Boomers and Millennials lead charge on medical marijuana

What are you going to do when you retire, Mike?

Go south of the border and get stoned all the time.

Really?

Really.

Not really. I've been retired almost two weeks and I have yet to get in my car and drive the 45 miles to Marijuanaville (a.k.a. Fort Collins). Greeley is just as close. I hear they're setting up a dispensary in Wellington, which is even closer. Thing is, once you get into Colorado, marijuana abounds. But I had to ask myself an important question. Once I was stoned, what next? As a 20-year-old stoner, my options were unlimited.  I could hang out with friends, sit around listening to music, go to a concert (if anyone was lucid enough to drive), eat a bag of Fritos, get laid, nap. As a 65-year-old stoner, only the last one is realistic. I have Cheech-and-Chong-style visions of me, wrapped in a pot cloud, driving my old guy car at 10 mph down a Colorado highway, getting busted by The Man. I'd get thrown in the clink, and then have to call to the wife.

It's a bummer, man.

Who is this?

Your old man, man.

Why you calling me man, old man?

I got busted down here in Colorado. Driving under the influence of Purple People Eater. Stoned. Immaculate, as Jim used to say.

Call Jim -- maybe he'll bail you out.

Bummer.

Recreational marijuana -- not for us geezers.

Medical marijuana is another story. We oldsters suffer from many maladies. To name them all would take too long. Some of them, however, could be eased by the THC in ganja. When my father in Florida was dying from cancer and not eating, my brothers and I joked that we should get him high so he'd get the munchies. Problem is, we were adults then and didn't want to break the law. And all of our sources had grown up too and were getting high on real estate and not pot. I just heard this morning that Florida has enough signatures to get medical marijuana on its ballot. Rejoice all you old surfers who can no longer paddle out to the line-up. Help is on the way for aching joints.

Any Wyomingite interested in signing our own medical marijuana petition should come out the the Democratic Party POTluck FUNdraiser this Sunday, Jan. 31, 5-8 p.m., at Joe's house in Cheyenne at 3626 Dover Road. Some amazing brownies will be supplied by yours truly and my Dem cohorts. Bring a dish to share, if you are so inclined. We'll also talk about House Bill 3, Rep. Jim Byrd's effort to begin the decriminalization process. It's doomed in this legislative session. But as Kerry Drake wrote in his Tuesday WyoFile column:

It’s not legal to toke up in Wyoming yet, but the day is coming sooner than many might think. 

Read more at http://www.wyofile.com/column/wyoming-will-eventually-benefit-from-medical-marijuana/

I don't have any stats, but anecdotal evidence shows that the over-65 crowd of Baby Boomers and those in the Millennials cohort are most likely to support medical marijuana. The old and the young -- finding common cause at last.

See you Sunday at Joe's house.

Never too late for a wellness class

Chris and I are attending a wellness class at the YMCA.

The class uses a text entitled "Living a Healthy Life with Chronic Conditions." It outlines self-management tools based on "an ongoing series of studies conducted at Stanford University School of Medicine." Stanford, founded by robber baron Leland Stanford, is known for many things. It helped spawn the computer revolution, trained numerous NFL players and sponsors a kooky marching band (go you Cardinal!). And I have nothing against robber barons -- with them we wouldn't have Stanford's Wallace Stenger poetry fellowships, the many Carnegie libraries that taught generation to love books, and Grand Teton National Park (thanks Rockefeller family). Our current crop of high-tech billionaires seem to be trying to follow in the footsteps of their elders, although our grandkids will have to judge their legacies.

I'd be lying if I said the book's Stanford connection didn't impress me. There are some elitist bones in my body. But the book is a good and helpful and logical. We all need self-management skills when it comes to our health. Too often, we don't sail our own ship, health-wise, and that leads to many problems down the line -- heart disease, arthritis, diabetes, asthma and, as the book notes, "other physical and mental health conditions." Notice that latter term -- mental health conditions. The book stresses links between physical and mental health. Very important. You really can't have one without the other.

Pages 8-9 lists the management skills recommended for an array of chronic conditions. Categories include pain management, fatigue management, breathing techniques, relaxation and managing emotions, nutrition, exercise and medications. Notice that "medications" is last? I did. I take a boatload of meds for my heart disease, but also pay attention to the other categories, especially exercise and nutrition. I would like to wean myself off some heart meds. This is a challenge, as the drug lobby is adamant we use its products and never get off of them. Out docs are complicit in this strategy. They may also need this wellness class.

The series of six classes are led by two women who were trained in the process. Each class involves note-taking and brainstorming and action plans. We often choose partners to work on action plans. Our workshop leaders call during the week to check up on our progress, or lack of it.

Is the class worth it? Not sure, as I'm only halfway through. I probably will miss the last two sessions, as I'm getting a new knee Feb. 3. Takes a good month to get back in the action. But wellness is important and I wish that I'd taking it seriously sooner. At 65, I have several chronic conditions: heart disease, arthritis, depression. A better lifestyle would have spared me the heart condition. Arthritis and bad knees show the wear-and-tear of time, and many years of basketball and running. Depression runs in the family.

I'd like to sum up by saying something memorable about living life to the fullest. Must be a gazillion quotes and thousands of memes on the subject.

Here's one: "Be here now," coined by writer/philosopher Ram Dass for his book of the same name..

Here's another: "One day at a time," something I heard once or twice at Twelve-Step meetings.

"So it goes" from Kurt Vonnegut.

So what else was going on 100 years ago?

Sabino Osuna, "Felicistas in the YMCA," ca. 1910-1914, photograph, courtesy of Sweeney Art Gallery and Special Collections Library, University of California, Riverside. Part of the Mexico at the Hour of Combat: Sabino Osuna’s Photographs of the Mexican Revolution, , now at the UNM Maxwell Museum of Anthropology in Albuquerque.

Chloe Courtney is one of the excellent writers and art historians who write for Adobe Airstream: Art, Music and Film from the West. She penned the following review in A2's Nov./Dec. issue. It caught my attention for several reasons. One, the photo is startling, with its group of gunman by the window of a YMCA in Mexico. Second, my wife works for the local Y, and I spent some time imagining a group of revolutionaries or counter-revolutionaries using the Y as a gun emplacement against... who, liberals streaming over the border from Colorado? Third, my grandfather, Raymond Shay, was with Pershing on the Mexican border, allegedly there to keep Pancho Villa and his irregulars on the southern side of the demarcation line (more about this in future posts). Finally, it alerted me to an excellent exhibit in the Rocky Mountain region that I may travel to in my retirement. If I can get there before it closes on Jan. 31.

