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Ambrose Bierce, Classic Western Writer

10/30/2023

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Ambrose Bierce was a prolific American writer and journalist, whose pioneering work in horror and in realistic war fiction inspired many, including H. P. Lovecraft, Stephen Crane, and Ernest Hemingway.

Bierce was born in a log cabin at Horse Cave Creek in Meigs County, Ohio, on June 24, 1842. He was the tenth of thirteen children, all of whom their father gave names beginning with the letter "A": Abigail, Amelia, Ann, Addison, Aurelius, Augustus, Almeda, Andrew, Albert, Ambrose, Arthur, Adelia, and Aurelia. Bierce’s parents impressed on him the importance of reading and writing, and when he was only 15 years old, he left home to become a writer at a small Ohio newspaper.

Ambrose enlisted in the Union Army's 9th Indiana Infantry when the Civil War began. His participation in the Battle of Shiloh became a source for several of his short stories and his memoir "What I Saw of Shiloh." In April 1863 he was commissioned a first lieutenant. He served on the staff of General William Babcock Hazen as a topographical engineer, making maps of likely battlefields. He was recommended for admission to West Point, but a traumatic brain injury he received at the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain stopped him from attending. He would suffer from complications, including fainting episodes and irritability attributable to traumatic brain injury, for the rest of his life.

After the war, Bierce joined an expedition to inspect military outposts across the Great Plains. He traveled by horseback and wagon from Omaha, Nebraska, arriving toward year's end in San Francisco, California, where he was awarded the rank of brevet major before resigning from the Army. He worked as an editor of a San Francisco newspaper for several years, then moved to England, where he wrote for a magazine. In 1875, Bierce moved back to San Francisco and resumed working as a journalist.

Bierce’s personal life was marked by tragedy. He married Mary Ellen "Mollie" Day on December 25, 1871. Two of their three children died young, his son Day by suicide after a romantic rejection and his son Leigh of pneumonia related to alcoholism. After discovering compromising letters to her from an admirer, Bierce and his wife separated. They divorced in 1904 and she died died the following year. His daughter Helen outlived them all.

In October 1913, when Bierce was 71, he went on a tour of his old Civil War battlefields. By December, his traveling had taken him into Mexico, where he became an observer in Pancho Villa's army. On December 26, 1913 he wrote a letter to Blanche Partington, a close friend, which he ended with the words "As to me, I leave here tomorrow for an unknown destination." Bierce was never heard from again. He vanished without a trace, one of the most famous disappearances in American literary history. His life, and especially the mystery of his death, have been the inspiration for countless novels and movies. 

Bierce was inspired by Edgar Allen Poe. Some of his horror and gothic ghost tales went on to inspire H.P. Lovecraft. Click here to read one of his short stories that's perfect for the haunted, Halloween season:





Jennifer Bohnhoff is a retired teacher who used Bierce's Occurrence at Owl Creek when teaching American Literature. She is now a full time, award-winning writer, mostly of historical fiction for middle grade readers. 
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Bill Mauldin, New Mexico Cartoonist

10/26/2023

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People who recognize the name Bill Mauldin most often remember him as the cartoonist who created Willie and Joe, the enlisted soldiers who showed us the human side of World War II. New Mexico is proud to claim him as one of its talented sons.

Mauldin was born October 29, 1921 in Mountain Park, New Mexico, an unincorporated community in Otero County, west of Cloudcroft. His family moved to Phoenix, where he attended Union High School and joined the ROTC, and experience that served him well in the military. Mauldin should have graduated in 1939, but he lacked the credits to do so. Since the editor of the school newspaper and his art teacher recognized his talent and suggested Mauldin pursue cartooning as a profession, he moved to Chicago and took a cartooning course at the Chicago Academy of Fine Arts, then moved back to Phoenix, where he gained a few commissions for election cartoons and joined the Arizona National Guard, 45th Infantry Division. Two days after Mauldin was sworn in, the Guard was "federalized" and the troops moved to Oklahoma. Mauldin soon talked his way into being the cartoonist for the 45th Division News when he was off-duty. He created Willie and Joe for the 45th Division News in 1940.

The 45th Division headed to Italy in time to participate in D-Day in Sicily on July 10, 1943. When the newspaper began issuing editions on mimeograph paper, Mauldin learned how to cut drawings into stencils. Willie and Joe began appearing in the Mediterranean edition of the Stars and Stripes in November 1943. By early 1944, they were syndicated as Up Front by United Feature Service.

Not happy with being segregated from his unit like most of the news staff was, Mauldin volunteered for gunning duty. He made sure he spent time with K Company, his fellow infantrymen. Near Cassino at Christmas in  1943, he was struck by a small fragment from a German mortar while sketching at the front. Although he said that he had "been cut worse sneaking through barbed-wire fences in New Mexico,", he earned a Purple Heart for his injury.

One person who didn’t appreciate Mauldin’s cartoons was General George Patton, who thought Willie and Joe were scruffy and badly mannered. In March 1945, he drove to Patton's quarters in Luxembourg, where the General harangued him:

"Sergeant," he said, "I don't know what you think you're trying to do, but the krauts ought to pin a medal on you for helping them mess up discipline for us."
Mauldin was permitted to speak his mind to Patton. He later told Will Lang, the Life magazine journalist that “Patton had received me courteously, had expressed his feelings about my work, and had given me the opportunity to say a few words myself. I didn't think I had convinced him of anything, and I didn't think he had changed my mind much, either."


