In the autumn of a distant past, a 33-year-old Harvard-educated attorney shouldered a gun and marched determinedly through a fog-shrouded forest half-a-world away from his New York City law office. Over 500 of his military brothers were trapped behind enemy lines, and the lawyer turned Army captain was under strict orders to lead his company, Company H, to his stranded comrades.
“The Lost Battalion”, as the trapped soldiers were dubbed, was pinned down by enemy fire and left to scavenge remnants of ammunition and rations from the fallen. It was 1918, and the Great War (as it was called at the time) had been raging through Europe at a terrifying rate for four years.
Captain Edward Leslie Grant never made it to the men of the Lost Battalion. A German artillery shell tore through the trees in the Argonne Forest, killing Grant instantly.
And in that instant, the US Army lost a highly decorated captain and Major League Baseball lost one of its own. At one time, Captain Edward Leslie Grant was also a professional baseball player. From 1905 to 1915, Eddie Grant played a myriad of infield positions for four different teams. His final stint came with John McGraw’s New York Giants.
As a ballplayer, Grant was a speedy, light-hitting utility man who never batted higher than .277 in a full season but did steal at least 25 bases four times. In the field, he was a sure-handed defender, handling his defensive duties at third base particularly well. He was also a student of the game, perhaps, his Ivy League pedigree being unable to contain itself. After splitting time with the Phillies and Reds over nearly seven seasons, Grant was traded to John McGraw’s New York Giants in 1913.
McGraw valued Grant’s insight into the game as much or more than his actual skill playing it. So, while Grant’s on-field contributions for the Giants weren’t particularly impressive, though he hit did hit a career-high .277 for them in 1914, it was in his considerable intellect and ability to lead and instruct that provided his greatest value to the team.
After ten seasons in the big leagues, Grant walked away from the game in 1915. His Harvard education had been pulling at him for his years but had started to pull much stronger as his athletic ability began to diminish. By 1915, his baseball side finally gave way. Grant ended up setting up shop in the place of his last MLB stop, New York City and prepared for life as a lawyer.
On April 2, 1917, all of that changed.
On that day, President Woodrow Wilson addressed Congress to request a formal war resolution allowing America to enter the fray of the multi-nation war raging in Europe. It was an impassioned call to arms, and when the United States subsequently entered the war and sent troops into action, Eddie Grant was there, leaving his law practice, his entire post-baseball life behind with little more than the idea of helping allies despite unimaginable carnage lying ahead.
Once deployed, Grant proved to be a natural leader. Though quiet, he had a stark air of determination once committed to something. After all, he had dropped everything and traveled halfway across the world solely on the belief that America’s fight with Germany was something that needed to be done. Perhaps, it was that unwavering perseverance that drew others to follow him. It was also that perseverance that sent him into the Argonne Forest that day in October, 1918.
With lives to be saved, Grant willingly ran headlong into the abyss.
At the time of his death, there were many tributes paid and much fanfare made of his sacrifice. In 1921, the New York Giants honored Grant by placing a plaque in his honor at the Polo Grounds. (As an aside, there have been stories about how the Giants franchise refused a request to have a replica of Grant’s plaque - the original disappeared after the Polo Grounds closed - displayed in the team’s current ballpark. I don’t know how much of that is true. I do know that currently there is, in fact, a replica of the plaque at AT & T Park. I’ve seen it.) For a while, Grant’s memory was preserved, his heroism duly noted.
Unfortunately, time has a way of dulling the edges of memory. Our insatiable appetite for the present too often pushes the past completely out of our view. Cobwebs form, shadows are cast, and memories are lost to time. Sadly, such seems to be the case with Eddie Grant.
So, on Memorial Day, when Americans take a moment to remember and honor those who have served and fallen for this country, it would be nice to know that Captain Edward Leslie Grant hasn’t been lost to the shadows of history and that heroism no matter how much it has aged is still worthy of our collective acknowledgement and respect.
After all, a hero’s memory shouldn’t have an expiration date.
(Author’s note: For a far more eloquent and detailed look at Eddie Grant’s heroic life, please read Kevin Coyne’s magnificent piece for Smithsonian Magazine in 2004, here. I know that I cannot do Grant’s life nearly as much justice as Mr. Coyne did, but I felt compelled to write my own tribute to MLB’s first wartime casualty. I hope that I have in some way done something to honor him.)
Nooch is a lifelong sports fan who believes that Indianapolis ended up with a slightly better QB than San Diego in the 1998 NFL Draft, the Golden State Warriors may not make the NBA playoffs again in his lifetime (how was I supposed to know that Chris Mullin would make a coaching hire and a mid-season trade that would basically save the franchise?), and that Mike Ivie's pinch-hit, game winning grand slam for the Giants against the Dodgers in 1978 may have been the greatest moment in baseball history.