Here's a snippet of the piece entitled "How to View the Mexican Revolution:"

In the photograph “Felicistas in the YMCA,” snipers crouch near a window in a rubble-strewn room and train their weapons on the street below, and yet, the title informs us, this violent scene takes place in a former community center.

The photograph appears in the exhibition Mexico at the Hour of Combat: Sabino Osuna’s Photographs of the Mexican Revolution, on view at the University of New Mexico’s Maxwell Museum of Anthropology. It defies an otherwise chronological and thematic structure following the revolution and developments in Osuna’s photography. Located at the entrance of the exhibition, the image reveals a curatorial strategy to make the subject of the Mexican Revolution accessible for a US viewership. Some Americans may not recognize the names of revolutionary leaders Pancho Villa or Emiliano Zapata, but they know the YMCA, and likely experience the shock of seeing a familiar community center occupied by gunmen.

Mexico at the Hour of Combat shows, for the first time, a group of documentary photographs from UC Riverside Libraries Special Collections and Archives. This collection comprises 427 glass negatives of Sabino Osuna’s documentary photographs of the Mexican Revolution, 56 of which have been selected for inclusion in the exhibition.

The show includes compelling portraits of key figures of the Revolution, as well as powerful documentation of the brutal violence of the war, and images constructed to craft a new Mexican identity. As a whole, the exhibition importantly works to combat the under-representation of Mexican arts in U.S. cultural institutions, and seeks to draw attention to the Mexican Revolution as an important player in our understanding of revolution and resistance today. 

An arts administrator retires

I enjoyed my retirement party.

Friends and coworkers gathered to see me off Friday with munchies and cake. My colleague and ace baker Rachel made the cake, a chocolate confection that melted in my mouth as I licked the frosting off of my fingers. I recommend that you look up Laramie's Red Chair Bakery on Facebook. 

It's the people. Always. You work side-by-side with humans for years and then, suddenly, they're gone, or you are, and you cease to see each other every day to compare notes, complain about the state of the world, and seek solace when life goes off the rails. A workplace is a family, with all of it wonderful and dysfunctional attributes. On retirement day (R-Day) you tend to remember the warmth and wonderfulness and forget about the stressful times. Arts workers tend to be a tight-skit subculture, possibly because we work in an arcane field and possibly because the arts draws temperamental people. Am I moody and strange? You betcha. But I am also congenial and collegial. I read recently about a group labeled extroverted introverts. They are introverts who welcome the Great Big World in short bursts, and then have to retreat to marshal their emotional forces. That's me. As a writer and reader, I require plenty of alone time. But, as an arts administrator and communicator, I have to deal with people -- in my case, everyone in the state of Wyoming. As a political animal, I am charged to do the same thing. Now sometimes, I am forced to admit to myself that "I hate the living," the phrase made famous by the woman coroner in "Men in Black." Yes, the living can be a pain. They also are a source of joy. Introverts learn how to strike a balance or we will go crazy (and sometimes do). 

How did I end up working in the arts? Glad you asked. When I attended graduate school at the ripe old age of 37, my intention was to get an M.F.A. in creative writing and teach the subject in the hallowed halls of academe. When I left the corporate PR world for grad school, my coworkers gifted me a bull whip for my students and advised me that my very un-corporate attire of tweed jackets with elbow patches would serve me well. My boss told me that it was too bad as I was leaving, as he had selected me as his next project. My boss, you see, was bored as his most recent "project" had been shown the door a few weeks earlier. Who said there was no dark humor in the corporate world?

In academe, I discovered a wonderful coterie of like-minded people with whom I could share my creative vision. I also learned how to teach in a college classroom. The bullwhip was out – drat. I was challenged by a new generation of students raised on Ronald Reagan and Mario Brothers and anime. As an extroverted introvert, I discovered people skills. I was volunteered for the university's fine arts committee. I liked hanging out with professional writers and arranging their readings and workshops. I assisted Etheridge Knight with a poetry workshop at the county slammer (Etheridge had experience in the joint). I hung out with Larry Heinemann and Gwendolyn Brooks and Joy Harjo and David Lee. I learned how to write grants, although my first attempt was a failure. I discovered that there were such things as state arts agencies and that Colorado had one. I applied for the Colorado Arts Council’s (now called Colorado Creative Industries) roster and received my first assignment, which was a gig in a school in a windswept eastern plains town. Had I remained in my home state, this would have prepared me for life in the high prairie of Wyoming. And that’s where I landed a job as arts administrator with the Wyoming Arts Council. I was unqualified, but was hired anyway, thanks to Joy Thompson, who immediately left for another job. Fortunately, my new colleagues were patient and taught me the ropes. I wrote successful grants to the National Endowment for the Arts. Two years later, I was hired for a two-year gig by the NEA. As assistant director of the literature program, I learned tons about the national arts scene, and carried that back with me to Wyoming.

What does one say about a career? It included triumphs and terrible failures. When I set off for grad school, family in tow, my one-and-only literary agent, Ray Powers, advised me to just stay at home and write. I didn’t listen. I knew myself enough to know that I would not thrive as a lonely writer tapping away at home. I struggle with depression, and life in my basement office was a recipe for disaster. I lacked confidence in my ability to make a living as a fiction writer. How would I support my family? My memories were haunted by my father and his problems as a bread-winner. Yes, he had nine children to support but he also had a wife with her own career as a nurse and hospital administrator. She always yearned to write a book about her “damn hospital,” which was part “Peyton Place” soap opera, part Paddy Chayevsky’s lunatic asylum of “The Hospital.” She died too young and never got the chance to write that book.

Did I make the right career choices? I was a newspaper reporter and editor, a PR guy, a freelance writer and an arts administrator. I remain a fiction writer. People are complicated beasts and I am no less so. I am dubious when people say they have no regrets. How can you live a long life in a complicated world and not have regrets? In the end, all fuel for the creative fire.

Dems hold POTluck FUNdraiser Jan. 31 in Cheyenne

This invitation comes from Kathleen Petersen, president of the Laramie County Democratic Grassroots Coalition: 

The Laramie County Democratic Grassroots Coalition is sponsoring a POTluck FUNdraiser to kick off the election year of 2016. It will be on Sunday, January 31, from 5-8 p.m. at 3626 Dover Road, Cheyenne.  

Bring your signature food dish to enter into a contest to win GREAT prizes, which include three months membership at the YMCA, a free haircut by Joe Corrigan or a bottle of wine. The winners will be decided by attendees buying tickets to vote on their favorite dish. There will also be a 50/50 raffle.  

Our local legislators will bring us current legislative information, and a representative from NORML Wyoming will do a presentation about the petition initiative for medical marijuana (the petition will be available for signing).  

