Arrived in Paris about 9 a.m. ...

Grant returned time and again to this hotel in the 9th arrondissement of Paris. The building houses a hotel to this day.

Thursday, May 31, 1917:

Arrived in Paris about 9 A.M. After saying good-bye to Mr. Symons and Miss Mullen we left for our various hotels. Tish Libby and I got a nice room at the Hotel Silvia run by the same management as that running Hotel du Palais where most of the boys stayed. After reporting at the office where numerous papers were signed we spent our time in seeing Paris. The location of the Hotel Silvia was something like this:

The location of our hotel explains pretty well our situation. We were centrally located where we could see everything easily without moving very far from our source.

The first woman street car conductor and motorman almost upset the cab because of the excitement it caused on top.

Grant R. Willard arrived on French soil at the great port city of Bordeaux a hundred years ago today. In this diary entry, he describes the disembarking procedure, ground transportation and his train ride to Paris.

Wednesday, May 30, 1917:

Censors boarded the boat in the night and were inspecting baggage this a.m. when I got up. I fell in line with my passport visaed. Then Sloan and I got our baggage inspected, checked to station in Bordeaux and everything on deck ready to be taken off. The inspectors were funny. Big, fat, greasy-looking Frenchmen who paid no attention to anything but tobacco. Playing cards and matches were completely ignored. Objections were made to my two one-pound cans of Tuxedo until Bill Sloan, who never uses tobacco, claimed one of them as his.
We left the boat about 11:30 this morning and were met by a Mr. Havemeyer who had made all arrangements for us between Bordeaux and Paris. We were taken to the R.R. station in hacks. I don’t doubt we amused the natives tremendously when everybody made a grand rush for the tops of the vehicles rather than sitting inside on the cushions. A hack with no occupants inside, swaying back and forth with its top-heavy load was not an uncommon sight. The first woman street car conductor and motorman almost upset the cab because of the excitement it caused on top. There was much adieu made by groups of French soldiers we passed. Bouquets were thrown at us from second and third story windows. The advent of America in this war has touched a soft spot in the hearts of these poor Frenchmen.

After seeing the sights of the city in a cab with Otto Sharp we returned to the depot about 6 p.m. and had dinner with Miss Mullen and Mr. Symons in the depot dining room.

Miss Mullen and Mr. Symons changed the plans in order to ride up to Paris in our train. We left at 7:45 this evening 2nd class. We got a compartment next to Miss Mullen’s and we had a very enjoyable ride. I slept not a minute more than an hour all night.

The whole trip has been wonderful. I shall never forget it.

Tuesday, May 29, 1917:

It is reported this a.m. that we will be at the mouth of the river by 11 o’clock this evening to lie there until tomorrow a.m. It hardly seems possible that we can be so near the end of our sea voyage. I’m not sorry, however. The fellows are all anxious to “get started” and will all be glad when Paris is reached.

Got up for my first breakfast on board this a.m. Miss Mullen had prepared coffee for us and she boiled an egg which was delicious--I mean an egg apiece. She has been perfectly wonderful for us all and I’m sure is going to be like a mother to us all in Paris.

It is raining and foggy out--the best kind of a day imaginable for the danger zone. The whole trip has been wonderful. I shall never forget it.

No excitement. Played cards with the usual crowd and had our farewell tea party in Mr. Symons’ room.

Miss Lynch is a very clever woman.

Monday, May 28:

Got up at noon, ate dinner and sat on lower deck and sunned myself with Libby and McCarthy who has been quite ill the past four days with asthma.

4 P.M. played bridge with Miss Lynch vs. Symons and Sharp. We won three rubbers in succession. Miss Lynch is a very clever woman.

Miss Mullen gave another tea at 5:30.

After dinner we sat on deck: Miss Mullen, Miss Lynch, Sharp, Symons and Gregory. I stuck it out until 3 A.M. when I left them and went to my bunk. No lights were allowed on deck. We are in the danger zone and every precaution is being taken. You’ve got to hand it to these Frenchmen for system. They have three men in the crow’s nest and four on the bridge with the gunners at their posts and watchmen on the rear deck. No smoking is allowed on deck and few lights are burning within.

