I can’t even write in this book what I have been through...

In late August 1917 the U.S. Army announced that it would take over all the volunteer ambulance corps then operating in France, including the American Field Service and Norton-Harjes. The leaders of the purely volunteer ambulance services did not agree with this militarization and resigned en masse. For the individual drivers--like Grant Willard--the coming days were full of soul-searching and difficult choices: to join the U.S. Army and continue driving ambulances in France, or to quit, return to America and possibly be drafted to fight.

Sunday, August 26, 1917:

I was just going to bed when the Chief came in and wanted to know if we would take him down to Verdun where he was to meet Mr. Kemp. It was raining fiercely, but dear little Fifi behaved wonderfully. It was too dark to see any of the city. I could only see that it was very heavily fortified and Mr. Bullard said that it was considered the most heavily fortified city in the world, but not very practical for modern warfare.

We went into a barracks which consisted of a long 700 ft. concrete underground hall way with like tubes branching off at intervals on either side. It gave one a feeling of safety just to enter the place. Many thousands of troops are quartered here. No wonder Germany had Verdun for one of its chief objectives.

After about ¾ of an hour wait the Chief returned with the following information in brief: The American Government is making arrangements for taking over all American Red Cross in France. They sent over a commission to look over the work and make the arrangements. They wanted to militarize the whole system making Mr. Norton a Major, Mr. Kemp a Captain and the head of the American Ambulance Corps a Captain. The result was that our whole Paris office including Mr. Norton & Kemp & Havemeyer resigned, refusing to put their work on a military basis. They agreed to stay until the American Government was ready to take over to work, but they are through from then on. They advised us to sit quiet and await developments, but not to rush headlong in any direction until we were sure which way we were going. There are many other details in the preliminary arrangements which makes it almost certain that Section 61 will continue its work under present management for the duration of their 6 months, but at the end of that time the section to a man will return to America and run a chance of being drafted.

Personally I will not hesitate a moment about returning even though I felt that I could better myself by staying over here because I owe it to Dorothy and my family, who have seemed to be consistently opposed to my coming over here from the start, to do so. If I am drafted and have to return to France shortly to be put into the trenches in much more dangerous work I feel that I will not be to blame. I have done what I conscientiously feel is the best for all concerned and still feel the same way. Oh, if they only understood as much as I do, having seen and experienced what I have over here, -- but they probably never will. I can’t even write in this book what I have been through and what this has meant to me to say nothing of telling all when I return. Maybe when thousands return with similar and even worse stories of modern warfare than I could or would tell -- then maybe they will open their eyes. America can’t understand as these people do until they have suffered some themselves and the probably never will understand it to the degree that France does. The fact remains that no Ambulance section in this present war has been through the severity we have. The Verdun sector is a sector that many sections have absolutely refused to make. In addition to the ever-present risk and danger the French have launched to big attacks, probably the biggest ever launched, right in our sector and the adjoining one.

That God has been with us constantly is a fact which every man in the section realizes fully and does not hesitate to admit openly. We have escaped so far with no loss of life. Three men wounded has been the entire toll so far. Every man in the section has had at least one close shave and probably many more of which he was not conscious. The attacks are now completed, all objectives forced, many prisoners taken. We have been here almost three weeks and are now about due for a rest which we expect in a week or two. The men have worked hard and gloriously. We are all thin and our nerves are more or less shattered from little sleep and constant watchfulness. Many a night’s sleep has been spoiled by visiting Boche aviators or shell fire. The section has received one citation for its good work and two of its members will receive his in a couple of days for noble and fearless work.

It’s so useless, hopeless and destructive.

On this date 100 years ago Grant sat down to write a letter home after his first taste of war. He was in a state of shock from what he'd experienced.


Friday – Aug. 17, 1917

Dear Family:-

Have been sitting at this table for the last 15 minutes trying to collect my thoughts sufficiently to assemble them into some sort of an epistle which I feel is due you. The thought which continually comes to mind and refuses to evacuate is the significance and true meaning of the war, or rather the phrase “modern warfare” and the hopelessness and uselessness of this present war in which we 40 men are trying to play our infinitesimal part. Having just come off a 48 hour shift up near the front I am chock full of it and I don’t know that my brain has been sufficiently cleared by the three hours sleep I have just received to relate it in anywhere near accurate sequence to you. However, I shall attempt to do so in brief. I shall fulfill your request in telling you a bit more about our work over here. Please don’t blame me if the censors see fit to remove part of it.