Grassroots Executive Board members will provide the desserts, which include their own special brownies. Also, if you haven't joined the Grassroots Coalition for this year, bring your membership money.

If you need a ride to the event, or need further information, contact Kathleen, 307-421-4496. Plan to come out and start our new year off right. 

See you Sunday, Jan. 31, It promises to be a fun and fact filled evening.

The Great War in publishing

I spent the past couple months immersed in World War I.

My first task was to reformat my paternal grandmother's World War I diary for Blogger. For those of you unfamiliar with blogging platforms, Blogger is the grizzled old man of the Blogosphere. Me, in other words, a member in good standing of Seniors Wildly Indignant About Nearly Everything (SWINE). To this, I give a tip of the hat to Al Capp, who first coined the term in his L'il Abner comic strip, although the original SWINE was about "Students" and not "Seniors." Of course, the students of that era are now the retired cohort. See how things work out?

WordPress is the corporate middle manager of the web. Anyone who is anyone uses WordPress because it is so damn good, flexible yet complicated. There may be an up-and-coming (hipster) platform of the blogging world but what do I know -- I'm 65 and ready to step away from the workaday world.

My grandmother's WWI diary was first transferred to MS Word by my sister Eileen Shay Casey in Winter Park, Fla. In its original form, the diary was a tiny, battered notebook, held together by a strip of duct tape. Eileen was challenged to read the tiny handwriting, but did a wonderful getting it into e-shape.

From there, I broke it into nine sections, and then cut-and-pasted it into Blogger. To make sure that it appeared with the proper formatting, I had to lay in the copy in the html protocol, and then go back to the editing controls and reformat. This became important later on when I uploaded the blog posts to the Shared Book site (also known as blog2print) and created a print book of the diary entries. This is a publishing platform for bloggers, one I've used on several occasions. It's not the best way to publish your deathless prose (or poetry). But it is a way to print things such as diaries, family histories, memorials, etc. In my day job as Literary Guru for the State of Wyoming, I'm often asked, "Hey Mike, how do I publish my book?" I reply, "Have you written it yet?" The answer often is "No, but...." There's the rub. Wannabe writers often jump right to publishing before they actually write the book. This is putting the cart before the horse, as my Iowa grandfather might have said.,

There are many publishing platforms these days. Your challenge (and mine) is to find the right one.

But back to World War I. While formatting Grandma's (we called her Mudder) diary, I researched the history of medical units, army bands, the Meuse-Argonne Offensive and a score of other topics. I have read widely on the war. But I keep going back to its creative writing. The war itself lasted four years and a few months. The U.S. was involved about a year and a half, but wasn't engaged in combat until the war's last year -- 1918.

As a writer, I can only grasp the global span of the war through the eyes of those who were there. And what a group of writers were engaged in the struggle. Ernest Hemingway, Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon, Erich Marie Remarque, Jaroslav Hasek, Vera Mary Brittain. Their influence can be traced to the writers of all subsequent wars, all the way up to the current troubles in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Some historians have belittled the experiences of the war's tormented poets and writers. Not everyone saw combat in the trenches -- and told the tale in gruesome realism. To base your view of the war on Owen's "Dulce et Decorum est" is understandable but unrealistic.

But war is a human story. Regular folks are cast into big events. Their experiences are those events as experienced in the heart and mind of one person. How else can we understand? Some poets celebrated the heroics of The Great War: Jessie Pope (from a distance), Rupert Brooke, Joyce Kilmer. Some of them also died (Brooke and Kilmer). What were they thinking as death's icy fingers gripped their hearts?

We don't know. But we do know what other hearts experienced. Those people included my paternal grandmother, Florence Green Shay of the U.S. Army Nurse Corps. To read her diary, start at http://hummingbirdminds.blogspot.com/2015/11/part-i-mudders-world-war-i-diary.html.

What is on my plate for 2016

What I'm looking forward to in 2016....

Retirement. On Jan. 15, I will work my last day at the Wyoming Arts Council in Cheyenne. I was among the fortunate to have a job that I loved. I depart the WAC on the eve of its 50th birthday, which comes up in 2017. It has nurtured the arts throughout the state. Sure, I'm a liberal artsmonger, but Wyoming's cultural world would not be what it is today without all of us working toward the same goals. It took me awhile to shut up and listen when I went into communities, to find out what their residents wanted instead of telling them what was best. This is a good strategy for all of us. In fact, if I were asked for my hard-earned advice on the matter, I would reply, "Just listen."

Publishing. I have a roomful of written work awaiting publishing. To date, I have published one book of short stories and numerous stories and essays in magazines and journals. But there remains a lot of work that's yet to see the light of day and the eyeballs of readers. Suire, I've been sending stuff out. But the act of writing is comprised of several full-time jobs. First, the creation. Second, the publishing. Third, the promotion. During my career as a professional writer/editor/bureaucrat, I've been able to do the creation part. But those other two parts? Not so much. It was fascinating to hear Kent Nelson's publishing strategy at last summer's Wyoming Writers, Inc., conference in Cheyenne. Kent, a one-time squash champion and lapsed attorney, keeps his stories circulating, up to 20 at a time. When one is rejected, he sends it back out into the world. In this way, he's managed to publish many books and scores of stories. But it takes time, and attention, and that's what I plan to do with my new-found time and my lagging attention span.

Presidential elections. Yes, I also cringe when I think about it. Republican bloviators such a Trump make me fear for the future of our republic. "Make America Hate Again" is not a winning slogan. As one who has blogged frequently about the paranoid excesses of U.S. conservatives, I am not surprised that Trump has found a footing among them. Scared Old White People (SOWP) make up his base. As an Old White Person (OWP) myself, I am glad to report that I am not among the scaredy-cats.

Traveling. I have traveled extensively in the U.S., at least traipsing through all of the states in the lower 48. But I've only been overseas twice. I plan to remedy that in retirement, with trips planned to Italy and Mexico with more to come. Chris and I are curious travelers. Maybe I should say that, as travelers, we value curiosity. When we find ourselves in a new place, we like to roam around and check it out. Never know what you'll find.

Afterword: Mudder's World War I diary

Florence Green (a.k.a Mudder) celebrated her 26th birthday in France in 1918.

Normally, being in your twenties in France and celebrating a birthday would be cause for joy. And perhaps it was. But there was a war on, which complicated things. She was a nurse on the front lines of one of the most destructive wars in history.

Have you ever been young and in a war zone far away from home? I haven't, but I have been young and far away from home, missing my parents and siblings and yearning for a lost love. That's all you need to know, really, about Florence Green's nine months overseas in 1918-1919. She was young and lonely -- but also engaged in a great adventure that was part of a larger misadventure.

