Hannah, Fred A.

Born April 9, 1885, in Scranton, Pennsylvania. [Son of Hugh M. and Elizabeth J. Hannah. Educated Scranton schools and Mercersburg Academy, Class of 1907. In business with Unity Coal & Coke Company, Berwinsdale. Entered real estate business for himself, 1913, Scranton. Joined American Field Service, July 9, 1917; attached Section Seventeen to September 20,1917. Enlisted as private U. S. A. Ambulance Service with French Army. Croix de Guerre. Killed by aeroplane bomb at Deuxnouds-aux-Bois, north of St. Mihiel, September 20, 1918. Buried at Souilly, Meuse. Body to be transferred to Dunmore Cemetery, Scranton, Pennsylvania.

WHEN a comrade was killed near Montgobert in June, 1918, Fred A. Hannah would not allow the brancardiers to make a hasty burial there, and refused to budge from the heavily shelled poste until the body was given to him. Then with greatest care and reverence "Shorty" drove back where a fitting funeral could be held. Hardly more than three months later he himself was killed. They buried him at Souilly, with military honors, and the men, with whom he had stood by that other grave, grouped now sadly about him, yet proud in their grieving.

Fred was extremely reticent and never discussed his personal affairs, perhaps feeling them of small interest to others in so large a world. As his sister says, "It never occurred to him that he had ever done anything more than his duty." One entry in his diary is especially characteristic: "Have been lucky enough to be recommended for the Croix de Guerre. Don't know what for." But those who had worked beside him knew, and were glad. He always did more than his share. If a man lagged from exhaustion, somehow, without any fuss, "Shorty" was in his place doing the extra tasks. If a man had trouble, Fred was sure to be found helping him out of his difficulty. In fear, however, of appearing better than he thought himself to be, Fred tried to hide behind a crust of gruffness and a biting, sarcastic tongue, his bigness of heart, unselfishness, and sensitiveness. And yet he was remarkable in "his unassuming modesty, his simple straightforwardness, and his hatred of all sham, hypocrisy, and pretense." "Shorty" had, too, an amazing fund of dry humor and an ability to recount his own adventures with a laughable twist that was irresistable.

Fred was over draft age when war came, and below standard army height, being not quite four inches over five feet tall. Neither these facts, nor the unusual activity of his business that spring weighed with him. In less than a month Fred wound up his affairs and was a volunteer in the Field Service, representing the Scranton Presbyterian Church, but meeting his own expenses. He joined Section Seventeen in the field, and served with it as a driver until his death. He had intended, in justice to his business, to remain only six months; but Fred, who would have scouted the idea of heroism or sacrifice, decided that personal interests must wait. The recruiting officers, however, rejected him for dental defects, and only after considerable treatment, a letter from Field Service headquarters, and a very informal examination, could he get himself accepted. His own accounts of this were excruciatingly comic. Yet what more truly heroic and pathetic than this lonely little man fighting to secure the privilege of dying in service.

"His letters were cheerfully optimistic," writes his sister . .. . . . . . with never a complaint of hardships; filled with the doings of the section and nothing of his own achievements." An old friend speaks of "his wonderfully clear vision of his duty," and Fred entered upon it not as an enthusiastic, careless youth, but with the mature judgment of a man who has counted the cost and will not be deterred. He became ". . . . one of the best drivers in the section . . . . . distinguishing himself by his devotion to duty and the extreme gentleness and consideration he showed his wounded." "The biggest little man I ever knew," said a companion.

On the night of September 20, 1918, at Deuxnouds, not far from St. Mihiel, Fred was returning from duty when a German plane let fall a number of bombs. The first one landed close to " Shorty," wounding him terribly, and he lived only a few minutes. He had made his decision long before, and he was not afraid now. In those last moments he smiled, as a great man may, and went to meet death smiling, perfectly content to die for his ideals.

• Tribute from Memorial Volume of the American Field Service, 1921