The French military departments are about as follows: Army, Army Corps, Brigade, Division, Regiment and Companies. A Regiment over here is made up of anywhere from 1000 to 3000 men. A Division comprises anywhere from 2 to 7 Regiments depending upon the sector served by said Division. Each Division has anywhere from 1 to 3 or 4 Ambulance sections serving it. All of these sections were formerly French sections but have been gradually replaced by either the American Red Cross or American Field Service. The French sections have not been entirely replaced by any means but to a considerable extent.

With this as a foundation then let me tell you more of Section 61’s situation. We are serving with Division [CENSORED]which is at present in a rather hot sector and therefore considerably swelled in numbers and therefore we are serving with Sect. 1 of the American Field Service who have been operating in this district for some time.

We are responsible for about 10 posts called “Postes de Secours” to which the wounded are brought by French “brancardiers”. The roads to these various posts centralize at a cave called Citerne Marceau. All of these roads are partly exposed to the Boche sausage balloons in the day time so our work as well as that of the supply trains and artillery caissons is done under cover of night in pitch blackness over roads made very rough by heavy traffic and occasional shelling by enemy guns. Four cars are kept at the Citerne continually and the remainder are kept back here at our base ready for instant call when the other four are busy. We are supposed to work on 24 hour shifts but we have been rather unfortunate with cars of late and have been called upon to use every available car for the last two nights. My car happens to be in perfect running condition which fact keeps me on the job a good share of the time. The work has been very hard for the last two nights.

The wounded are classified under two heads – couchés and assis. A couché is a badly wounded man who has to be carried on a stretcher. An assis is a sitting case. Our cars carry either 10 assis or 5 couchés or a combination of the two. Every incoming load stops at the Citerne for inspection and any work which requires immediate attention is done there by a very good French medical corps. From there the wounded are carried by us to this hospital where the worst cases are taken. The rest are taken by a French section of Fiats to hospitals in the vicinity so that the place may be kept as clear as possible. The other night and night before last the work here was too heavy for the French Fiat sections and I was called out at 3 P.M. that day to help evacuate. We were busy until 1 P.M. yesterday. We carried during that time 35 cases in six trips. You can perhaps judge from this something of the difficulty of night work on heavy roads with no light. Some of the cases were very bad gas cases.

I went to bed upon my return and was aroused at 4 P.M. by the good news that Mr. Norton was in camp and had brought some mail with him. The mail proved to be one registered package for some one else. At 5 P.M. yesterday the chief asked me if I would take himself and Mr. Norton up to one of our posts. Of course I did. The road was being shelled by the Boche and we had to take refuge in an abri (which is an underground cave found everywhere along the roads) where we remained from about 10 P.M. to 4 this morning. After the shelling ceased the road became jammed with wagons and trucks and being very slippery after a heavy rain we found it necessary to wait until almost daylight before the road became sufficiently cleared to run on. We found our car untouched and made a rapid trip home. This place never looked so good before. During our 6 hours in that hole in the ground Mr. Norton told us many funny experiences and kept us in good humor all the time. He’s a great man and I’m sure every fellow here is mighty proud to be working under such a man. Such experiences as these ought to make men out of us all. While one can’t avoid a decided hate for the enemy he learns patience, calmness, ability to think rapidly in emergencies and he incidentally becomes very fleet of foot. In addition to this he becomes a decided pacifist and loathes the person or persons who instigate such murderous slaughter. It’s so useless, hopeless and destructive. There is no gain there from which cannot be obtained without the sacrifice of human lives and the sacrifice of every thing the human mind has spent all these years in developing. The other night I had a town pointed out to me and was told that we were then passing through the main street. Gun flashes revealed the fact that not a single stone of that town was still whole. It was an absolutely flat mass of broken stone without a single building or tree left standing. It’s criminal: and the responsible party deserves to be punished accordingly. I have had my fill and will be glad to return to America but it will be to a New America. I’m sure Americans have no idea what hell is and will not until our boys get busy and their stories told back home.