I am no historian. But I am a blogger and, as such, I have no shortage of opinions. However, the more I learn about World War I, the more I know -- and don't know. That pretty much sums up the aging process. The more I learn, the more I find that I don't know.

This is as true of world events as it is of family history. I first knew Florence Green Shay in the 1950s growing up in Denver. We called her Mudder because that was my toddler-style mispronouncing of Grandmother or Grandma or whatever other name I was trying to spit out of my young mouth. She was stuck with it the rest of her life. Mudder was a bridge-playing Denver matron She drove around town in an Edsel. She and my grandfather, Raymond Shay, lived in the Park Hill neighborhood which, over the years, has become one of Denver's swankier addresses. Grandpa was known as Big Danny, another one of my inventions, giving him the title of Danny Senior because my brother was little Danny. It all begins to make sense if you look at it through the imagination of a young child with delusions of becoming a writer.

It wasn't until later that I knew about my grandparents' war experiences. Both products of The Great War, or the First World War. Much was made of Big Danny's experience. He was a cavalry officer with the Iowa National Guard, mobilized to fight Pancho Villa on the Mexican border and then sent to France with the American Expeditionary Force (A.E.F). His basement held many trophies of the war. Guns and bayonets, battle flags and medals.

Mudder was a nurse in the same war. But it was decades before we knew of her experiences. She spoke little of her time in the U.S. Army Nurse Corps. She spoke in general terms of her shipboard trip to England and then to France. She dated a slew of officers, as American women were in short supply, and made fudge during her downtime as evacuation hospitals near the front. Nothing as exciting as my grandfather riding a horse into battle, flag waving, bullets zipping over his head. As far as I know, he actually never rode a horse into battle due to German machine guns, a new invention that made cavalry charges extinct.

Mudder had a diary. When I first read passages from it decades ago, I was disappointed. No chronicles of treating the dead and dying. A few notes about air raids, but no pyrotechnics, no sights and sounds and details. As a writer, I looked for those details. I was raised on World War II novels and memoirs. First-hand chronicles of the Vietnam War were appearing in bookstores. Mudder's calm chronicles paled in comparison.

Now that I'm 65, I can look back at her diary in wonder. I've kept a journal since I was 21. It's no mean feat to write daily, even a bigger challenge in a war zone, I suspect. Mudder worked long shifts in the hospital wards. Artillery fire lit up the nights. German planes dropped bombs. The wounded arrived with regularity. Over in the trenches, a horseless Big Danny fought the Huns. The two hadn't met yet but both were in the war zone. It would be the cavalry man's experiences we knew best.

Until now. My sister Eileen Shay Casey got her hands on our grandmother's lone surviving diary. Eileen has always loved history, which is why she got a nursing degree from University of Central Florida (LOL). She was urged into nursing by our mother, the nurse. After working a few years in hospitals and the death of our mother from cancer at 59, Eileen quit the medical field for a career in the non-profit world of foundations and grant-writing and fund-raising.

That love of history never deserted her. She transcribed Mudder's diary. She put out the word about her work and heard from an historian at the University of Maryland, Dr, Marian Moser Jones. Dr. Jones was intrigued by Mudder's diary since she was working on a book about WWI nurses trained in the University of Maryland system. With Microsoft Word versions of the diary and Dr. Jones' research notes, I posted Mudder's diary entries on this blog from Nov. 25 to Dec. 20, 2015. I now am working on a print version of the diary for family members and other interested parties. Once it's formatted, I will share the link on these pages.

Mudder's fudge recipe survives. As does her beat-up old diary which we hope will find a permanent home in the University of Maryland archives. Her memories will live forever that way, much as her DNA lives on in us.

We all make our tiny footprints on this big world.

Part IX: Mudder's World War I diary

December 26 
Happier today than I have been for some time, got a letter from Peany and such a sweet one too, also one from E with a handkerchief in it. Goldie is sick in bed Ward #2, hope she will be well by the 2nd.

December 27 
Met a man from Evac #3, invited me to a dance at #79. Got two more letters from P, he is dear all right, to bed early.

December 28 
Mail today, just a Xmas card. Went to a dance, had a fairly good time.

December 29 
Some of our officers are going back to the States, leave tomorrow, they sure are lucky. Rained all day for a change.

December 30
Another disappointment today. Leah can’t go on leave.

December 31 
Went to the New Year’s Eve dance, had a real good time. Orders came that 42 would be replaced; suppose that means we will all go home. I wonder if I am going to get to go on my leave.

January 1, 1919 
Got my orders to go on leave, thank goodness I am safe then. Off for Toul on the train. Only 2 hours late, got in Toul, stayed all night at the Red Cross, made some fudge to take along.

January 2 
Trains supposed to leave for Paris at 800am but left 1030. Met some officers that came over on the ship with us. Took Miss Saxelby and I to dinner. We arrived at Paris at 600pm. Had the dickens of a time to get a taxi, finally did, went to the Continental and thought rooms had been engaged but they had not, but while standing there, in walked Peany, bless his heart, he made us take his room, he met a colonel he knew so he went in with him. We had a wonderful dinner.

January 3 
Had breakfast in bed, then we started out, we went to different shops, had lunch at the Marlborough tearoom. Met P at 2pm, but in the meantime, met Miss Hines, chatted a while with her. Got on the train for Nice at 6pm, started about 8. I had a seat but poor P only had a small seat until 5am, such a dirty tiresome trip.

January 4 
Landed in Nice at 6pm, cleaned and had dinner, who should I meet, the first thing but LHM Went to bed early that night and such a storm.

January 5 
Took a walk, went to the station to make reservations to leave next Saturday, we finally did. The Mediterranean was quite rough this day; the storm had done a lot of damage.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday 
Went to dances, took long walks, did some shopping. Found the best place to eat breakfast, could get the best waffles. Walked up a very steep hill, could see the Alps which were with snow. The last of the week the Mediterranean was very calm and just as warm as could be. Sure hated to come back to Bazoilles. Saturday Left for Paris, arrived Sunday 10am, went to the Continental. Sure was sick, had dinner, went to bed and got up for supper and then went to bed, got up at 630am.

Monday 
Train left for Chaumont, arrived 315, got in Neuf. At 715, waited there 2 hours for a train to B, dead tired, such a trip. P stayed in Neuf.

Tuesday 
Had the whole day off, went to Neuf, met P, we had lunch, then he came out to the base with me, had tea, he left 5pm. All alone again and such news when I came back. We are attached to Evac 21, all the men of 42 are going home, can you beat it. I am homesick, I want to go home. Got 72 letters today.

