I don’t want you to get the impression that I am a physical wreck...

As Grant recovers from jaundice, he writes home to mother from his Paris hospital.

Thursday – Sept. 26, 1918

Dear Mother:-

I don’t want you to get the impression that I am a physical wreck and will never be good again for anything but a bed warmer.  I have a few good punches in me yet (though I am again in a hospital--or rather, a home for convalescents--it’s merely the jaundice this time and I am about cured of the miserable stuff.  Have been in Paris just a week and this is my first day out of bed and my second on regular diet.)

This place is the home of the old American Field Service in France, as you will observe from the letter heading.  A beautiful spot in a beautiful section of Paris.  (We carry on our convalescing in a little Swiss chalet located in the gardens behind the main pension.  We number about twelve in all, all ambulance men from various sections, with as many different ailments.  The place is now run for this express purpose--taking care of convalescing ambulance men after they are well enough to leave the hospital, making it as homey and as comfortable as possible.  The idea of the thing is splendid for us and the supervision is of the best.)

Chalet in the garden of 21 rue Raynouard.

This long delay between letters has undoubtedly caused you all some worry, especially when you knew we were up in the thick of it.  Everything is O.K. with us, however, and the general outlook is most encouraging.  As much as we have been longing to be returned to the French, where we feel we belong.

One can’t help admiring the way our plucky little boys tore off that Boche salient.  Miserable weather with roads in bad condition but not once did they falter.  As fas as I can see the papers are right in saying that it was a complete victory for the Americans.  And 15,000 prisoners means something.

In following up these advances the ambulance work is often the most interesting.  One has a chance to see and observe so much more of the general situation.  And when one runs into a freshly captured village there is usually a minute or two between loads in which to pick up a souvenir or two which no one else had had time to fool with.  For instance, in one town I got ahold of a bill advertising a special film to be shown to the German soldiers that night in the very building we were using for a dressing station.  I’m not much on this souvenir stuff but this rather appealed to me as worth keeping.  Fritzie must have pulled out in somewhat of a rush for he left many things of interest and value behind.  Uniforms, gasmasks (a room full of new unused masks), leather hip-boots, documents (official and otherwise), helmets, rifles and revolvers.  For live stock we have the Crown Prince’s goat and 31 rabbits.  The goat we called “Crown Prince” until the unfortunate (or fortunate?) discovery was made that we had the sex wrong.  No one seemed to know for sure what the Princess’ name is so we took a chance on Cecelia and let it go at that.  She looks quite snappy after a good bath, dressed in her made-to-order blanket with the section insignia on either side.

I expect to be rejoining the section soon.  The Captain thinks I will be well enough to go see the dentist tomorrow, with whom I rather think I shall have quite a tussle.  The roots under my gold crown have gone wrong and I was told sometime ago that it was no easy job to fix.

Haven’t had a chance to see Paris yet but just the thought of being in Miss Mullen’s city again is cheering in spite of the fact that she is no longer here to add her charm.

With a great deal of love,

Grant.