We live in denims all the time

This is the last entry in Grant Willard's WWI diary. Just a few hours after he wrote these words, he and his unit boarded a ship for home.

Saturday, May 17, 1919:

Up at 5:30--breakfast at 6. At 7 o’clock we marched over to Camp #1 where we were again de-cootized. We were then taken over to barracks--92 men in one barracks with a permanent corporal in charge. Regulations are most strict. We live in denims all the time, are only allowed out of the barracks from 8-11 and 2-5 and then only for drill. No prospects of leaving.

The ship the 647 boarded was the U.S.S. Mallory. She left port early on the morning of May 18 and the men caught their last glimpse of France as the sun rose in the east.

I surely tore off some sleep.

Almost two years to the day that Grant Willard sailed to France, he and his comrades prepared to sail home.

Tuesday, May 16, 1919:

We left Le Douet this A.M. at about 9 o’clock. Hiked with packs into Nantes station and boarded an American freight train bound for St. Nazaire. Our American engineer got us out exactly on time--11:25. 

Well, we were a pretty happy gang. Reached St. Nazaire at 2 P.M. and hiked about six long kilometers to Camp #2. Passed many boats being loaded with troops. Reached camp by 5 P.M. very tired and hot. 5:30 we ate a fairly good mess after passing a medical examination before about a dozen doctors. I surely tore off some sleep.

Thursday, May 15, 1919:

Got orders today to leave for St. Nazaire tomorrow A.M. at 10 o’clock. Great day in camp. They say our boat sails on Monday. Guy Smith out to camp and said good-bye.

“Detained indefinitely. Well. Love.”

Guard duty and souvenir hunting...

Friday, May 9, 1919:

[The] 647 took the guard this P.M. at 4 o’clock for 24 hours. McCrackin is Sgt. I’m Corp. of the 2nd shift. Dev., Fratz, Kirk and Jim are my men. We went on at 6 this evening and continue on a schedule of 2 on and four off.

Cabled Dot yesterday: “Detained indefinitely. Well. Love.”

There is not much new dope. Lieut. Smith was ordered to Paris for reasons unknown. Left last night and expects to return tomorrow A.M.

A Sgt. under our transportation officer now teaching math in every school told Kirkpatrick and Johnnie that the 90th Div. was expected down here soon which will force us out. Whether it will force us on to the boat or not is still a question.

Went downtown yesterday with the idea of buying souvenirs for the family and Dot, but came back empty handed. There are many nice things over here for women as well as men and my head is chuck full of ideas, but all so impractical. Laces and silks are very beautiful and not too expensive, but there is no place to carry such things except in duffel bags where they would surely spoil under present treatment. I had some shell cases dressed and decorated while we were up in Verdun for Mother. I’ve bought a number of souvenir spoons for Sis and Dot. I would like to get them more if I could find something practical. Johnnie, Tib and Dad are problems. If they only smoked I could think of a million little handy souvenirs. Something may turn up yet.

We have given up hope of ever getting out of here.

As April gave way to May, 1919, Grant Willard and his comrades were still stuck in tiny Le Douet on the outskirts of Nantes with little idea of when they would sail home. Boredom and anxiety mixed with military regimen.

Adding to the boredom was the fact that they were confined to camp for the days surrounding May Day, or ​​International Workers' Day. It was probably his first exposure to the holiday as the year before he was very busy at the front. Even though International Workers' Day was founded to commemorate the laborers killed in the Haymarket Affair in Chicago in 1886, the holiday never caught on in the U.S. as it did around the world. Various labor organizations and the government promoted Labor Day in early September instead.

In this entry Grant also mentions the older sister of his good friend and fellow ambulance driver, Allen "Happy" Ahlers. "Hap" and Grant served together for the whole war. Following the Armistice, Harriet H. Alhers Houdlette (1891-1985) came to France as a volunteer with the American Red Cross. 

Saturday, May 3, 1919:

Still here in this little hole of Le Douet within striking distance of Nantes and yet too far off when one is “broke” as most of us are now. We have given up hope of ever getting out of here. A week ago today Lieut. Smith was told by the embarkation officer that we would leave yesterday. But nothing has come of any of these rumors and we have given up hope.

Lieut. Smith returned from Chaumont yesterday where he went in quest of these 17 Croix de Guerre that were promised us. He has made no formal statement yet, but Jack said last night that he was unsuccessful.

And so we hang on from day to day flitting from rumor to rumor, doing our daily drill and fatigue, not without complaint to be sure, but desperately and halfheartedly. Oh that I had only been demobilized over here when I had the chance.

For the past three days we have been held close to our barracks being prohibited from leaving the town because of French labor demonstrations. It seems that these three days are set aside for the French labor parties to celebrate in whatever way they see fit. They see fit in staying intoxicated most of the time and I guess the authorities are afraid of trouble if the Americans try to mix in.

It’s reported that we get paid Monday or Tuesday.

Allen Alhers (left) with Grant Willard in 1917.

Harriet Ahlers is in Paris, having just arrived in Red Cross work. Hap received a letter from her from Brest and sent a reply by Lieut. Smith which he delivered in person in Paris. She can’t come down here and Hap can’t go to Paris. Tough.