fashions, never failing to be present at the big fashion openings each season.

“Before the war she was greatly interested in the artists of the Latin Quarter, where she had many friends.

“She had recently been made one of the secretaries of the Lyceum Club, and was actively engaged in the work of the American Group. She took also a keen interest in war relief work.

“Until recently she resided in her own apartment in the rue de Rivoli, but had taken rooms at the Hotel Brighton about three months ago.”

My feelings are too deep and hard to express. It gives me a sick-all-in feeling. May God help the Allies to crush German autocracy if it takes a world of men to turn the trick and if the German race has to be completely obliterated. I would have given up my own life a hundred times in preference to seeing such a dear good woman so killed.

Why on earth they sent us to this place is far beyond the realm of speculation.

Monday, April 1, 1918:

April Fool’s Day! What a difference from all past April fool’s days for most of us! It is raining and disagreeably cold outside. Ten cars have just been called to Gondrecourt[-le-Château], Camp Hospital #1, leaving the place reasonably quiet so I will endeavor to write this diary up to date.

Changes in work are few. The Gondrecourt detachment was recalled some 3 weeks ago after an inspection by Chief General Surgeon and we were given strict orders to do no work, but ambulances work for Base #66. This made a rearrangement of schedule necessary as we had been using our cars for most anything just to have something to do. Since then we have had, but five cars on duty each week and to show how busy we have been I have been on call with four other cars since last Thursday and we have only made one round of cars--in other words we have had but five calls. Why on earth they sent us to this place is far beyond the realm of speculation. Part of the American system! Our idle life has resulted in nothing but a disruption of the section and a certain sarcastic and pessimistic impression of the American Army in France. Our Lieutenant has gone mad, arresting one of the boys for nothing which created such a feeling among the boys that six of our best have applied for transfer, 1 Horn Snader for infantry, 4 Harris, McGuire, Keever, Boatman for tanks and Woodell for artillery. Whether or not they will be accepted is questionable. These applications have made considerable difference with our Lieutenant and top-sergeant. They are sorry for what they have done and have tried to make up with us.

Yesterday an order came through to be prepared to mean into action on 24 hours notice. This has helped the general spirit very much. Where we will be sent is, of course, mere speculation, but with the turn things have taken we have reason to believe that we will be “borrowed” by the American Govt. for the time being which means that if we once get into action with the American Army we will stay there.

The latest and all important topic of conversation, of course, is the last and most powerful and frightful attack of the Germans on the western front and still fiercely continuing. As I sit here writing there is a heated discussion around the stove regarding the recent honor awarded Gen. Foch in giving him supreme command of the western front. No one seems to question the fact that such an honor is due this Marne hero. Even the English grant him than. As to its strategic value there is little meaning to this appointment.

The Daily Mail the other night summarized the German position in a way which seems to me to be in accordance with the sentiment as I have been able to observe it around here. “The present German offensive on the western front is the seventh colossal movement of the kind which the Germans have undertaken in the present war. It is worth notice that several of these ‘pushes’ have failed, as there is good reason to hope this will.” Then it goes on to enumerate these “pushes.” 1st on Paris about Aug. 19, 1914 after a preliminary rush into Belgium. This ended with the battle of the Marne. 2nd in Oct. 1914 aimed at Calais and Boulogne including the battle of Ypres in Oct. In Nov. the battle died away with a victory for the British. 3rd in Feb. 19 the defeat and annihilation of the 10th Russian Army due more to treachery and bribery than to any “push” after all meant little nothing. 4th the big push at Verdun beginning in Feb. 1916 which resulted in complete failure on the part of the Germans. 5th After a reorganization of German and Austrian forces under the increased power given Hindenburg, the Boche made a successful offensive against Roumania. 6th came the “push” on Italy in Oct. 1917 which was aimed at Venice and a hoped for split of the Italians from the allies. The actual result up to the present time has been a capture by the enemy of 250,000 prisoners and 2,300 guns and a rapid advance to the Piave. This push was stopped by the arrival of French and British troops on Nov. 12. With no exception every one of these “pushes” has been marked by the complete confidence on the part of the Germans with tremendous forces of men and supplies, but yet they fall short at the critical moment. It sees to me that we have every reason to believe that this one will fall short just as the others have done. It would look as though the crisis were near at hand. It would not surprise us very much if it turned out to be the crux of the final crisis of the German Army. Let us hope so.

Our personal observations have been made from the movements of the American and French Armies on the Nancy front. The 1st and 2nd Divisions are both up there at present and have been for nearly a month. The 26th Division is now moving up after having just come down from Soissons with the French. They are releasing a French [division] in the Nancy sector which proceed to the western front to act as reserves in the great battle. This takes all, or practically all, of the Americans off the western front and puts them in the Nancy sector where they will probably be allowed to take over the sector in entirety. It has been my opinion that this will be the sector to which we will be sent and probably with the 26th Division. The boys with whom we have talked have, of course, been most optimistic about what the Americans are doing.