Wednesday 
On duty in #17, mumps ward, such a life, sure want to go home.

Thursday 
Made P some fudge today and sent it to him, hope he gets it.

Friday 
Went to the dance, had a real nice time but came home early.

Saturday, Sunday, Monday 
Nothing exciting happen, same old mud hole.

Tuesday January 21 
Had the whole day off, went to Neuf today, bought wool to make a sweater, and took a walk with Steve, no news about going home, expect to be here this time next year.

Wednesday January 22 
On duty most of day

Thursday January 23 
Little excitement today. The nurses who wish to remain in France had to sign up, looks like we are going home. Who should walk into our hospital today, no one but Peany. Was making fudge for Steve and Leah but Peany got most of it, he is being transferred near Dijon. We went to Neuf for dinner, I sure did miss a good dance.

Friday, January 24 
Am real glad I did not go to the dance, an accident, 2 nurses with fractured ribs, suppose I would have been the unfortunate one if I had went to our dance at night.

Saturday January 25 
Not much news but I really do think we are going home, our trunks were marked today.

Sunday January 26 
Al last the news has arrived. We leave Tuesday morning, am so excited. Leah was to have her leave Tuesday, she is disappointed. Lots of mail today.

Monday January 27 
Went to Neuf today, bought a few things to take home and some lunch. Goldie bought a beautiful ring. Made a lot of fudge to take on our trip. The nurses remaining are about 38, gave BH 42 nurses a farewell dinner, the music was great. I had Dr. Wood over from 46. He invited me over to a chicken supper and dance Tuesday night. I am out of luck, but so much nicer to go home.

Tuesday January 28 
Gotten up mighty early, trunks carryalls, and suitcases have gone. 6am train did not come in till late. Went to tea in the afternoon, had some music, got on the train 11pm and did not pull out till 4am, such a mess,. 3rd class compartments, no heat, old hard wood benches, and they tell me we have a three day trip before us.

Wednesday January 29 
Sitting on the sidetrack most of the day, the rate we are going I think we will be about 10 days. I am so tired; all we ate is sardines, bread.

Thursday January 30 
I think an American engine has been put on, we have been speeding, just a little. I sure feel punk.

Tuesday January 31 
We have gone about 2/3 of the way, we probably reach St. Nazaire Sunday, such a life, no water, no heat, no nothing.

Wednesday February 1, 1919 
Arrived at St. Nazaire 2pm, went over to the Red Cross for sandwiches and cocoa and then were carried about 8 miles in trucks to La Baule. A beautiful hotel, but no heat, I had a great bath and a good dinner and to bed.

Sunday February 2 
Took a long walk along the Atlantic beach, had tea in a clean little place and got warm at the Red Cross.

Monday 
Today we got orders to pack, we leave in the morning for Brest, wonder if we will ever sail. Did some shopping today. Gee, I’ll be glad when I get home.

Tuesday 
An all day trip in the train but great deal better than our last trip. Arrived at Base 65 at 11pm, we were put in a large barracks, no sheets, pillowcases or anything.

Wednesday 
Not allowed off the grounds. Had tea at 3pm in the hut

Thursday 
Play cards or knit. That’s all we have to do.

Friday 
No orders yet, have finished my sweater.

Saturday 
Learning to play bridge, rather interesting. Went AWOL to the nearby village, bought the cutest wooden shoes.

Sunday 
Went to church, nothing exciting. Is happening. Rumors but no real news.

Monday 
Moved to another barracks today, much more comfortable.

Tuesday 
Took a walk in the village today.

Wednesday 
Went across the river in a rowboat, real nice time. Had a dandy minstrel show here at night.

Thursday, Friday 
Played bridge mostly all day.

Sailing………

Meanwhile, back in the States. This information is from research by Dr. Marian Moser Jones of the University of Maryland:

On March 10, 1919, Green arrived back in New York with many other nurses from her unit.

She returned to Baltimore, greeted by hundreds, on March 16, 1919.  

She was discharged from Army Nurse Corps on April 9, 1919 (from Service Record).

On April 10, 1919, she gave a talk to a Women's club in Irvington, Maryland, about her experiences "Over There."

1920, June 4 -- the Army Reorganization Act authorized relative rank for nurses. Prior to this point, nurses did not have rank and were not recognized as officers. Following the passage of this law, they were given officers' ranks, from 2nd Lieutenant through Major. They were not, however, given commissions or base pay equal to that of other officers of the same grade. Such equal treatment would have to wait until 1947. (Mary Sarnecky, The History of the US Army Nurse Corps).

Green was re-inducted into Army Nurse Corps as a 2nd Lieutenant only 8 days after the passage of this law, on June 12, 1920. She served at General Hospital No. 21, in Denver, Colorado, (renamed Fitzsimons General Hospital July 1, 1920) until January 24, 1922 (Shipley,The Officers and Nurses of Evacuation Hospital No. 8) As a postwar nurse officer, she belonged to a small elite: By June 30, 1921 there were only 851 nurses, including 1 major, 4 captains, 74 first lieutenants, and 772 second lieutenants (Office of Military History, US Army)

Green Shay's gravestone indicates that she was a first lieutenant. She might have been promoted some time between 1920 and 1922. Even though Shipley's book lists her as a 2nd Lieutenant, he readily admitted in the preface that it included numerous errors (her maiden name was also misspelled).

If she was promoted to First Lieutenant, as her gravestone indicates, she was among the top 100 women serving in the US Army during the postwar period. Additional material may be available at the Army Nurse Corps historical collection in Ft. Sam Houston, Texas, which I plan to visit for my research. 

As for her personal life.... 

She met Raymond Shay, also a veteran, a cavalry officer who served in the A.E.F. with the Iowa National Guard, who was recovering from tuberculosis at Fitzsimons. 

They married on June 28, 1922.  They had two children, Thomas (our father) and Patricia. Florence died August 17, 1980, at the age of 88. She and Raymond are buried together at Fort Logan National Military Cemetery in Denver. 

To her nine grandchildren, Florence Green Shay was known as "Mudder." And that's how we remember her.

Raymond Shay, Cavalry officer with the Iowa National Guard in the A.E.F. His grandchildren called him "Big Danny."

Florence Green's Foreign Service Certificate.

From the History Colorado Center web site: One of the 48 original 1918 buildings at the Fitzsimons Army Medical Center in Aurora, Colo., the Red Cross Building offered patient entertainment, which was especially meaningful for long-term patients usually suffering from tuberculosis. During WWI and WWII, the building put on vaudeville shows, movies, and concerts. Today, it is significant for its role in nursing soldiers, as well as for its architectural design as a standard cross-plan military building with stucco walls and shaped parapets. FMI: http://www.historycoloradocenter.org

Fort Logan National Military Cemetery in Denver after a snowfall. FMI: http://www.cem.va.gov/cems/nchp/ftlogan.asp

Part VIII: Mudder's World War I diary

November 16, 1918 
Got up at 6am breakfast in our room, got a taxi and made our train 6K, arrived at Chaumont 3pm. Found on arriving, P had been here, out of luck again tried to get him on the phone but no success. Went to the dance in the hut at night. 

