Memorial Volume of the American Field Service in France


Born January 4, 1896, in Irvington, New Jersey. Son of William L. and Jean Robertson Glorieux. Educated Newark Academy and Princeton University, Class of 1917. Plattsburg Camp, 1916. Joined American Field Service, May 26, 1917 ; attached Section Nine to November 5, 1917 Returned to America in November. Enlisted as Private, U. S. Field Artillery. Trained at Camp Jackson. Died of pneumonia while a candidate at Officers' Training School, Camp Taylor, Kentucky, on October 13, 1918. Buried in Clinton Cemetery, Irvington, New Jersey.

NOTHING more clearly shows the spirit of Gilbert Robertson Glorieux than his declining, while still a private, to take up topographical work which would have led to a commission and instructorship, in America. His heart was set upon a speedy return to France and nothing less would satisfy him. He had gone over in May, 1917, with a Princeton unit of the American Field Service after being turned down for Aviation, and joined Section Nine, then in the field near Pont-à-Mousson, when it won a citation for its voluntary work during air raids. After serving at the front he felt that the soldier was as humane as the surgeon, and came home to enlist in the American army.

Gilbert grew up in Irvington, New Jersey. At school he "did just the things a boy would do; but always, from earliest boyhood days was he noted for absolute truthfulness." He read widely and was a popular member of several clubs at college. He sang in the choir at Princeton and was always keenly interested in athletics. Although of too slight a build for football or crew, he was the school's best man on "gym" and track teams. His never failing and whimsical courtesy is a thing that older people remember best; and to his contemporaries the idealism, and intolerance of wrong that carried him into the war and kept him in the army later against such odds of ill health, is memorable. He had, too, a rare twist of humor, and a keen penetration that gave him especial charm, and made his companionship a thing to cherish.

After his return from France he succeeded in joining aviation, but collapsed the first day at camp and was sent home. For several months he nursed a heart nearly twice normal size. Flying school was now out of the question, so as soon as he improved sufficiently, Gilbert joined the Field Artillery. His own high sense of duty made Gilbert choose the hardest path. During the first week of his convalescence, he wrote, in a letter to a friend: "It is not entirely patriotism that makes me want to go --- but I have been out to-day looking at the beauty of our old oaks, in a cluster, waving in the clean wind against the blue sky. I made friends with a sparrow and some bobolinks that balanced on spears of grass, and met a great cock pheasant breasting his way through the grass like a swimmer through the waves, his gay feathers shining and his red crest bobbing. Beauty and Love and Truth and Peace, are the reasons I want to go back, I should have to go, you see, whether we were in the war or not."

He worked hard at Camp Jackson through the excessive heat of June and July, and wrote that he "expected soon to be able to carry a cannon under each arm with comparative ease." In August he was sent to the officers' training camp at Louisville, Kentucky, and his captain said of him, "I considered him one of the best men in my organization for a commission." There were times when he longed to be back in France as a private, and times when his heart "objected," as he put it, to the exhausting work. He was able, however, to keep up until a few weeks before he would have received his commission, when he fell ill, this time with influenza, and worn out with the intensive training, developed pneumonia. Just as he died he said, " I wish I could tell you how wonderful it is, but it's so hard to make you understand --- The roll, the roll of honor!"


Born July 16, 1895, in Sterling, Illinois. Son of William P. and Alice Manning Benson. Educated Sterling High School, University of Illinois, and University of Wisconsin, Class of 1919. Joined American Field Service July 23, 1917; attached Transport Section 526. Transferred to Reserve Mallet, U. S. Motor Transport Corps, October, 1917. Sailed for America, with injured knee, October, 1918. Died at sea of pneumonia, October 16, 1918. Buried in Sterling, Illinois.

AFTER a year and a half of hardship and splendid service in the course of which occurred the accident that rendered him unfit for further action, as he sailed westward with his heart full of the joy of home-coming, Merrill Manning Benson was suddenly stricken by pneumonia and died on the morning of the day he would have landed in America. It was in September, 1918, that the doctors decided to send him back from France on account of an injured knee, and October saw him safely installed on the Leviathan,--- homeward bound. But his weakened condition left him helpless before the disease that crept upon him, and though he fought bravely with a dogged unwillingness to acknowledge defeat so near to home and happiness, early on October 16th his spirit slipped silently away. Five years earlier a boy had been carried off a football field protesting wildly --- though white with the pain of a wrenched ankle --- at not being allowed to finish the game. Likewise in 1918, Merrill was being sent home out of the "game" against his will. And as he would have preferred to have been back in France sharing their hardships so we know that he is well content to rest with those other brave spirits who had the good fortune --- denied him --- to die in battle.

At the Sterling High School in Illinois where Merrill spent four of the fullest and happiest years of his life, he was one of the leaders. He played football and ran on the track team and was active in the literary and social activities of the school,---giving to everything the very best that was in him. Mechanics absorbed a great part of his attention and he early displayed a natural aptitude for the science. When, in the spring of 1917 he learned of the work of the American Field Service while casting about for some means of offering his services to his country, he was immediately attracted by the opportunity it presented for the practical application of his mechanical ability and knowledge. So on July 23d, he sailed for France, happy in the realization of his hopes and eager to make actual offering of his loyalty and patriotism. With many of his fellows he chose the camion branch of the Field Service which at that time presented a quicker and surer means of getting into action, and was sent out to Section 526, after a few weeks at the well-remembered training camp at Chavigny. He fell easily into the work, tackling all jobs that came his way --- were they pleasant or not --- with zest that was characteristic of him. He was an expert driver and his professional services as a person acquainted with the whims and ills of gas engines were continually in demand.

In October he was transferred to the American army as a member of the Mallet Reserve, being sent shortly after as an instructor to a motor transport school. He was eager, however, to get back to his old friends and the life he loved, and spring found him at the front again. The last letter received from him was dated September 5, 1918, and was the first in six weeks so it is probable that he spent the intervening time in a hospital, though in his desire to save worry on the part of his parents, he made no reference to his accident and even now it is not known just how it happened. Quietly, uncomplainingly, be accepted his fate and when the biggest demand was made upon him we know he met it quite simply, like a soldier.


