Collections : [University of Michigan William L. Clements Library]

The Grace D. Banker collection contains letters, photographs, and newspaper clippings written by or relating to Grace D. Banker, a telephone operator who served during World War I as part of the U.S. Army Signal Corps in Europe with the American Expeditionary Forces.

Banker sent two letters to Georgette Poulard, an American immigrant of French origin. On April 8, 1918, in French, Grace Banker informed her friend that she did not see any submarines on the voyage to France, described her appreciation for the French countryside, and gardens, and assured her that she did not carry a revolver as she was not in danger. On September 10, 1918, Banker wrote about the news of her father's death, the picturesque quality of her surroundings, and her current lodgings in a French home. Accompanying the letters are three empty envelopes addressed to Poulard, one containing a newspaper clipping about Banker's decoration and some plant material in a small envelope labelled "My Four and Five and six/leaf clovers/Georgette/Poulard."

The collection includes a silver gelatin portrait photograph of Grace Banker in uniform, mounted in a separated trifold photo mat. A contemporary newspaper clipping, "First Passaic Girl to join the Army," includes a newsprint reproduction of the portrait; it is pasted on the damaged mat.

The Harold Kamp journal is an account of a young man's life serving in the United States Army in World War I, including time spent at the front lines.

Harold Kamp's diary from the First World War is well written, direct, and packed with action. Reflecting the active part taken by the 146th Field Artillery in three of the major offensives to involve American troops -- the Aisne-Marne, St. Mihiel, and Meuse-Argonne -- Kamp's diary provides a well-rounded sense of artillery service during the First World War, from training with shells to raining shells. A well educated man, Kamp was an accomplished writer, fond of displaying his interest in the ancient history of the fields over which he fought. At the same time, his diary is very economically written, conveying the intense fear and repulsion felt by a young man confronted by the horrors of modern warfare. At some point, probably after the war, Kamp's diary was edited by striking through or emending certain passages. In many cases Kamp's (?) efforts to strike through his writing did not fully obscure the original passage, and in deciphering these sections, it appears that the editing was aimed more at readability than censorship.

Kamp's writing conveys a particularly profound sense of the terror of modern, large-scale war and of the chaos and tumult of battle during his first exposure to fire in the Aisne-Marne offensive in July, 1918. His best writing, however, was reserved for the Meuse-Argonne offensive of September and October, and particularly for the entries of September 25, 26, and 27. On the 25th, contemplating the utter destruction near Verdun, Kamp's literary penchant worked strongly in his favor:

The guns are in position, four of them, on a roadway, where once the villagers gossiped and lived their daily life. But all that is past. Now every lane and street and corner is the retreat for a death dealing gun. How strange it is that no matter in what direction the eye may turn not a sign of human life is visible. A sort of nightmare seems to have taken hold on the war stricken area. Everything is as still as death; birds have f[org]otten their song, the trees no longer have life; little children have ceased their play.

The entry for September 26 is by far the longest in the journal, continuing for several pages. Begun when he was awakened by the first artillery salvoes marking the opening of the Meuse-Argonne offensive, Kamp's excitement is palpable, but the passage includes particularly detailed accounts of watching an American plane shoot down a German, and watching German planes bring down an observation balloon in a dramatic display. The entries throughout the Meuse-Argonne offensive are uniformly informative.

This collection is made up of 36 letters that Harry L. Langnecker wrote to his wife while serving at the U.S. Naval Base Hospital No. 2 in France during World War I. He commented on his work at a spa, internal politics within his unit, and other aspects of his daily life.

This collection is made up of 36 letters that Harry L. Langnecker wrote to his wife while serving at the U.S. Naval Base Hospital No. 2 in France during World War I. He commented on his work at a spa, internal politics within his unit, and other aspects of his daily life.

Thirty-five of Langnecker's letters (dated March 28, 1918, to October 22, 1918), bear numbers between 7 and 55, apparently comprising part of a series. He wrote most frequently about his duties, which included overseeing a spa and performing surgical operations; he often provided anecdotes about his relationships and interactions with co-workers. Several letters pertain to Langnecker's relationship with his wife, and he discouraged her from attempting to join him in France (July 21, 1918). Langnecker mentioned visits to "Castle Brahau." Though he focused on life at the hospital, he shared his negative opinions of Belgian citizens (April 6, 1918) and nurses (August 31, 1918), and he discussed the potential consequences of women remaining in the workforce after the war (September 23, 1918). Two of Langnecker's letters have enclosures: a newspaper clipping with a photograph of William Sowden Sims and an advertisement. Langnecker drew a diagram of his bedroom in his letter of October 16, 1918.