November 17 
Orders have not arrived yet, took a walk in the afternoon, met several officers that Miss M knew, so we were invited out to dinner, had a very dry time. 

November 18 
Afraid to leave the grounds because I felt sure Peany would come today and he really did, was I glad to see him. I’ll sure say so. Took him over to tea and then brought me to 42 in his car, had a puncture getting here and too late for mess so we went to a villa nearby in a quaint old room you know and enjoyed myself. 

November 19 
Stayed in bed late, didn’t sleep at all, too much excitement. Had lots of mail, sure was good to be home once again. Peany came in the afternoon, just had a short while, came in the evening, a dance near by, so we rode over, had a dandy time, eats were good, fried chicken, sandwiches, doughnuts, cocoa and punch. 

November 20 
Went to Neuf Chateau with Ruth, and then I had a disappointment, met Peany and he has to go away for a few days such luck, as I do have. He came in the afternoon and we went out for dinner, in his motorcycle this time, he leaves in the morning. 

November 21 
Some good news, P doesn’t have to go away at all, I am tickled to death, went over to #79 to a dance, had a wonderful time. 

November 22 
Haven’t been put on duty yet, I don’t really mind, made some fudge for P in the morning, he said it was awfully good. He came about 300pm. Had a dance here with the good old jazz, best music I ever heard but I am afraid I am going to too many dances, this has been some week for me. 

November 23 
We had tea in our recreation room, P came over, he and Colonel, Miss McAfee and I went out to dinner, some good time. 

November 24 
Had a nice long walk with P. He came over in the afternoon we had a great tea party including fudge. We afterwards went over to his mess, some good feed I’ll tell you. Miss Saxelby and the colonel went too. 

November 25 
Am to go on duty tomorrow. I sure had a good rest. Peany was here twice today but for a short while. I certainly missed him tonight. 

November 26 
Was on duty but the ward is very easy. P came at night and we had a dandy walk. 

November 27 
The whole day off today made some fudge for P and had a nice ride in the motorcycle going to a dance tonight. 

November 28 
Had a dandy time at the dance last night, went out to dinner with P, had Thanksgiving dinner here but P first always. 

November 29 
P went up to the front on a wild chore, and of course our big dance is tonight, promised to get back but he didn’t; I went to the dance at 930 and had a good time. 

November 30 
P showed up about 2pm, had trouble with his motorcycle, now it is broken, hard luck again. He and I walked to Neuf Chateau, he bought me the dearest watch. In the evening, Colonel Lyesby, Miss Costello, P and I went to dinner. 

December 1 
Another day for P at the front, landed in here about 7pm, sick as he could be and had to walk home, poor fellow, I sure am sorry about 6 kilos too. 

December 2 
Got a note from P, he is ill. I just thought so but I am going over to see him tomorrow night. Miss Leach has fixed our room up darling, went to Neuf in the morning and did a lot of purchasing. Had a time to get home but we found a friend. 

December 3 
Walked all the way to Frenille, Miss Costello and I, had dinner there. Peany is convalescing. Came home in a Dodge. 

December 4 
Made some fudge for P, he was over in the morning. Afternoon, he came we went out to dinner. 

December 5 
Had a half day off and did not expect it. Goldie and I walked to Frenille, of course P was out but got back about 430p. Captain McDonald, Leah, P and I went on a party to Hareyville, but never again. 

December 6 
Peany left quick today and no wonder, we almost came to blows but we made up. 

December 7 
Sad news. P has to go Hopkins to a dinner and dance, said he simply can not get out of it, he was over in the afternoon and a while in the evening 

December 8 
P came in the afternoon, got me all frustrated, said the car was waiting to take him, but it was not so thank goodness. He had a rotten time at the dance and I am glad of it. We went to H to dinner, had a dandy time. 

December 9 
The 346 gave us a dance at night, I was dressing, Leah ran over to me, and told me P had had an accident and was over in 46H with a fractured arm, you can see me run all excited, did you know it was untrue, he had sent her with that tale. Well anyhow the dance was great. 

December 10 
P arrived at 3pm, said he was to leave tomorrow. We went out to dinner. My, I would be happy if he did not have to go. 

December 11 
Today has been one of the most miserable days I have ever had. Received a note from P at 200p, he left at 100pm, I don’t know what on earth I will do. He wrote the dearest letter, I also got an old letter from him today. I wrote him a long letter tonight and then went to bed. 

December 12 
Still miserable, and expect to be for some time. Got the picture today that P had sent me ages ago, bless his heart, wish he were here. To bed at 830, such a life. 

December 13 
Wrote to P, my I miss that man. Went over to a French dance at night for a while. 

December 14 
Went to Neuf with Leah, coming back the driver was slightly stoned. I did not think we would make it. To bed at 830pm. 

December 15 
Wrote to P. Took a walk at night with Nell. Was talking to Ray for a while. Monday 

December 16 
This life is getting rather monotonous. Wrote P; played cards this afternoon with Goldie and 2 officers, they were both married though. I won all the games too, me and my partner. 

December 17 
Some mail yesterday for a change but none from P. Wrote some letters, went to bed. 

December 18 
Played cards with some of the girls, nothing exciting happened. 

December 19 
To bed early, nothing new. 

December 20 
No mail, no nothing, rather blue, homesick, and tired. 

December 21 
There was a dance here last night, I heard it was a failure. To bed early as usual. 

December 22 
Made Xmas ornaments for the tree, out of silver foil and colored cardboard with red ink, better the day, better the deeds. Leah wanted me to play cards with her but refused. 

December 23 
Lt. Wood came over and invited me to their Xmas eve dance. I accepted. Made fudge the entire day for the boys for Xmas. Got my package and some letters, rather pleased. 

December 24 
Trimmed our tree which looked rather nice and the ward looked great, decorated with greens and things made out of absolutely nothing. Went to the dance at night, had an awfully good time. 

December 25 
Got up at 12noon, blue as could be. Had a good Xmas dinner, went on the ward at 2pm, the patients sure had a good day; I wanted to dance but relaxed instead. Got several sweet handkerchiefs, perfume, etc.

