The horrors of large-caliber machine guns and artillery warfare heralded a new era of horrific deaths and horrific injuries as the world and its soldiers rose to the top and moved directly into mechanized warfare.

World War I cost the lives of 8 million people and 21 million were injured. An estimated 60,500 British soldiers suffered head or eye injuries, according to a 2011 article. British Journal Social History of Medicine. The number of French and German battle casualties was undoubtedly similar.

Beyond physical disfigurement, the mutilation of a generation of men left many with deep psychological scars.

“The effect it had on a man who had to live all his life as an object of fear to others as well as to himself is indescribable.” Dr. Fred Albee wroteAn American surgeon working in France said, “…It is a very common experience for the maladjusted person to feel alienated from his own world. It must be hell to feel like a stranger to yourself.”

But with the help of Red Cross volunteer, American socialite and sculptor Anna Coleman Ladd, some soldiers were able to confront themselves and the world once again.

Brought to France through her husband and appointed director of the American Red Cross Children’s Bureau in Toul during the war, Ladd drew on her talents as a sculptor (she specialized in decorative fountains) to establish the Studio of Portrait Masks in Paris during her late career. 1917.

Inspired by British sculptor Francis Derwent WoodLadd, who began making masks for disfigured British soldiers in March 1916, wondered if he could replicate something similar in France.

Because plastic surgery was still in its infancy, only limited could be done to repair destroyed jaws and missing noses, mouths, and eyes.

“A man who came to us had been injured 2 1/2 years ago and had never been home.” 1919 report from Ladd’s studio. “He didn’t want his mother to see how bad he looked.”

Patients who attended Ladd’s studio were treated with great care and attention. A single mask Ladd created required a month’s worth of detail.

“The mask itself will be made of galvanized copper with a thickness of thirty seconds—or, as one female visitor to Ladd’s studio put it, ‘the thinness of a business card.'” Smithsonian Magazine. “Depending on whether it covered the entire face or just the upper or lower half, as was often the case, the mask weighed between 4 and 9 ounces and was usually held with goggles.”

Calling the men his “brazen braves,” Ladd often worked with pre-injury photographs to model his cast as closely as possible to the patient’s original appearance.

The real challenge lay in finding the right paint that had lasting power (oil paint crumbles very easily) and matched the skin tone. Ladd found success using a hard enamel that was easily washed and gave a dull, flesh-like appearance when painted over.

According to the Smithsonian, Ladd painted the mask while the man was wearing it to match his skin tones as closely as possible.

“Skin tones that look bright on a dull day look pale and gray in bright sunlight and need to be averaged somehow,” wrote Grace Harper, chief of the Bureau of Retraining Mutilés. “The artist needs to adjust his tone for both bright and cloudy weather and mimic the bluish tone of shaved cheeks.”

By the end of 1919, Ladd and his four assistants were able to produce 185 masks for disfigured French soldiers. And while that number pales in comparison to the staggering number of injured, the impact among those 185 people was enormous.

Today, hosted at Smithsonian There is some ephemera, photographs and letters from Ladd. Much of it written in French, the sculptor once received countless letters from men who were heavy casualties of the war.

“I owe you great gratitude… because I always wear and will always wear the wonderful device you created,” one soldier wrote. “Thanks to you, I can live again. Thanks to you, I did not bury myself in the depths of disabled hospitals.”

Another reads: “Thanks to you, I will have a home. …The woman I love no longer finds me repulsive, because he has the right to. … She will be my wife.”

This story was first published on HistoryNet.com..