Born March 6, 1894, in Muskegon, Michigan. Son of Harry Nelson and Elizabeth Downing Boyer. Home, Chicago, Illinois. Educated Orchard Lake Military Academy, Cornell, and Leland Stanford Universities, one year each. Brokerage in Chicago. Joined American Field Service, February 14, 1917; attached Section Four to August 29, 1917. Enlisted French Artillery; Artillery School, Tank Service, near Paris. Lost eye, premature shell-explosion. Croix de Guerre. Returned to America. Torpedoed on Antilles, April, 1918. Enlisted U. S. Tank Corps, physical examination waived. First Lieutenant. In charge, Machine Gun School, Camp Colt Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Died at home in Washington, D. C., on leave, October 19, 1918, of influenza. Buried in National Cemetery, Arlington, Virginia.

THERE is always an added glory to the achievements of a lad whose health is none too robust, and such was the case with Wilbur Boyer. He entered Cornell University with the intention of becoming a civil engineer, but after two years was compelled to abandon the idea. As his mother has written: "Physically he was unfit for a career as civil engineer, as he had a bad leakage of the heart from early boyhood, a fact he never admitted until his last illness."

After leaving college he was employed for a time in a broker's office in Chicago, until, in February, 1917, he. was accepted as a driver in the American Field Service. At the end of his six months' enlistment period, during which time he served with Section Four on the Verdun and Champagne fronts with remarkable energy and devotion, he entered a French Artillery School near Paris. Here he was progressing rapidly in the tank service, as étudiant conducteur d'un tracteur blindé when the premature explosion of a gun resulted in the loss of his left eye. Although badly wounded Boyer showed the greatest courage and presence of mind in extinguishing the resulting conflagration and carrying his Lieutenant to safety. For this he was awarded the Croix de Guerre with a splendid citation. He was on board the Antilles, on his way home to recuperate, when the vessel was torpedoed and sunk. He was picked up and carried back to France and later sailed on the St. Louis.

A friend of his mother's wrote of him, shortly after his return: "I was in his confidence during the year in which he put forth every effort to be accepted for service in France. He showed at this time the greatest perseverance and singleness of purpose until he succeeded. During his months in service I heard from him frequently and I was amazed at his powers of observation and his startlingly concise way of presenting facts. On his return he showed two characteristics which are typical, he talked very little and was very conservative when he did make statements. He said to me: 'I cannot talk about what I do not know, and what is the use of endlessly repeating what you have only heard.' He is a student and reads constantly the best books. His power of concentration is remarkable. I have seen him sit for hours intent upon his reading, utterly oblivious to the conversation going on around him. He is quiet and dignified, but is gifted with that keen sense of humor which relieves trying situations and makes men good companions."

In April, 1918, while still suffering from the effects of his service in France, he had himself inducted into the service after much difficulty. Men were needed, however, with his knowledge of tanks and machine guns, so that a physical examination was waived. At the time of his death on October 19, 1918, he was serving as a First Lieutenant in the Tank Corps, in charge of a machine gun school at Camp Colt, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. He had gone home to Washington on a five days' leave, when he was taken ill with influenza and died.

Undaunted by ill health and wounds, Wilbur Boyer's one idea had been to serve his country to the utmost regardless of the consequences to himself. No simpler or finer tribute could sum up his life than the words of his mother: "He was all I had, but he fought the good fight, lived his young life to the full, and was not afraid."


Born February 28, 1895, in New York City. Son of Farquhar and Juliana Armour Ferguson. Educated Harstrom's Tutoring School, New York, and in Paris. Joined American Ambulance, France, October, 1914. Joined American Field Service, April, 1915; attached Section Two until August, 1915. Returned to America. Enlisted U. S. Coast Artillery. To France, with 42d Coast Artillery. Died of pneumonia, October 20, 1918. Buried Dannemarie. Body transferred to an American Cemetery in France.

WHILE studying in Paris in 1914 Danforth Brooks Ferguson of New York City first became involved in the World War. From that time until he finally gave his life on October 20, 1918, except for a short visit home to the United States in 1917, Ferguson's career forms a paragraph in the story of American devotion to the cause of France and Civilization.

"One cannot be in Paris without feeling and seeing the wonderful spirit of national heroism which is holding this country up," he wrote to a friend shortly before he enlisted in Section Two of the American Ambulance Field Service early in 1915.

Inspired by that expression of staunchness at which so many Americans later marvelled, he served with Section Two in the region of Bois-le-Prêtre and Pont-à-Mousson where he and his fellows did remarkable service.

Ferguson thoroughly enjoyed his work with the French, being imbued with a high sense of devotion to the cause. According to his comrades, while not having performed any spectacular feats, his part, however small, was done always with a good feeling which showed that his heart was in his work.

"I'm out here now doing a man's work," he wrote. "While we don't get into a great deal of danger, at least we can feel that we who have had the good fortune to have lived and studied in France can in a small measure repay her. And when the United States finally comes in to help La Belle France, perhaps the entente cordiale of these few ambulance sections will help the good feeling along."

In another letter he said, "I carried forty wounded today and am dead tired. Perhaps a great many of the wounded won't live for more than a few hours, poor fellows."

Danforth Ferguson was born on February 28, 1895. A large part of his education he received at the Harstrom's Tutoring School. He went to Paris to study early in 1914 and was caught in the backwash of the war at its opening stages. He remained in Paris until he enlisted in an ambulance section in the spring of 1915. During the summer of that year he was stricken with pneumonia from which his convalescence and recovery required many months. He subsequently came back to this country for a short time but returned to France, enlisting as a private in the Coast Artillery. He was attached to Battery A of the 42d Coast Artillery when he died a victim of influenza on October 20, 1918. His body rests in the little burial ground at Dannemarie.


Born January 27, 11892, in New Britain, Connecticut. Son of Harris B. and Nellie Munroe Humason. Educated New Britain High School, and Tome School, Port Deposit, Maryland, Class of 1911. In business, Landers, Frary & Clark Company, New Britain. Joined American Field Service, May 26, 1917; attached Transport Section 184 until December, 1917. To America. Enlisted U. S. Aviation. Trained Ground School, Princeton, New Jersey, and from September, Camp Dick, Texas. Died in hospital, Dallas, Texas, October 21, 1918, of pneumonia. Buried New Canaan, Connecticut.