Part VII: Mudder's World War I diary

On Oct. 24, 1918, nurse Florence Green ("Mudder" to her grandchildren) received orders to go to Evac 8 on the Meuse-Argonne front. This is from information provided by Dr. Marian Moser Jones of the University of Maryland after reading Florence Green's diary:

As she notes in her diary, Florence was sent to evacuation Hospital number 8 during the end of the Meuse Argonne Offensive in late October, after stints at Evacuation Hospitals 1 and 4. Evacuation Hospitals were nearer the front than base hospitals. Green served near the front during the final push of the war and was part of a group regularly exposed to large artillery fire and aerial bombardments.

Evacuation Hospital No. 8 and its wartime operations were also described in detail by Dr. Arthur Shipley, a prominent professor of Surgery at the University of Maryland, in a series of articles published in the Bulletin of the University of Maryland School of Medicine between 1919 and 1920. Florence mentioned meeting Shipley and working with him in her Oct. 26th diary. [Frederick] Pottle worked under him as an orderly. He later wrote a supplement to Pottle's book, The Officers and Nurses of Evac. No. 8. Although Green only served at this hospital for a short time, Shipley lists her in the supplement.

Here's Dr. Shipley writing about the details of evacuation hospitals:

The Evacuation Hospitals were usually up to 10 miles from the front. They were well out of reach of the light artillery but within the range of the "heavies" and, of course, were subject to bombing. The difficult thing was to place them along the lines of communication, and at the same time far enough away from ammunition dumps and rail heads not to invite shelling or bombing. They were plainly marked with big crosses made of different colored stone laid out on clear space, so as to be easily seen from the observation planes and to show up in photographs. If there were buildings in the hospital group, red crosses were often painted on the roofs. This was most important, as wounded men in large numbers could not be moved into dugouts if the hospitals were subjected to much shelling. During the Argonne offensive, we were at the top of our strength. We had about 1000 beds for patients, 410 enlisted personnel, 65 medical officers and 75 nurses.

Florence Green of Baltimore was one of those nurses. Her diary continues....

October 26
Dr. Shipley from the University of Maryland here. I made myself known to him, several other Baltimore people here. Worked all day.

October 27
Nothing exciting to relate, worked the entire day.

October 28
Goldie came to see me today, brought me four letters all from home too. Miss Martin made some good taffy, the best I have had for many a day.

October 29
Not so busy today.

October 30
The girls are trying to have a party for tomorrow night, it is Halloween. I hope they succeed. Made some real good fudge.

October 31
Had a wonderful ride today in a Cadillac and with a Lieutenant Colonel, but not the one I would of liked to of been with. Also had a dandy walk. Halloween night, but no dance.

November 1
Cleaned house today and wrote a pile of letters. Had a very nice walk. I think patients will soon come in by the barge this am.

November 2
War news is encouraging if it only keeps up. Heard today that Evac#4 had been shelled, poor Goldie, I bet she was scared to death.

November 3
Today is Sunday, but I never know one day from the other. Worked all day.

November 4
Well, Austria is out of the war; I do believe it will be over soon.

November 5
Nothing new, the war is still on.

November 6
No mail, no nothing, wish I was in Baltimore, tonight. Rain for a change.

November 7
Heard today, the war was over, another wild rumor I suppose but if it is true, how wonderful it will be.

November 8
Had the whole day off today, went about 3-5 miles from here, rode in four different vehicles, had a good lunch and dinner and a dandy ride in a Cadillac, a dandy time.

November 9
The Germans have until Monday 11am, am crazy to know how every thing is going to turn out. Am waiting to go on a candy making party but looks like we won’t go tonight as the officers can’t come, such as life, just full of disappointments.

November 10
Busy as could be today, tomorrow is the day which decides about the war, am so anxious to hear the return.

November 11
Am some happy tonight to think the war is really over. I cannot believe it. Haven’t heard a gun since 11am. Great celebrating everywhere. Can almost hear the city hall in Baltimore ringing, and what a wonderful time for Paris.

November 12
Nothing exciting happened, patients coming in slowly. Took a walk. Our orders came. We go Evac to #15, hope from there to #2.

November 13
Gee, but I had a good time today, went to Verdun and then way up to the front, saw lots of sights. Came back and went to Evac #3, since they are having no work there at all. A dandy little Lieutenant took us there and then later met us later and took us to Evac #4 where I saw Goldie, some mud there. On arriving home, we hear there is to be a big dance in the Citadel at Verdun, went up in a huge truck, just had lots of fun. Got home about 1am. The most exciting thing happened during the day I forgot to relate, met Captain R from the 346 and now I know where Lieutenant Colonel S is, hope I see him soon.

November 14
Stayed in bed late and at 11am, the chief came in to give us our orders; we left at 2pm, to take the train. It only takes 5 hours so Miss Martin and I thought we could make it quicker. We got permission from Captain Cahill so we beat it. A colonel was delighted to take us; I think we made it in ¾ of an hour. 30 miles at least, but we enjoyed it, but don’t say it was not cold. Had a dandy dinner and met the train from B. Oh yes, we are going to Paris, am tickled to death, took the night train and oh the ride, no sleep, about 9 people in the compartment.

November 15
Such a wonderful day, arrived at the Continental, got a beautiful room had breakfast in our boudoir. Went to the Red Cross, did some shopping, from there to the Marlboro Tea Room and such a good lunch, soup the best chicken, first I had had in France and real ice cream, well it was delicious. Did some more shopping. Eva met a captain from her home, so he went around with us, bought a dandy looking pair of shoes, had my suit pressed, I feel very much dressed up, to dinner and theater tonight with Captain Hinton and K, we saw ‘Tales of Hoffman’ mighty good show.

Musical interlude: Violinist Mery Zentay: Melodie in F and Barcarolle from "Tales of Hoffmann" (1917), https://youtu.be/OvJcjiDNZpo. A pupil of Jenö Hubay, Mery Zentay successfully toured Europe 1910-1914. She made her American debut in 1915 and became a popular recitalist as well as an Edison recording artist. She died on Oct. 3, 1918, at the age of 21, a result of the flu epidemic.

L’Infirmière (The Nurse), 1914–1918, by René Georges Hermann-Paul. Collection of Spencer Museum of Art, The University of Kansas. Gift of Professor Eric Gustav Carlson. This work was part of the exhibition “The Second Battlefield: Nurses in the First World War” at the National World War I Museum and Memorial in Kansas City, 2015-2016.

Part VI: Mudder's World War I diary

September 25 
Orders came almost 1030am for us to move, we came up in ambulances took about 8 hours, to Fleury. On the way up met Dr. Mores, talked to him almost a 1/2 hour.

September 26
Worked all day, in the G Room, lots of cases came in.