Miss Mullen, Sharp and self fell into a philosophical discussion centered around fatalism. As usual we got nowhere because we all had different conceptions of the scope of the word “fatalism.” Omar was brought into discussion and some parts of his philosophy severely criticized. Sharp didn’t think that fore-ordination and predestination were included in fatalism. I can’t see it any other way. If we cannot alter conditions through the will what is the power given us for and why do we continually endeavor to develop and use this power? If all has been planned for us why work to change it? Why not sit idly by and let God have his way without endeavoring to assist and run the chance of standing in his way? We finally agreed that after all has been said and done happiness is the goal toward which we all strive. The friction comes with the difference in method of attaining this goal. Some believe it should be done thru sacrifice in making others happy and some with the idea of the self uppermost.

The life boats are now swung out ready to lower at a minute’s notice...

Sunday, May 27:

Second Sunday on board. Got up at noon and ate a good dinner. A beautiful day with the water as quiet as the day we left N.Y. I wonder where we are. We are said to be due in Bordeaux about Wednesday noon. We are running at greater speed now than heretofore. We have passed many boats in the last two days -- all merchant vessels. The explanation seems to be that the boats are convoyed out of European ports in groups and then when out of the danger zone are abandoned and scatter to the four winds. They say we are to be convoyed in another day.

Tish and I sunned ourselves on the forward lower deck this P.M. for two hours. Many pictures were taken. The favorite objects seemed to be a group of six French soldiers just returning to the front after a furlough of a month in America.

At four o’clock we had another life boat drill and the boats are now swung out ready to lower at a minute’s notice. We have all men in our boat for which I think we can be thankful if anything should happen. Everybody treats the probability lightly, however, and no one seems to be worried. Many are sleeping on deck now, but I am too fond of my bunk.

At nine o’clock we had a concert on board in which we discovered that we had much talent on board. It opened up by a lottery on prizes contributed by people on the ship in the way of eats, drinks and trinkets. Those that were not called for were raffled off and sold at fabulous prices. Next on the program was a French play of which I understood nothing. An American play and take off on beginners in French followed and was very amusing. Then we ascended to the parlor where a very good musical concert took place. Many artists were uncovered for the first time this trip. Mr. Symons’ voice is a tremendous baritone and very good. He sang some ballads. They are reported as having taken in some $825 all of which is to go to some war benefit fund.

After the concert Miss Mullen staged a party in the dining room at which there were about 15 of us. We ate sandwiches, cake and drank punch and had an awfully good time. At 2 A.M. I went to bed.

Will we ever know what the accident was?

Friday, May 25, 1917:
 

The water is more quiet today and the day more clear. Got up at 10 A.M. and took a nice hot salt-water bath after which I shaved and went to dinner. Paul was there, but looks like a wet dish rag. He won’t eat a thing.

We get wireless news every day posted on the bulletin board and today we were informed that the Mongolia returned to New York with the bodies of two nurses killed on board by accident. Will we ever know what the accident was? We get news from France, England, America keeping us posted right up to date.

Read Service until 4 P.M. Crawled into a life boat with my blanket and lay flat on my back for three hours. At 4 I attended Miss Mullen’s tea -- only she always serves coffee -- and afterward played bridge with Miss Lynch against Mr. Symons and Gregory. We won. After dinner Mr. Symons and I played Miss Lynch and Gregory and lost. Went to bed about midnight.

We are running more carefully these nights. We have been passing a number of ships by day and goodness knows how many by night. Up to last night we have been running in utter darkness, but now we have a mast light and red and green on either side. The decks are very dimly lit whereas formerly there was no light whatever. We have had one life boat drill and have another tomorrow P.M. It consists of nothing more than reporting with your life belt at your particular boat on the spar deck.

Paul ate quite heartily this evening and looks much better than he has for several days.

I would give my kingdom for even a bucket full of earth.

Thursday, May 24, 1917:
Still rough, but better than yesterday. Many places are vacant in the dining room. Paul Hoerr still looks ghastly and eats very little.