EVEN without the testimony of all who came in contact with Howard Crosby Humason, we should know him from his letters to have been conscientious, humorous, sincere, and likeable. He wrote often and at great length to his mother, giving a panoramic and remarkably vivid picture of the war as it was unrolled before his eyes, and faithfully reproducing the story of his own daily life for her comfort and assurance even when he was so tired that letter-writing must have required great effort. He looked at the world sanely and objectively, contemptuous rather of sentimentality, and yet his mind was actively alert to impressions of every nature, particularly to the humorous aspect of things of which he wrote in a quiet, amused way. In an early letter he described his unique method of getting "extras" from the French cooks at the camion camp where the food was good but insufficient in quantity: "I said loudly every time I approached the cook-tent, 'Vive la France and Beaucoup de Pommes de Terre!'" In October he wrote that when he arrived in Paris on permission he revelled in the luxury of a hot bath and "then went straight to sleep in a bed that made you wonder how you would get in and what would happen if you fell out." Bits of humor like this were interspersed with observations of a more serious nature. In July, 1917, he wrote: "In Paris the majority of the people feel the privations of war without the actualities, which makes them discontented and discouraged more than those who are in reality at war."

Howard was educated at the New Britain High School and at Tome School from which he graduated in 1911. The school paper says that "he made an excellent record as a student and won the high regard of the masters as well as of the entire student body." He went immediately into the employ of the Landers, Frary and Clark Company in New Britain where he remained until his enlistment in the American Field Service on May 26, 1917. To his business associates he disclosed, in the words of the paper published by his fellow employees, "a thoughtful consideration of others and an unfailing good humor." He went to the front in Section 1, T. M. U. 184, of the camion branch and saw active service in the Chemin des Dames sector from July to December. Through his letters he has given one of the most accurate and vigorous accounts of camion life that has been written and it is regrettable that lack of space prevents quoting freely from them.

In December, 1917, he returned to this country for the express purpose of enlisting in American aviation, having been rejected in France. He passed his examinations with a 100% grade and was sent to ground school at Princeton. His fellow students there, writing to his mother after his death, remembered him as "not complaining of his troubles, humorous . . . . . . always willing to hold up his own end and give the other fellow a lift." He graduated from this school in September and was sent to the flying field at Camp Dick, Texas, where on October 21, 1918, he died of pneumonia.

His employer, Mr. Charles F. Smith, said of him, "His quiet, unassuming faithfulness and diligence won the regard and confidence of his employers; his kind heart and genial disposition, the affection of all his associates." A boy friend wrote that he was "generous to a fault, kind and true," and the headmaster of Tome School recalled Howard as "one of the finest boys we have ever had in the school." We who read these tributes and have seen his letters can say with one of his friends that he was "frank, generous, chivalrous, honorable, and a clean-hearted gentleman."


Born February 6, 1897, in Indianapolis, Indiana. Son of Oscar Leon and Rosa Mills Watkins. Educated Shortridge High School; Wabash College, one year, and Harvard University, Class of 1919. Joined American Field Service, May 23, 1917 ; attached American Staff, Boston Office. Mission to France, July-August. To America, and returned to France, October 3, 1917, in U. S. Aviation. Trained Foggia, Italy. Commissioned Second Lieutenant, May 18, 1918. Trained in France, Tours, St. Maixent, Issoudun, and Cazeau. Assigned 94th Aero Squadron, First Pursuit Group. Died October 23, 1918, of pneumonia on way to the Front, at Bar-le-Duc. Buried Bar-le-Duc, Meuse. Body to be transferred to Crown Hill Cemetery, Indianapolis, Indiana.

To few has been granted a magnetism --- a charm of personality---so rich as that of Osric Mills Watkins. Wherever he went among high and low he made friends who loved him devotedly and who followed his career with eager interest, attracted to him by what a professor at Wabash College described as "his sturdy forthrightness and sunny bonhomie." He was impulsively generous, with a radiant and tender smile. He loved animals and he reverenced women. Hugh Walpole says in his great book Fortitude, "It is n't life that matters, it 's the courage ye bring to it." Life to Osric was not always easy, but to his physical and moral courage it never presented any overmastering problems.

His mind was of a delicate imaginative quality, ---"such stuff as dreams are made of," ----sustained by a complete and beautiful religious faith. The following paragraph from a letter which was to be delivered to his mother in case of his death, shows not only the loftiness of his purpose but also his power of expression,

"This is n't to be mailed until I've gone where all good aviators go, Honey. You are so wise and brave and cheerful that I know you can be as proud as you are sad at my death. Of course there is scant reason to be sad, anyway. You would have wanted me to live that I might be happy for myself and that I might be a continual source of pride and joy to you. Well, as for me, mother, my life has been one long history of happiness, and no other ending of it could have left me more content. Could fifty more years have made it more perfect? And so with you also. Could I have done anything to make you more proud? With Liberty and true Christianity at stake you would never think of shrinking from the sacrifice."

In May, 1917, he left Harvard to enter the Boston office of the American Field Service. He went to France in July, traveling steerage in order that a poor woman and her sick child might have his cabin, and spent a month there on a Field Service mission, returning in August: On October 3, 1917, he sailed again for France and joined the American Air Service, writing to his family, "If you do not approve you have only yourselves to blame for teaching me in my childhood to love and honor --- first God, then my country, and then my family." He became a keen, daring flyer, and all his fellow officers are agreed that he would have made an admirable fighter. One of them who came particularly to love and admire him wrote to his father, "We all have our ideals of what a man, a Christian, should be, and Osric approaches as near to that ideal as it is humanly possible to come . . . . . Sympathy, generosity, fidelity, humility, a general lovableness of disposition which one can not begin to describe,--- all of these were his and more."

In October, 1918, at Bar-le-Duc, when at last on his way to the front assigned to the 94th Aero Squadron, First Pursuit Group, A. E. F., as a chasse pilot, he contracted influenza and later pneumonia from which he died on the morning of October 23d, calmly and serenely, justifying the promise made to his family, "I will face all things unafraid, both physical and abstract, as I have always tried to do in the past." It was not the death that he had dreamed,---glorified death in battle, fighting. And it was a higher courage that could meet it smilingly. "I will face all things unafraid!"


