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.