A year has taken me a long, long, way from home both in thought and person.

Ever since Grant embarked on this great adventure, he adopted the use of several French words in his diary and letters. "Repos" and "permission" are two words that appear frequently since both were highly desired by men on both sides of the fighting. When an army is en repos it's at rest in the rear, away from the bloody carnage. Going on permission (military leave) was even more coveted than repos because one could get far away from the fighting, recharge one's batteries and try to forget.

In this letter to his mother, Louise, Grant describes being en repos and the tantalizing carrot of permission dangling before him.

Convois Autos.,

S.S.U. 647,

Par B.C.M.,

France.

                       

Friday – June 14, 1918

 

Dearest Mother:-

It’s been almost two weeks since I last wrote you. And a busy two weeks it has been, too.  We are still where we were and have been for the last two months. (Read the first article in the Literary Digest for May 4). Several of our cars have been laid up so that some have had to do extra work. I am now on my third day of rest. Tomorrow will be my fourth and last. It’s just like coming back on repos to come to this camp of ours. It’s as quiet as the cemetery next door--far enough back so that we can only hear the big guns and sufficiently out-of-the-way and small enough so that we are not bothered by air-raids.  Have spent my time back here this “hitch” just sleeping and eating. It feels great to be able to sleep in a good bed in a large airy room free from bugs and rats. We (#647) played the French Engineers in soccer last night after supper. This is the third game in a series of five which we have played these boys. They have won two games (2-1 and 1-0) and we have won one (2-1). It is rather difficult for us to depend upon 11 men who play because we are continually shifting in and out of this place. Soccer provides diversion and excellent exercise. The Frenchmen are fine sports and enjoy playing with us as much as we do them.

Soccer

Stuart Hugh Fraser AKA Fraze (1892-1990)

We have a new Lieutenant now and he is a peach. Hasn’t been over here long but so far we are very enthusiastic over him. As soon as he found out that we hadn’t had a permission of any kind in over nine months his first action was to arrange a permission schedule.  We paired off and we have just drawn for numbers. You have heard me speak of Fraser, New York, old #61 man?  He and I are going together. Regulations permit only 5% of any group leaving on permission at the same time which means two men in our section. I drew № 2 which means that we ought to be out of here in about three weeks. Am as excited as a kid about this thing. Maybe by the time this letter reaches you “Fraze” and I will be off in some corner of France on a real vacation for 7 days. Hap is going with McCrackin.  They drew № 5. Johnnie is trying to get to England with an English cousin--1^st Lieut. in English army. Johnnie drew № 14. Poor kid, and he did want to get away early. The irony of the whole thing is the fact that the government already owes us two permissions.  Before we make the rounds of this permission another will have already passed. Like this: Not including non-coms and our Lieut. we have, at present, 34 men in the section who are eligible for permission. That means 17 permissions when paired off. We are allowed 7 days exclusive of traveling time which means that each pair will probably be gone 10 days.  All right, 17 permissions of 10 days each means 170 days or better than five months and a half before we make the rounds and we are supposed to get a leave every four months.  Can you explain that? I can’t. But I’m so tickled to get any at all that I’m not complaining--just pondering.

Am writing Bill Everett today to tell him the glad news and see if we can’t get together. Bill’s situation will have a lot to do with where we will spend our permission. I should like to get down south again if possible.  The government may have something to say about where we are going, however. The good old days of going where you will when you will have passed, I’m afraid. So much for myself.

Mother, I have just received a letter from Dot, dated May 19, in which she told me all about her engagement party. I really can’t tell you how deeply I was affected by what you did for her in my absence. That letter put me to bed and kept me there for two days.  You know, Mother, a year has taken me a long, long, way from home both in thought and person. Now don’t misunderstand me. I think of you all very, very often but I can’t place myself back there among you. I’ve tried it time and again but it simply will not work.  I can’t explain it. Maybe because the nature of our work over here compels us to put most of our energy and thought behind our work and to forget everything else. Home seems so far off and a thing of the past because we have cast it out of our minds in our determination to stick over here until this thing is over.  We know not when that time will be. It may be a year, it may be a hundred. In any circumstance it’s our duty to stick it out. It isn’t a pleasant thought but it’s the truth. Anyway when Dot told me what you had done it broke me all up and a terrible attack of homesickness set in. It’s the first real severe attack I have ever had and hope it’s the last. Went up on the hill last night alone and had it out. Feel much better today. The novelty of this experience is no longer here to buoy us up. That has worn off long ago and it is now a continual night of bad dreams and horrible sights. I’ve had enough.  God, when will this thing be over?

 

Dorothy Houghton Willard (1894-1979)

Dorothy’s party evidently made her very happy and I’m very happy too although it hardly seems possible that I can be a part of it. She mentioned hoping for a letter or card or cablegram from me on May 18. I would have cabled if I could have done so just as I would have from the hospital. One can’t depend on mails. It is really most discouraging. I did write her but I have no assurance but what that letter will go just where many more of mine have gone.
 

I don’t want Dot to take that nurse’s course, training, I don’t want her to come to France. Her mother says Dot isn’t physically strong enough and then she--Dot--has the wrong idea back of it all. She says she wants to do her bit just as if that necessitated coming over here. She is willing to attempt a branch of work which she herself admits she isn’t crazy about just to get over here and to see me. I would love to have her near me but not in present France nor while doing work she didn’t like and isn’t fit for.

 

Somebody from Minneapolis inquired for Hap and me at camp here other day but we were both up on post. He left no name but said he would be around again. Would like to know who it could be. Thought everybody from Minnesota was an officer outside of Hap and me but this fellow, they say, was a private.

 

Here’s hoping that by the time this letter reaches you I will be off on our permission with Fraze and Bill. Bill will like Fraze I’m sure.

 

Thank you, dear people, for all you have done for me.  I feel more helpless than ever.

The same old barrels of love.

Grant.