Born November 6, 1895, in Waltham, Massachusetts. Son of Clarence E. and Elizabeth Sheldrake Bacon. Educated Waltham High School and Dartmouth College, Class of 1919. Joined American Field Service, June 2, 1917; attached Transport Section 184 until November 16, 1917. Enlisted U. S. Field Artillery, December 5, 1917; attached 103d Regiment, 26th Division. Killed in action between Haumont and Samogneux, October 24, 1918. Recommended for heroism citation. Buried Samogneux, Meuse. Body transferred to Romagne-sous-Montfaucon, Meuse.

CHARLES BACON wrote to his family in October, 1917, while finishing out his term of enlistment with the Camion Service, a letter unconsciously filled with an intense longing for home. At the end, however, he assured his family that he was not homesick but on the contrary well and happy, and philosophically concludes, "I would give a good deal to be home for Christmas but I guess we cannot have everything we want." It was typical of his unflagging spirit that he would not admit his unhappiness and it was equally to be expected that he would not let the thing that he wanted to do, stand in the way of his duty. We are not surprised to learn that on the very day on which the letter arrived in America, he enlisted in the United States Army as a private in the 103d Field Artillery.

At the Waltham High School and during his short two years at Dartmouth College, "Dutch," as he was called, made many friends whose affection for him shines out from every page of the letters they wrote to his family on learning of his death. One schoolboy chum wrote with a feeling that was typical of them all, "He was the whitest man I've ever met, and every fellow that has known him thinks just that way. Believe me, he leaves a precious memory to us . . . . ...

Early in 1917, Bacon realized the nearness of the crisis and thought out his own duty in regard to it. In a letter to his mother, dated March 4th, he deplored the necessity of war with its attendant suffering, but stated calmly without affectation, "I will surely join wherever I can do the most good." June found him on his way to France in the American Field Service.

With his eagerness to see immediate action, he chose the camion branch and spent a happy and absorbing summer in T. M. U. 184 in a camp at Jouaignes, running up to the front near Vailly, on the Aisne. He wrote home long, ingenuous letters, full of the interest of his new work, striving conscientiously to reproduce for the benefit of those at home the atmosphere of the life he was leading. They are interwoven with bits of color and humor, and fairly breathe the affection and tenderness he always felt for his family. In describing his sensations the first time he was under fire, he said, "We all felt like lost dogs." In another letter he gives us a different and interesting impression of his character. There were just two things he wanted, he wrote,---a collection of Robert Service's poems and a tin of tobacco, and though he doubted whether the tobacco could be sent, he insisted on the poetry.

Like many Americans he at first wrote somewhat disparagingly of the French, but he was quick to recognize and acknowledge his mistake. Later we find him saying, "It is great to think you are doing something for France I only wish I had come over a year or two ago."

On December 5, 1917, "Dutch" transferred to the American Army, enlisted in Battery C, 103d Field Artillery, 26th Division, and soon went into action. Of the last months of his life, crowded as they must have been, we know but little. In the late afternoon of October 24th, 1918, as he stood by his gun in a little pit to the right of the road that runs from Samogneux to Haumont, northwest of Verdun, he was struck and instantly killed by a shell that exploded just above him. His body lies now in the cemetery of the Commune of Samogneux.

His captain described him as "fearless and reliable," and his lieutenant gave him high praise when he wrote "he was beloved by his comrades and always his work was of the best," but we know as certainly his worth when we hear the heart broken cry of his roommate of the old happy days at Dartmouth,--- "I loved him, I loved him ! "


Born October 8, 1895, in Kirkwood, Missouri. Son of George Lane and Florence Noble Evans Edwards. Home, Kirkwood, Missouri. Educated Taft School, Watertown, Connecticut, and Yale University, Class of 1918. Mexican Border, 1916. Joined American Field Service, May 26, 1917; attached Transport Section 133 to November 13, 1917. French Automobile School. Commandant Adjoint. Transferred U. S. Motor Transport Corps, First Lieutenant, Section 211. Croix de Guerre with palm. Died October 24, 1918, of wounds received night before between Lor and Neufchâtel. Buried French Military Cemetery, Guignicourt, Aisne.

LIEUTENANT George Lane Edwards, Jr., gave his life in the great war protecting his command. No finer tribute could be paid to any man. By this single act alone he has bequeathed to all who knew him the priceless legacy of an imperishable memory.

A general order from Captain Potter telling of Lieutenant Edwards' death states that he was killed by enemy shell fire while putting in safety the lives of his men. "Lieutenant Edwards has been in command since the company's inception. He always gave the best that was in him, and was appreciated, liked, and admired by all his comrades, of whatever rank."

A letter from Commandant Mallet of the French army tells the circumstances of his death. While unloading a transport near Lor, part of Lieutenant Edwards' company underwent a violent bombardment.

"After hastening to the point of danger," Commandant Mallet wrote, "Lieutenant Edwards directed the personnel and material to a place of safety. He wished to go over the bombarded road once more to make sure that none of his men remained there. It was in so doing that he was hit by a shell and was so badly wounded that he died in the hospital the next morning. His commanders lose in him a capable and conscientious officer, his comrades a true friend, his men an excellent commander."

Lieutenant Edwards, in fulfilling his duty as he saw it, reveals the finest qualities of the American soldier, a thorough conscientiousness and an absolute disregard of personal danger.

At the time of the outbreaks on the Mexican border Edwards was a student at Yale. He enlisted and served several months, then as soon as the troops were recalled he returned to college.

When the United States declared war against Germany he tried to re-enter the service, but was rejected because of defective eye-sight. He joined the Field Service and went to France with the Yale unit, entering the camion branch. He graduated from the French officers' school at Meaux, becoming Chef of a section, and later was transferred to the Motor Transport Corps of the American army, where, enlisting as a private, he was raised to the rank of First Lieutenant within a short time. He had been serving in France for more than seventeen months at the time of his death.

Lieutenant Lamade of the same reserve, sending word that Lieutenant Edwards had been awarded the Croix de Guerre with palm, added, "May I say just a word about Lane? When I took over the group and became his immediate commanding officer, there was not another as willing to work long hours, to give thought and energy, as he, in order to make the group run smoothly. To tell you that he was loved by his men seems trite --- but, oh, how true it is, and not only true of the men, but of us officers who have known him, and worked with him as we have. Lane died serving his country and fighting for the cause of France and humanity. His vision was greater than any of ours, and so we felt that it would be his desire to rest under the inscription we have put on the cross which marks his grave -'Mort pour la France.'"