September 27 
Nothing exciting, worked all day in the GR.

September 28 
Same old thing, worked forty two hours without any sleep, such is life but I don’t mind.

September 29 
Really didn’t know today was Sunday, we were so very busy, but we are hearing good news, so why worry.

September 30
The boys sure are coming in, and oh the condition, poor things, it is dreadful. Well I hear we move tomorrow. Thank goodness for that.

October 1 
We all moved up here, the teams came up in ambulance, and we had a pretty good barracks to sleep in, the French loaned it to us, out in tents for us in the morning. I don’t know where we are, near Rheims, somewhere.

October 2 
The Huns sure were flying over us last night. No bombs dropped on us. Took a long walk, saw a French cemetery, had 2 Americans in them. We line up for our food, great life.

October 3 
Gee, I sure thought we were goners last night, the shells just whizzed past us, I thought the next one would hit us. Same barrage during the night too. I hear the Americans went over the top this morning, the patients are starting to come in.

October 4 
Been awfully busy, no time to write.

October 5 
Worked at night, and plenty of it to do.

October 6 
Never knew it was Sunday, 

October 7 
Not so busy, made some good fudge about 4am.

October 8 
Worked hard last night

October 9 
Am on fifth calls, doubt if we work, had a fudge party, 3 officers, Miss Martin and I, was it good.

October 10 
Had a ride to Chalons today, one of the boys picked us up, had a dandy ‘ride’ in a Dodge. 

October 11 
Working, nothing much is happening.

October 12 
Great talk about peace, if it would only be true.

October 13 
Went to Chalons today, had an awfully good dinner. Go to bed mighty early these nights. No mail from home, blue I do feel.

October 14 
Peace seems a long way off, oh for me home, so blooming much fuss in this organization, one of the nurses in the guard house, I suppose I’ll be next.

October 15
A dreary old day, no mail, and I sure feel blue tonight; will be satisfied to get back to my base, such a life. We did have some good cake tonight.

October 16 
Sure am getting old, am 26 today, had lunch at Chalons, Miss Hurst gave me 4 birthday cards, which were so pretty.

October 17 
Worked all day in the Pneumonia ward. To bed early as usual

October 18 
Orders to move, but they were changed in a few hours, so I suppose will stay here awhile.

October 19 
In bed all day with a bad cold, chill blains, my feet nearly kill me.

Oct 20 
Went to Chalons to take a sick nurse, she is going to Paris. Came home, made some good fudge and at night received a letter from P., sure was happy. To bed at 7pm. Such a life. I went to church.

Oct 21 
Took a walk, found a commissary, which was supplied with chocolate, such a treat. At night, went out with a captain.

October 22 
Oh, I was so happy when the C.O. said I could go to my base. I packed all my things, because we are moving. Well, I had to change cars at Toul and my train was four hours late, so I had to stay all night at the place as there were no trains to Baz, such an experience, had a time getting a place to sleep, finally did.

October 23 
My train left at 530pm, of course it was late. Traveling in France isn’t the most pleasant thing alone, especially if you don’t speak French. I arrived at my base in time for breakfast, was rather hungry, as I had no dinner the night before. Everyone was so glad to see me, it made me feel real happy, was just like going home to see your people. Just think, another one of our nurses has died. It is just dreadful. The stack of mail I did get, 25 letters, and five newspapers. I left that night. Ray W took me to the train; it was only 1 hour and 15 minutes late. Had another night to spend in Toul.

October 24 
Arrived at my destination about 3pm, and there were orders for our team to proceed to Evac 8, Verdun section. Had all Miss Martin’s packing to do, as she was not well. We left at almost 5pm and arrived at midnight.

October 25
Went to breakfast, had a good meal. Found out we were not going to work so we started out for Evac #4 to see Miss Leach. Instead of getting to 4, we were taken to Evac #6, Dr. Moses was there, so I stayed there for lunch, had quite a nice time. He seemed sort of glad to see me. Back to #8, then to #4, saw Goldie, she was tickled to death to see me, only had a short time there, she was scrubbed up, and working hard, went on duty 8pm, came off at midnight to go on day duty.

"Worked forty two hours without any sleep." What was keeping Nurse Green and her colleagues so busy at the evacuation hospitals in Sept.-Oct., 1918?

This comes from the History Channel's "This Day in History:"

At 5:30 on the morning of September 26, 1918, after a six-hour-long bombardment over the previous night, more than 700 Allied tanks, followed closely by infantry troops, advance against German positions in the Argonne Forest and along the Meuse River. 

Building on the success of earlier Allied offensives at Amiens and Albert during the summer of 1918, the Meuse-Argonne offensive, carried out by 37 French and American divisions, was even more ambitious. Aiming to cut off the entire German 2nd Army, Allied Supreme Commander Ferdinand Foch ordered General John J. Pershing to take overall command of the offensive. Pershing’s American Expeditionary Force (AEF) was to play the main attacking role, in what would be the largest American-run offensive of World War I. 

After some 400,000 U.S. troops were transferred with difficulty to the region in the wake of the U.S.-run attack at St. Mihiel, launched just 10 days earlier, the Meuse-Argonne offensive began. The preliminary bombardment, using some 800 mustard gas and phosgene shells, killed 278 German soldiers and incapacitated more than 10,000. The infantry advance began the next morning, supported by a battery of tanks and some 500 aircraft from the U.S. Air Service.

By the morning of the following day, the Allies had captured more than 23,000 German prisoners; by nightfall, they had taken 10,000 more and advanced up to six miles in some areas. The Germans continued to fight, however, putting up a stiff resistance that ultimately forced the Allies to settle for far fewer gains than they had hoped.

Pershing called off the Meuse-Argonne offensive on September 30; it was renewed again just four days later, on October 4. Exhausted, demoralized and plagued by the spreading influenza epidemic, the German troops held on another month, before beginning their final retreat. Arriving U.S. reinforcements had time to advance some 32 kilometers before the general armistice was announced on November 11, bringing the First World War to a close.

Wikipedia sums it up this way: "The battle cost Pershing 26,277 killed and 95,786 wounded, making it the largest and bloodiest operation of the war for the American Expeditionary Force."

Poetry, as always, gets the last word. From the Poetry Foundation web site:

Epitaph On My Days in Hospital
BY VERA MARY BRITTAIN 

I found in you a holy place apart,
Sublime endurance, God in man revealed,
Where mending broken bodies slowly healed
My broken heart 

Source: Verses of a VAD (1918). Brittain served as a nurse with the British Voluntary Aid Detachment (VAD) during the war. Her only brother and her fiance both were killed in action.

Map of the Meuse-Argonne offensive. From Wikipedia, public domain.