Got up about noon, ate good dinner and then went up on upper deck, climbed into a life boat out of the wind and there, with Tish and another fellow, spent the afternoon reading Service and Dorothy’s letters. I read her last steamer letter today in which she quoted from Thomas à Kempis that famous passage on resignation: “I am the way, the truth and the light,” etc. A very beautiful passage. Gosh, but it hurts to have to be content with reading these things from her when I was just getting so used to being with her and hearing her say them. If I hadn’t made preparations for going to France and had my mind set on it before I arrived in Ambler, I’m sure I never could have gotten away. I pray to God that all goes well with her while I am away.
This morning at 4:00 A.M. the engines stopped and a man who died of T.B. yesterday on board was fed to the sharks. I did not see the operation. The story goes that he was trying to get home to his family before he died.

We have passed many ships they say, but I never get up early enough in the morning to see them. I surely needed sleep. Never felt better in my life than I do between rocks of the boat. But when it heaves way up, twists and comes down with a crash of foaming water, then I would give my kingdom for even a bucket full of earth.

At 4 o’clock we congregated in Mr. Symons’ cabin and Miss Mullin served coffee. It was surely good and she’s a peach. Later Miss Lynch, Mr. Symons played Gregory and myself in bridge and beat us. After dinner Miss Lynch and I played Mr. Symons and Gregory and beat them all to pieces. Miss Lynch surely can play. At 11 o’clock we parted and went to bed.

Here is Dorothy's steamer letter No. 6:


No. VI—Thursday, Friday, Saturday

Deacon-Husband-to-be!

The ride over to N.Y. and you has been lovely for the train went so fast; and besides the country was so beautiful. I’ve seen little winding streams, woods and wild flowers, and loved them all! In 45 min. I’ll be with you! I wonder if you’ll kiss me, I hope you will, but I’ll make a wager you didn’t! Won’t it be fun to see which one wins?

You will be reading this Thursday way, way out upon the ocean while I’m at school preserving law & order in the school-buildings until 4.00 P.M. Then I shall wend my way houseward—on the trolley if it’s fine weather & train if it’s not! I hope you aren’t sea-sick—for it’s a horrible feeling. The trip will do you good, even if you are, for it will give you time to rest. And rest is the best preparation for the work you’ll find ahead of you. I’ve heard from Agnes and the American Ambulance Hospital is terribly rushed. In about 2 wks. she says (writing May 5th) they’ve brought into Paris over 5,000 wounded & dying to be cared for. Nurses and ambulance-drivers are in great demand, so you see, dear, you are greatly needed; and will be doing a noble service to suffering humanity. I am glad and happy in your work; for I feel that in letting you go willingly, I am helping a bit. I only wish I could be over there with you, doing more. And if it all lasts—who knows but what I may!

Today’s letter really contains Sunday’s sermon. I found a great deal of comfort in these words of Thomas à Kempis, and so will pass them or to you;-

“I will have thee learn perfect resignation of thy self to my will, without contradiction or complaint. Follow thou me: ‘I am the way, the truth & the life.’ Without the way, there is no going; without the truth, there is no knowing; without the life, there is no living…I am the straightest way, the highest truth, the true life, the blessed life, the life uncreated. If thou remain in any way thou shalt know the truth, & the truth shall make thee free, & thou shalt lay hold on eternal life…Verily the life of a Christian is, a cross, yet it is also a guide to paradise. I have begun I may not go back, neither is it fitting to leave that which I have undertaken. Courage, then, brethren, let us go forward together! Jesus will be with us. For the sake of Jesus we have undertaken this cross, for the sake of Jesus let us persevere in the cross. He will be our helper, who is also our guide and forerunner. Behold, our king entereth in before us, & he will fight for us. Let us follow manfully, let no man fear any terrors; let us be prepared to die valiantly in battle, nor bring shame on our glory by flying from the cross.”

I am ashamed because I have tried to “fly from the cross”, but I know that although at times our burdens seem too heavy, with God’s help anything is possible. Nothing I can add is adequate after such a quotation—so, heart of mine, I am going to end this letter with simply—God bless & keep you and sometime bring you back to me—I feel wonderfully peaceful & happy now and hope you do too.

        Ever your Dorothy