Frank H. Kimber wrote to his father, "Company C is broken-hearted this morning, for we have just learned that our Lieutenant was killed on convois two nights ago. . . . . . He was one who was on the job till the last car was in camp, and even the men who thought he was too strict and over-conscientious, realize it will be impossible to get another Lieutenant who can handle the work and the company as well as he did . . . . . . He was one of the cleanest and whitest men I have ever known. In one sense the most fit to die, and in another, the most worthy of living."


Born February 6, 1893, in Weston, Massachusetts. Son of Robert and Eleanor Magee Winsor. Educated Middlesex School, Concord, Massachusetts, and Harvard University, Class of 1915. joined American Ambulance Service, September, 1916, Neuilly Hospital, until January, 1917. Returned to America. Plattsburg Camp, six weeks. Joined American Field Service , June 20, 1917; attached Section Four. Enlisted U. S. Army Ambulance Service, November 1, 1917. Croix de Guerre, two citations. Died in Bussang, October 24, 1918, of pneumonia. Buried in Bussang, Vosges.

THE story of "Phil" Winsor is the story of one handicapped from boyhood by illness which undermined his happiness and self-confidence, who nevertheless by sheer force of character won to health, achievement, and honor in his country's cause.

One of his masters at Middlesex School writes of him: "'Phil' as a school boy was one of those rare sensitive chaps born with a super-conscientiousness that made him almost too good, and yet with this unusual characteristic he found his friends among red-blooded boys whose respect he at once won. This fact proves as well that he never flaunted his goodness nor preached to others who lacked his point of view. His election to the captaincy of the baseball team in his senior year at Middlesex showed his popularity among his mates. As an athlete he possessed a 'good eye,' and as a scholar a mind much above the average of his class."

He entered Harvard in 1911, distinguished himself in freshman athletics, but in the following spring was compelled to leave college on account of ill health. Returning after about a year's absence, he devoted himself to his studies and received his degree in 1916. In September of that year he sailed for France to drive an ambulance for the American Hospital at Neuilly, in Paris.

He returned in January, 1917, and spent the following month in the south with his brother, who writes: "During this month 'Phil' was very unhappy, but there was a battle going on inside him, the forerunner of a very great victory. When war was declared he went to Plattsburg as a candidate for a commission, but after the first six weeks he was dropped from the squad and he himself felt that he was entirely unfitted for a command.

"Phil" felt that he must get back to France in some capacity and yet he loathed the very thought of war and the horrors it entailed. Most of all he hated the sickening work of carrying wounded, and perhaps because he hated it most he decided to take up the work again, and this time at the front. He was sent out in the early summer of 1917 to Section Four, and when in the autumn the Field Service was absorbed by the American Army, he enlisted in the U. S. Army Ambulance Service. For a year it was an uphill fight. He doubted his ability to carry on the work he had undertaken and he dreaded the dangers to which he was exposed, yet to conquer this very dread, he always volunteered for any particularly dangerous task and was twice cited for the Croix de Guerre.

With the summer of 1918, however, came the reward of his long struggle. Through having forced himself to the utmost in his work, he began to take an interest in this work for its own sake. He forgot himself, his fears, his doubts. His health improved greatly and with renewed health came new ambitions and ideals. He had long since won the love and respect of his comrades and the confidence of his officers, and now, by the latter, he was recommended for a commission.

Then suddenly came the end. He fell ill with influenza, pneumonia followed, and on October 24, 1918, he died in France close to the German Border with his Section. It seemed a horrible jest of fate that his life should have ended just as it was, in a real sense, beginning,--- just as he was about to receive the rewards for his fight which he had won. Yet dying as he did, what he gave to his country was a life, the more valuable for its splendid promise as a citizen; what he left behind was a record of which any soldier might be proud.


Born July 23, 1895, in Orange, New Jersey. Son of Heman and Mary Loveland Dowd. Educated Asheville School, North Carolina, and Princeton University, Class of 1918. Plattsburg Camp, 1916. Joined American Field Service, November 11, 1916; attached Section One to May 3, 1917. Enlisted French Aviation, May 14th. Trained Avord and Pau. Attached French Escadrille guarding Paris, Sergent. Spad Escadrilles 152 and 162 to February 17, 1918. Transferred U. S. Aviation. Commissioned Second Lieutenant, April, 1918; attached 147th Aero Squadron. Killed in combat, October 26, 1918, near Dannevoux, north of Verdun. D. S. C. Buried Romagne-sous-Montfaucon, Meuse.

MEREDITH LOVELAND DOWD was of the type of natural-born fighter to whom action and excitement are as necessary as the air he breathes. Fear he may have known in common with all brave men, but it never mastered him nor even deterred him for an instant from the career of daring that was his by choice. As a boy at Asheville School, he showed his adventurous, never-say-die temperament on the football field and as a member of the baseball and track teams. The school paper said of him, "While at Asheville he displayed the qualities which led him to give his life for his country --- courage, manliness, determination, honesty . . . . . . He was a student of good ability and a boy of strength and fineness." At Princeton he played on the Freshman and Varsity baseball teams, the Freshman football team, and was on the Varsity football squad. He was also a member of the Elm Club.

The voice of adventure called him to France in November, 1916 in the American Field Service, for no man with his instincts could sit and study in a classroom while a war was going on. He went out to Section One near Verdun and plunged into the work with enthusiasm and vigor. A comrade tells of his service on the famous and dangerous Esnes-Montzéville run. It was on this work that Meredith showed us his energy, his untiring and unselfish desire to work until it seemed to us that there was no limit to his endurance."

