By May 1918, Grant Willard had been away from home for a year. The only "family" he had near him were the members of SSU 647, and the makeup of that unit was markedly different than that of Norton-Harjes 61 the year before. 647 was an U.S. Army unit containing men from different walks of life. Some were, of course, the well-educated sons of privilege--the "gentlemen volunteers"--with whom he'd volunteered in the Norton-Harjes unit. But in this new unit Grant was rubbing shoulders with men from the East, Midwest and South whose backgrounds and experiences were far different from his own.

On this day in 1918, Grant wrote his mother, Louise, a candid letter describing his comrades. Part of this letter was censored or Grant used a code so as not to divulge the true names of the French villages were he was serving.

Convois Autos.,

S.S.U. 647,

Par B.C.M.,

France.

Monday – May 6, 1918

Dear Mother:-

You know, we have a very cosmopolitan outfit in #647. It wasn’t so noticeable until we fell in with the various American units which were all organized from some definite state or group of states. The question is frequently asked, “What part of the States do you fellows come from?”

Where upon we have to recite the history of #647:

SSU 647's insignia

Speed Gaynor and Jack McEnnu (inseparable) hail from New York--sons of finance are they–-never have done a stroke of work in their lives until they hit France. Speed is a musician and particularly clever on the ukulele which instrument is with him continually. It’s a great help to us all and when McGuire is present with his mandolin they make music which attracts people everywhere within earshot.

Leo McGuire claims Oklahoma as his home. He is part Indian which shows in his skin. He is a great favorite among the fellows though he is very quiet except on certain occasions when he is the nucleus of the whole party. Mac has been very quiet and sober of late and isn’t quite himself. You see, the Boche shot his car out from under him the other day with a 77 and Mac had to carry his orderly to a place of safety where they were later picked up by another of our cars. The orderly is still in the hospital but Mac refused to go even to rest up awhile. He was all for going back and salvaging his car until the Lieutenant flatly refused to allow a man to go close to it. Neither man was badly hurt – just nerves, you know. I passed the car the other night about dusk and though you can be I wasn’t wasting any time on the road I had a good look at the ruins. I pronounce it a miracle that either boy came out alive. Now don’t let this worry you a bit because we are no longer allowed to make this post in the day time and it is perfectly safe after dark.

Snader with a case of roast beef

Then there is Horn Snader, the section humorist. He’s a wonder. Been over here about two years now in service. He is about 35 years of age, no parents, no home, no business but more friends who would do anything under the sun for him than anybody I ever met. Before he came to France which I think is the only country he hadn’t previously traveled, he had spent his time in a little bit of everything from the race track to tutoring rich young men’s sons, who, due to some defect, are unable to take care of themselves. He and some wealthy young man bought up a hotel in Bermuda some years back and you laugh your slats loose listening to Horn tell of their experiences. It’s hard to describe Horn because he takes and impersonates so many different parts that it’s hard to tell when you're with Horn Snader.

From the southern states we have “Woodie” Woodell, Jack Swain, Deveraux Dunlap and Tod Gillette--four mighty well-liked boys. Woodie and Tod come from Florida while Jack and Dev are only too proud to boast of Dallas, Texas. These four all talk with the southern dialect and stick together like brothers. Anyone of them will give you half and more if you would take it, of anything they own. Woodie was manager of a steam laundry before coming to “do battle,” as he says. While at training camp he became bored with doing just what the others did and no more so he went into the kitchen and is now a 1st class cook. He’s ashamed of his position and is so afraid that someone back in the States will get a hold of it that he gets terribly blue whenever he thinks of it. He can’t get rid of his cook’s job because he’s too good at it. Tod was manager of an artificial Florida ice plant when he too a sudden dislike to the Boche and left within a week’s notice. Dev. and Jack are from Sewanee College of the South and were in an officers’ training camp when they decided that it was too slow getting to France that way so they resigned and volunteered with the Norton-Harjes unit.

Jack Kendrick our 2nd Sergeant is a Connecticut boy. His family was at one time very wealthy but suddenly went to pieces financially causing his father’s death and leaving Jack a mother and sister to take care of. He did it so admirably through the automobile business which he built up that he was able to come to France 3 years ago with the Norton-Harjes unit and has been over here ever since. He is a nervous, overgrown kid who talks and stutters so fast you can hardly understand him. He’s afraid of nothing except that someone in the section is going to have a little excitement which he can’t share. When we are doing front work he is never at the base post where he belongs but can always be found at the most advanced position seeing that everything runs smoothly. The Frenchmen think the world of Jack and as to the feeling of the section is would be putting it mildly to say that there is no officer in our section, commissioned or non-commissioned, from whom, we had rather take orders than Jack.

