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The Manly Ideal	Films: Down Off the Farm
Music: Jazz with Ivy League Manners	Chapter & Verse
Off the Shelf	Open Book: Friends of France

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In 1915 Waldo Peirce '07, far right, "a large and raucous man," and other Harvard ambulanciers founded The Harvard Club of Alsace Reconquise, assembled here to clebrate Harvard's football victory over Yale. Photograph courtesy William L. Foley Collection

The late Arlen J. Hansen's Gentlemen Volunteers: The Story of the American Ambulance Drivers in the Great War, August 1914-September 1918, published last spring (Arcade, $27.95), tells the story of the Americans who became involved in World War I as ambulance drivers in the years before the United States entered the conflict. They found in France carnage on a terrifying scale, but exhibited gallantry amidst gore and manners in the face of madness. The volunteers included at least 348 Harvard men. One of them was the late Philip D. Orcutt '22. Hansen relates a story Orcutt told about American resourcefulness.

They tell the story of a driver who was hauling a couché to a hospital for the seriously wounded. Out of respect for the soldier's wounds, the driver proceeded down the road at a cautious pace. Meanwhile, in the back, the man had awakened and began sipping from a canteen, which someone had placed in his lap. He was soon feeling better, for, as they say, French canteens do not hold water. By the time the ambulance arrived at the couché hospital, the soldier, who was supposed to be recumbent and seriously wounded, was sitting up and feeling feisty.

When the hospital orderlies lifted the rear canvas, the soldier greeted them with a smile and a merry wave of the hand. He offered them a swig from his canteen and a drag on his cigarette. The officious orderlies, who were accustomed to dealing only with the most serious cases, dropped the canvas huffily. They chastised the driver for his obvious error and dispatched him to an assis hospital some twenty miles away, where less serious wounds were treated by, presumably, less able personnel. On the way, the soldier fell into a deep, boozy sleep. Since the assis hospital treated only ambulatory patients, the orderlies there were surprised to find a comatose form lying on a stretcher when they peered into the rear of the ambulance. The driver was admonished again and ordered to take the man to the hospital for couchés.

Having already wasted an hour trying to deliver this wounded soldier, the driver took off at top speed, indifferent to the jarring bumps and rattling washboard grade. The bouncing around eventually shook the soldier awake, and he began pounding on the cab and shouting loud, untoward comments about the driver's ancestry. He also resumed nipping on the canteen. The driver fumed at the prospect of carting this man endlessly back and forth between the two hospitals. He then stopped at the courtyard entrance of the couché hospital and used a tire iron to put his cursing patient firmly to sleep before the orderlies reached the car. They complimented the American driver for bringing them a proper couché this time.

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