In May, 1917, when his term of engagement with the American Field Service expired, it was quite natural for him to enlist in the Lafayette Escadrille, for flying was sure to appeal to his venturesome spirit. He completed his training at the various French schools but was eventually commissioned in the American Air Service. As a member of the escadrille guarding the city of Paris, he had an accident while "contour chasing," that dangerous and difficult training in accuracy in which the pilot attempts to keep as close as he can to the surface of the ground. "Had dipped my wheels in the Oise River and jumped telephone wires and bridges," he wrote, "and then decided to see how close I could skim along a field of wheat." Before he realized it his wheels had touched the wheat and were pulling him in with the result that he suddenly found himself upside down, but fortunately unhurt and undismayed. The French soldiers who came running to the scene found him smilingly but ruefully regarding the wreck of his machine. Soon after this he went to the front assigned to the 147th Aero Squadron. On October 26th, he and three others were ordered to patrol the lines, but he was delayed on account of engine trouble and his companions got off without him. He decided to follow and continued alone to the adventure that was to be his last. His commanding officer, Captain James A. Meissner, filed the following official report which was later used as a basis for the award of the Distinguished Service Cross:

"Lieutenant Meredith L. Dowd, A. S., U. S. A. went on patrol over the lines on the afternoon of October 26, 1918, at about two o'clock. Over the Bois de Dannevoux he observed four German planes. According to the statement of Private M. M. Buckland, 305th Trench Mortar Battery, 80th Division, who saw the combat, Lieutenant Dowd first showed his markings to the planes as if they were Allied planes. As they did not answer his signal be attacked them immediately. The second time he attacked, one plane left the formation and headed for Germany. Lieutenant Dowd attacked the remaining planes three times, but the last time he drove on the formation, the plane which he had first driven off returned above him and shot him down. He fell in a steep dive and was dead when found by the French."


Born March 31, 1894, in Ossining, New York. Son of Varian and Clara Williamson Banks. Educated Ossining schools, Holbrook School, and Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, one year. With Franklin Motor Car Company, Syracuse, New York. Joined American Field Service, June 30, 1917; attached Transport Section 526 to November 18, 1917. Enlisted U. S. Air Service, December 2, 1917, St. Maixent. Trained Tours and Issoudun. Commissioned Second Lieutenant, May 18, 1918. Killed in automobile accident, October 30, 1918, near Nancy. Buried, Cimetière du Sud, Nancy, Meurthe-et-Moselle.

"What if he does not come, you say?
Ah, well! My sky would be more gray.
But through the clouds the sun would shine
And vital memories be mine,
God's best of manhood is, I know,
Not 'will he come,' but 'did he go.'"

THIS simple sentiment by the father of Richard Banks speaks the spirit with which these parents bore the loss of their son whose name appears on the immortal list of those who gladly gave their lives for their country. The boy expressed his own patriotism in the following letter, written after two strenuous months of camion service in France:

"From the first, this camion service, even when I was at home, was not my idea of serving my country best.. I am doing a bit, but not my bit. I've seen enough flying over here to realize its dangers, but duty first, and nothing will satisfy me in the execution of that duty but the highest service I can render. I may never qualify for a pilot, which would break my heart, but I would at least have the satisfaction of having hitched my wagon to a star."

That he did qualify satisfactorily is evidenced by the fact that but five months intervene between his enlistment in aviation and the dating of his commission. On November 18, 1917, he received his honorable discharge from T. M. U. 526 and the camion service, with which he had served since July 30th, and a fortnight later took the oath as a cadet in the air service. After much weary waiting at St. Maixent, he received his commission as Second Lieutenant on June 11, 1918, effective from May 18.

How galling this waiting was to him can best be told in Banks' own words: "And with all this going on, here we are waiting. It surely is hard. The only consolation that we have is that we are needed, and are working hard. But when you think of the gallant British and French being slaughtered this very minute, and we in this war just as much as those poor devils, enjoying life, light, and sunshine, it does n't seem right."

Before Banks could realize his ambition of active service over the front lines, a truck in which he was riding crashed over a cliff to the bottom of a twenty foot gorge, --- and a brave life was snuffed out.

A few excerpts from letters of friends tell how they mourned the loss of "Dick" Banks. "I am truly stunned by the news you sent me about Dick, whom I loved as a brother," wrote his chum. "'It can't be true' has run through me a hundred times. The disappointment and the sense of immeasurable loss is overpowering. It is not so hard to die for one's country, I feel, for such a death does much to help the loved ones left behind; but to die by accident for one's country is hard.

"Dick had a far finer patriotism and realized the bigness of the thing while we worked together more than I, for I was seeing only my own little job. And I shall cherish always his letters from the camion section. He was always eager to throw himself against the invader and despoiler and help avenge wanton destruction. Had Dick not been delayed in training camps, he would have made a name for himself in the sky, for he had the ability, the nerve, and the wonderful spirit."


Born January 20, 1896, in New York City. Son of Edmund Murray and Kate Miles Beane. Educated Albany, New York, and Wellesley Hills, Massachusetts, schools, and Concord High School, Class of 1914. Employed State Department of Education. Joined American Field Service, July 8, 1916; attached Section Nine to July 20, 1917. Enlisted French Aviation, trained Tours and Issoudun. Attached 69th French Escadrille. Commissioned First Lieutenant, U. S. Air Service, January 8, 1918, detailed with the French. Wounded in action, June 18, 1918. Croix de Guerre and D. S. C. Transferred to 22d U. S. Aero Squadron, August 27, 1918. Killed in combat north of Grandpré, October 30, 1918. Buried near Brieulles-sur-Bar, Ardennes. Body transferred to American Cemetery, Romagne-sous-Montfaucon, Meuse.

AT the Concord High School, James Dudley Beane is remembered "rather for the variety and ingenuity of his pranks than for his learning His was a rest less young spirit, waiting for some interest outside of books that should seem real to him." It was undoubtedly this wild longing for adventure that drew him in the summer of 1916 from the dull routine of business life to France and the war. As an ambulance driver in Section Nine of the American Field Service, he had an opportunity to observe the war at first hand, and to find that it was in the main as prosaic and unromantic as studying Latin or adding up figures. But, though he lost illusions, he caught in their place a splendid fire of enthusiasm for France and for the greatness and sanctity of her cause. In 1917, he entered French Aviation, but was later transferred and eventually commissioned in the American Army, being among the first American pilots to reach the front. The service, with its dangers and its glory combining to make it the most chivalric branch of the Army, appealed to his romantic and adventurous spirit, and he showed great adaptability and proficiency as a flyer. He was soon taking an active part in aerial combat with the enemy, in which work he was, in the words of his squadron commander, "vigorous and clever."