Then there is Pinky Harris, New York, about 30 years of age who has seen a great deal of life and can speak Kipling by the yard. We also have six men from Clark’s College in Worchester--everyone a good scout. And one could go on describing every man in the section ending up with the same phrase--“he is a good scout.” There is not a man in the outfit whom you would be ashamed of in your own home. We’ve had nothing but perfect accord since we have been together.

We are pretty well split up as we are here for the purpose of helping out other Ambulance companies. Ten of our cars are working in one sector with one company and five in another with another. Five cars are kept idle. Our system of shift (rather intricate) is this: our base past is at V[ignot] where five cars are kept idle. At M[andres-aux-Quatre-Tours], some distance off, we have a base for ten cars which work together. From this base five cars go to A[nsauville] for 24 hours. From  A[nsauville] two cars are sent further up to B[eaumont]. When one of these cars gets a call it stops at  A[nsauville] on the way back to the hospital and sends another car up to take his place at  B[eaumont] and when he returns from the hospital he parks at  A[nsauville] . In this way everybody is subject to the same calls and everybody has an equal chance. Morning and night the 24 hour shifts are made – 2 and 3 cars respectively. I am at base  M[andres-aux-Quatre-Tours] now and go on every night for my 24 hours. Hap is up here with me but goes on in the evening and I don’t see much of him. Sometimes I find myself making my bed beside him but when I wake up it is either because I have a call or because it’s morning and Hap has gone out on call. Tomorrow our 7 days is up and return to  V[ignot]. The other sector is worked with  V[ignot] as the base and five cars stay on posts 48 hours after which time they return to  V[ignot] and the five idle cars go on. Though this system may seem intricate on paper it is really very simple and satisfactory. We are on the move practically all the time. The other Ambulance Cos. have gradually withdrawn to rear work in order to give them a chance to overhaul their much overworked cars.

Edmund Anderson and the unit insignia.

We have had a comparatively easy time of it up here on this sector. Two weeks ago there was considerable excitement here and every car was busy for two days but everything is serene again.

In many ways I am mighty glad to have had this chance of working with the boys from across the sea though we are only loaned to them. When this division is withdrawn we don’t know what will become of us. Perhaps we will go with them. They are a fine bunch of boys and great fighters. Most of them come from the eastern states. Haven’t met a soul among them I know but there must be some. Weiderman’s company is not attached to this division though they happen to be here at present.

Will finish this after supper before I go on duty and mail it here. Our Lieut. won’t censor this letter. There is another way.

7 P.M. Sargent Kendrick just came in to say that we would be relieved at 8 A.M. tomorrow so we will stay in here tonight which gives me more time in which to finish this letter.

We ate what we called “slum gullion” for dinner tonight. It’s nothing more nor less than a stew consisting of meat, potatoes, tomatoes and whatever else they may have lying around the kitchen – on toast. We have coffee three times a day with milk when there is any. Tonight we have dates for dessert. This ambulance company feeds very well.

Got a letter from Bill Everett the other day. I hope we can meet though I don’t see how except by chance. He may be right near me and I now know anything about it except by a chance meeting. Isn’t that a sad state of affairs?

Mother, the prospect of us all being reunited soon doesn’t look very promising, does it? A year ago at this time I had left you and was on my way to say good-bye to a very dear little girl in Pennsylvania. Though it seems far more than a year since that time things have cleared up a lot for me. She is a dear, isn’t she, Mother? You know it now perhaps as well as I do. Perhaps better than I do with your superior experience. But I feel far better now than I did then. I am surer of my ground. I’m surer of her. I don’t think any longer – I know. But I have been awfully foolish in a great many ways. I’m afraid I have hurt Mrs. Houghton pretty deeply and now, as I look back on it, I can see how and why. My problem now is to make good to her. I no longer want Dot over here with me but want her right in Ambler with her mother and moreover I want her to look at this whole thing more in the way Marion is looking at it. How can I make her happy to stay and do as her mother wants her to do? That’s my problem now.

Well, I must quit now and read the evening papers--Daily Mail, New York Herald, and Tribune.

Much love to all,

Grant.