But take heart, dearest family, and tell mother not to worry. By the time you receive this letter we will be off this sector and in repos somewhere far from this hell hole and December will find me on my way home to you.

Now I must go and get my blankets in before the dew falls.

Use your own judgment Dad in showing this letter to mother.

Much love,

Grant.

Convois Automobiles,

Section Américaine, S.S.U. 61,

Bureau Central Militaire,

Paris, France.

Mr. Norton’s a brick.

Richard Norton (1872-1918) was an archaeologist and amateur baroque-art scholar. The son of Charles Eliot Norton (Harvard art historian), he graduated from Harvard College in 1892. At the outbreak of WWI he organized the American Volunteer Motor Ambulance Corps, known also as "Norton's Corps." It later merged with the H.H. Harjes ambulance unit of the French army, which, in turn, was absorbed by the U.S. Army in the fall of 1917. Norton died of meningitis in Paris in 1918.

Thursday, August 16, 1917:

Was awakened at 4:30 P.M. with the news that [Richard] Norton was in camp. The Chief asked me if I would take Mr. Norton, Mr. Langelier and himself up to [the aid station at] Carrière Sud. At 8:30 we started. It was too late for an easy run. The roads were jammed with artillery and ammunition trains.

About half way between Chambouillet and Carrière Sud we suddenly came on to one of our cars in the dark. It was backed in against the hill with the front end blocking traffic. A wagon driver was trying to pass, cursing like a good fellow. Just then a shell dropped near us and warned us that we were in a dangerous place. We thought at first something had happened to the boys on the stalled car, but they were nowhere in sight and their motor ran when I cranked it up to move it out of the way. We found a wide place in the road and drove both cars out of the danger of passing traffic. Then we dug for an abri [shelter]. On reaching an abri we found the other boys safe, but somewhat frightened. We there also 2 bad couchés which we couldn’t account for until a Frenchman came in with the news that one of our cars was stalled up the road about 100 yards coming with 5 couchés coming from Carrière Sud and that these were two which they had brought into our abri for safety. Chief and Matt walked up the road and soon came back with Wilson Clarke and Shorty Prior who had run their car into a shell hole in the middle of the road and broken the front X all to pieces. They had moved the car out of the way.

To go on in that shell fire was out of the question. To go back against that traffic was impossible so we prepared to stay until just before daybreak when traffic ceases until dark again. We had nothing to do but put boards across the 3 ft. space in the abri over the couchés and smoke and talk. Mr. Norton’s a brick. He told us many interesting things among which was the fact that the French attack was being held up a couple of days in order to coöperate with the English on their big offensive in Belgium, that this was to be the biggest attack ever launched in the history of the world and that he didn’t see how the war could possibly continue through the coming winter. Incidentally he said we oughtn’t to have Carrière Sud on our list at all because of the danger and delay--that our cars ought to be working instead of laying up for repair.

Well, we smoked up five or six packages of cigarettes until 3:30 finally came. Suddenly in walked Bart and Jake on their way to Carrière Sud. We got all five couchés out and started to load them in to Matt’s car to go back to Citerne. We were loading № 4 when a shell landed near us. When we turned around to load the 5th couché we found nothing but stretcher. Thinking that he had rolled into the ditch for safety we crawled on our hands and knees in mud four inches deep searching every shell hole all in vain. Jake and I ran up to the abri and asked them if they knew anything about him. They furnished us the interesting fact that last couchés had run into the abri about 5 min. before and said he was going over to La Source. Matt & Rap returned. Bart, Sparks, Chief and myself went on to Carrière Sud. We found the road pretty well chopped up but passable. We loaded up and returned by light of a beautiful sunrise, reaching Beaulieu about 6 A.M. very tired but happy that the night had passed with all of Section 61 present and accounted for. №1 was badly damaged but not irreparable. ‘Twas indeed a warm welcome for Mr. Norton.