On June 30, 1918, occurred his first exploit,---a fight against overwhelming odds, in the course of which his plane was completely riddled and two fingers of his left hand shot off---rewarded by the following citation for the Croix de Guerre to the Order of the Army: "In the course of patrol duty, James Dudley Beane was attacked by several enemy planes, and although seriously wounded he succeeded in extricating himself and in bringing back his damaged machine. He showed in this circumstance much skill and great coolness." His own version of the affair, contained in a letter from the hospital, was quite different, and very characteristic: "I lost two digits in a fight some time ago," he wrote briefly, "and have been laid up in the hospital ever since."

On his return to the front he set out upon the business of bringing down Huns with redoubled energy and skill. It was not long before he became an "ace," having destroyed five enemy planes upon which official confirmation was secured. "He was quiet and modest about his achievements," says his commander " . . . . and a braver or more skillful pilot would be hard to find." On October 29, 1918, he added two more Germans to his list in an inspired fight that is officially recorded in his citation for the Distinguished Service Cross: "When Lieutenant Beane's patrol was attacked by eight enemy planes, Fokker type, he dived into their midst in order to divert their attention from the other machines of his group, and shot down one of the Fokkers in flames. Four other Fokkers then joined in the battle, one of which was also destroyed by this officer."

The next day he flew out over the lines and engaged in his last "dog fight." In the course of the combat he disappeared from view, and was for some time listed among the missing. After the Armistice, however, his name was located in the official German records as killed in action, and later his grave was found close by the wreck of the machine that he had loved and in which he had made his glorious, imperishable record, in a little hollow off the road that runs from Brieulles to St. Pierrement, in the Ardennes.


Born December 2, 1892, in Toledo, Ohio. Son of Norman Stanley and Grace Chatterton Lewis. Educated Sharon, Pennsylvania, and Cleveland, Ohio, schools; one year Michigan Agricultural College, and graduated University of Wisconsin, February, 1917. Joined American Field Service, March 12, 1917; attached Section Seventeen to September 8, 1917. Enlisted U. S. Army, December, 1917. Field Artillery School at Saumur. joined 124th Field Artillery, Second Lieutenant, July, 1918. Promoted to First Lieutenant, October 31, 1918. Killed in action by shell, October 31, 1918, in Bois de Bantheville, Argonne. Cited in American Army Orders. Buried, American Cemetery, Romagne-sous-Montfaucon, Meuse. Body to be transferred to Lakeview Cemetery, Cleveland, Ohio.

"IF I thought I could leave a name like he did, I would die easy any time." This was written of Lieutenant Stevenson Paul Lewis by one of his sergeants in the 124th Field Artillery, who added, "He was an officer in rank, but in his own heart one of the boys and we all knew it, and every one in the battery liked him . . ." "Steve's" captain spoke of the pride he felt in "having such a man as a lieutenant," and said that he served with the battery through the St. Mihiel and Argonne offensives until his death, "rendering at all times the most valuable service possible for an officer, He was on liaison work with the Infantry, and directed a great deal of the effective fire of my guns, at the same time performing important and hazardous missions for the Infantry, which required skill, coolness, and bravery, and often took him within the German lines." Lieutenant Nedrow of his regiment wrote, " Lieutenant Lewis was not afraid of the devil himself . . . . . I think he died as he would have wanted to, at the front facing the enemy . . . . . I can not express our loss,---the loss of a great big boy pal."

Similar ability and popularity had been Steve's in high school, at Michigan where he spent a year, and at Wisconsin where he received his degree, being on the track and football teams, a fraternity man, and several times a class officer. Again, when he volunteered in the Field Service a month after graduation and before America entered the war, he won many close friends by his quiet reliability and sturdiness of character. He shared in that effort which secured the section a divisional citation.

"He was a great lover of nature," wrote Steve's father, "and was happiest when out on a long tramp or roughing it as a harvester in the Dakotas or Kansas, for it was in this way that he spent two of his summers." Abroad, too, his preference was for the strenuous, outdoor life, and he made a game of his participation in the war, playing it with all his heart and soul. As one of his men naively wrote: "he was wise to the war game and we were blessed when he was assigned to us."

A course at the artillery school at Saumur followed the completion of Steve's enlistment term in the Field Service, and he joined the 124th Field Artillery as a Second Lieutenant. The colonel spoke of his zeal in asking always for the most hazardous tasks. Steve remained for sixteen days with the attacking infantry at one time, it requesting "to remain when the other liaison officers were replaced. Of his narrow escapes he said, "I am lucky, I guess, also, I 'play' the shells." His one fear was that he might be called back to a school as an instructor: "To be sent back there would be the biggest disappointment possible now that this outfit is in the line, and though it may be considered a reward, it is no place to be with any fighting going on . . . . . I only hope they don't get me." His fearlessness was almost a love of danger. On a permission he climbed Mont Blanc alone, for "the reason that it involved a chance was enough." In June, 1917, he had volunteered and served with the brancardiers when he was off duty as an ambulance driver.

Having gone untouched with the Infantry through numerous attacks, Steve was killed by a shell on October 31, 1918, as he went forward to an observation post to adjust his battery's fire. In September he had written: "I hope the end will come soon, but I will never leave the line until I am absolutely incapable of any service, ---then perhaps I can help in the S. O. S. in France. You must wait until it's all over before I return." Steve did not return home, but, as the regimental chaplain said, "He made the noblest sacrifice upon God's highest altar."


Born May 17, 1895, in Revere, Massachusetts. Son of E. Arthur and Edith Robinson Tutein. Educated Winchester High School and Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Class of 1918. Joined American Field Service, June 20, 1917; attached Transport Section 526 until November 19, 1917. Enlisted U.S. Aviation as cadet, January 5, 1918. Trained Tours, St. Maixent, Issoudun, and St. Jean des Monts. Commissioned Second Lieutenant, May 18, 1918; attached 185th Aero, Squadron, November 11, 1918. Killed in aeroplane accident, November 17, 1918. Buried at Souilly, Meuse.

IF ever man was asked to serve his country by waiting,---irritating, eternal waiting while he longed to be striving at the front,--- such a one was Chester Robinson Tutein. In the autumn of 1917 after three months with a camion section of the Field Service he decided to enter aviation, but, urged by the commander of the Reserve Mallet, he remained, with others who wished to leave, until their places were filled in November. Immediately Chester applied, but it was January before he was allowed to enlist as a private in the air service. Meantime he did whatever work they could give him at the aviation headquarters in Paris. Then for five months after his enlistment he waited for assignment as a cadet to an instruction center, doing "kitchen police" duty in camp. Training lasted from June until November and not until Armistice Day was he assigned to his pursuit squadron. Less than a week later he was killed in an accident. Yet as truly as if it had occurred in combat Chester died in his country's cause.

"Chet" had many friends at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology when he left in his junior year for France and drove a truck in Section 526 through the summer, near Soissons. After this began his weary struggle to reach the front as a pilot. With good reason one of his classmates speaks of "the fine spirit he showed in going after his commission in the face of so much hard luck" and of his "pluck in sticking to it."

Chester sometimes wrote bitterly of his imagined shortcomings and laziness, but through it all, as Lieutenant Gilbert, a fellow aviator, wrote, he had "pep all the time to cheer one on," and his commanding officer mentions especially that "he was always willing and cheerful about his work." His spontaneous humor made many a dull hour endurable for his comrades while for himself he said, " I have been a full-fledged army cook for two weeks and it has given me something to live for."

"Chet" joked about his weariness, his work, his play, and about death. Late in October he wrote: "I will either be an ace in a month or pushing up daisies." He could be serious, too, for when a pilot and his observer crashed, he said: "Thank the Lord I have nobody riding with me . . . . . I do not wish to have my mistakes result in any other body's suffering." His writing was full of lively touches and, loving flying, he often caught with vigorous simplicity the feeling of it, as when he said, "The horizon seems to curve up and form a deep saucer with you flying over the center of it."

The front was reached too late for Chester to do battle. Others thought immediately of getting home, but he anticipated months of policing the Rhine, for him homecoming also must wait. He was impatient only at the idleness. "Much more of this life," he wrote, disgusted, "will be about my finish," and next day while flying he seemed to lose control, spun straight to the ground, and was killed. "He went up in a Sopwith Camel . . . . . . played low and stunted close to the ground in a most wonderful exhibition of flying . . . . . Returning, something went wrong and he fell."

It seems a cruel, unreasonable end for such patient service, but in the steadfastness of spirit which kept "Chet" at his tasks however aimless and petty in seeming, is a real heroism finer than much loudly acclaimed in the war. The father of one of his chums, writing to Chester's father, voiced the faith that had been "Chet's" and which his whole life justified. "It is not Taps with which we lay them to rest, but the glorious notes of a divine Reveille for those who wake to see the Sun, for those who face the Morning."


Born February 5, 1894, in Charlestown, Massachusetts. Son of John A. and Mary Jane Coughlin Brickley. Home, Charlestown, Massachusetts. Educated Boston Latin School, Harvard University, Class of 1916, two years and College de Rennes, France, two months. Plattsburg Camp, 1915. With Finance Committee, Boy Scouts of America. Joined American Field Service, June 30, 1917; attached Section Seventy-one to August 31, 1917. Enlisted U. S. Army Ambulance Service, Section 644 (ex-32). Croix de Guerre. Died of pneumonia, December 9, 1918, in field hospital at Appilly, Oise, southwest of Chauny. Buried at Ploisy, Aisne. Body to be returned to America.

ARTHUR BRICKLEY, although born with a frail body, made what might have been a handicap only a further incentive to achievement. One of his masters writes in the Boston Latin School Register of February, 1919:

"Looking back ten years, we remember him as a slight, delicate boy, driven by a courage and energy which always threatened to burn out his life before it had well begun. It was this very courage, however, which carried him in spite of poor health through this school and made light of the hardships of foreign service."

He had completed two years of his course at Harvard when he was compelled to abandon his studies on account of ill health. In the summer of 1915 he attended the first Plattsburg Training Camp and from January to June 1917, gave himself devotedly to secretarial work with the Finance Committee of the Boy Scouts. This work completed, he enlisted in the American Field Service and sailed for France.

Attached to Section Seventy-One he spent the rainy summer of 1917 on the Somme front near St. Quentin, in the desolate region which had been so recently occupied by the German forces. One of his comrades from this Section writes: "Brickley lived in my tent along with a dozen others during that dreary summer and I never saw him lose his temper or say a bad word against anyone. I remember a bunch of us peeling potatoes one morning in the rain. Everyone was growling and crabbing except Brickley who still kept his cheerfulness. He was always willing to help anyone and never failed to volunteer to substitute on duty if a man was sick." He spoke French fluently, having at one time attended for a few months the Collège de Rennes, France, and no matter with what French division his section was serving he became at once immensely popular with both officers and men.

At the breaking up of the old volunteer service he enlisted in the U. S. Army Ambulance Service and was transferred to S. S. U. 644, formerly Thirty-Two of the Field Service. The following is quoted from the letter of a fellow member of this Section: "It was during the year that followed that I came to realize, as did we all, his generosity, his love of right and fearlessness of wrong, above all his wonderful optimism that never failed."

Of his death the same friend writes: "During the last advance he was seized with influenza and evacuated to a field hospital near Chauny. To the very last he retained his optimistic esprit in spite of the fact that his sickness developed into pneumonia. He fought gamely for a month and then finally was forced to give in, on the ninth of December, 1918. He died knowing that the cause to which he had given his life had not been fought in vain. Nor would it have been in vain had his cause failed, for the inspiration he gave to us in living and in dying is one we shall carry through life."

Excepting the brilliant citation for the Croix de Guerre awarded him for courageous service under fire during the attacks of early September, 1918, there could be no finer tribute to his memory than the words spoken at his grave by Médecin Principal Michel of the 37th Infantry Division, which concludes as follows:

"Nous avons tous connu et aimé ce jeune conducteur qui est venu spontanément offrir son coeur, ses jours, sa vie à la France en péril. Partout il s'est signalé par son zèle, son dévouement, son excellent humeur, son sentiment très élevé du devoir.

"Il n'a quitte le service que terrassé par la maladie qui devait le ravir à l'estime de ses chefs, à l'amitié de ses camarades, a l'affection de sa famille.

"Au nom du Service de Santé de la Division que vous avez si noblement servi, Conducteur Brickley, adieu!"

Memorial, 8/8
Alphabetical Index of Names
Table of Contents: History of the American Field Service in France.