In 1945, the war ended and Mauldin won his first Pulitzer for cartooning, prompting his high school to decide that he had done enough work to earn a high school diploma. Mauldin’s post war cartoons first focused on the difficulties that Willie and Joe had reentering American culture. By 1948, Maulding had progressed beyond the plight of Willie and Joe and he was attacking inequality and injustice elsewhere in society. The same stubbornness that allowed him to face General Patton allowed him to take on the FBI, Joseph McCarthy, the House Un-American Activities Committee, and the Ku Klux Klan.
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When the Vietnam War began, Mauldin talked the Chicago Sun-Times into sending him to Vietnam, arguing that as a cartoon commentator he owed it to his readers to get "his own feet wet." He was visiting his eldest son Bruce, who was a warrant officer and helicopter pilot with the 52nd U.S. Army Aviation Battalion stationed two hundred miles north of Saigon when he experienced a Viet Cong attack on February 7, 1965. He sent back several cartoons about the experience.  
In 1991, and injury to his drawing hand that forced Mauldin to retire. By 2002, he had developed advanced Alzheimer's Disease. Bill Mauldin died on January 22, 2003 and was buried six days later, at Arlington National Cemetery. He truly is a New Mexican treasure.
 

Jennifer Bohnhoff is a New Mexican who hasn't yet attained treasure status, but it working hard to get there. She is the author of 11 books, many of which are set in New Mexico or involve the trials of war. She is also the daughter and mother of men who have served in the Army. 

​To commemorate Veteran's Day this year, she is giving away a 1945 copy of Up Front by Bill Mauldin. All of the cartoons in this blog are from that book. The winner will be chosen from among the subscribers to her email list. If you would like to join that list for a chance to win the book, click here. 

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Ypres: The Belgian Town with Many Names and a Lot of History

10/20/2023

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In 2019, my husband and I were able to tour the World War I battlefields in Belgium and France. We visited many cities and towns, but my favorite was Ypres, a town with many names and a lot of history.

Ypres is the third largest city in the Flanders, right behind Ghent and Bruges. Its official name is its Flemish one, Ieper, but it is most commonly called by its  French name, Ypres. It most likely got its name from its proximity to the  Yperlee, or Leperlee, River. During World War I, British soldiers often renamed the places whose names felt strange to their tongues. The town of Bailleul became Baloo, Étaples became Eat Apples, Foncquevillers.was called Funky Villages, and Ypres became Wipers..

Ypres is an ancient town. The Romans raided it in the first century BC, mentioning it in their records by location. The first written record of the name is from 1066. 

During the Middle Ages, Ypres became a major cloth-weaving city. It was such an important trading partner, its linen so valuable to the English that it is mentioned in the Canterbury Tales. England's Edward III offered economic incentives and protection to Flemish weavers, who migrated to the island nation in large numbers.Ypres cloth, both linen and woolen, was available as far away as the city of Novgorod, in Kievan Rus. Its population grew, possibly to as large as 80,000. 
It was during this peak of power that the famous Cloth Hall was built.  Erected between 1260 and 1304, it was a jewel of gothic architecture and a testament to the riches that were pouring into Ypres. Behind it sits Saint Martin's Cathedral, which was built in 1221.
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Above: The Cloth Guild Hall. Below: the Cathedral Author's photos.
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PictureA section of the old town walls
Ypres had long been fortified to keep out invaders. Parts of the early ramparts, dating from 1385, still survive near the Rijselpoort (Lille Gate). Over time, the earthworks were replaced by sturdier masonry and earth structures and a partial moat. Ypres was further fortified in the 17th and 18th centuries. These fortifications did not always protect the city, and the devastation of war and siege. The city has been under French, Spanish, and Habsburg control. Its population dwindled to about 5,000. ​

By the turn of the 20th century, the town looked old and worn. An extensive rebuilding program restored the Cloth Hall and Cathedral to their former glories. The town's restored beauty was not to last, however. 

Because it stood in the path of Germany's Schlieffen Plan, Ypres occupied a strategic position during the First World War. Belgium's neutrality was guaranteed by Britain, bringing the British Empire into the war and many hundreds of thousands of British soldiers into the Ypres area. The German army  bombarded the city until it was reduced to ruins. The last inhabitants abandoned the city in 1915. By 1917 not a single house or tree remained standing. 
PictureCanadian troops passing the ruins of the Cloth Hall. Image from Library and Archives Canada
After the war the town was extensively rebuilt using money paid by Germany in reparations. The main square, including the Cloth Hall, town hall, and Cathedral were rebuilt based on the renovation plans from before the war. 

Today, Ypres is home to about 34,900 inhabitants. The restored Cloth Hall now houses In Flanders Fields Museum, which is dedicated to Ypres's role in the First World War and named for the poem by Canadian John McCrae. St. George's Chapel, which faces the Cathedral, remains a center of British culture in the town and a pilgrimage site for British Citizens who lost loved ones during WWI.
The Menin Gate, in the city's east walls, holds the names of soldiers of the British Commonwealth who fell near Ypres before August 16, 1917 but who have no known grave. Soldiers who died later are commemorated elsewhere. As graves are identified, the names of those buried in them are removed from the Gate.

Every evening at eight o'clock, traffic around the imposing arches of the Menin Gate Memorial stops while buglers sound the "Last Post." During the Second World War Germans who occupied the city prohibited the ceremony, so it was hosted at Brookwood Military Cemetery in England. The ceremony resumed on September 6, 1944  the day the city was liberated, even though there was still heavy fighting in other parts of the town. 
If you were to walk through Ypres today without knowing its history, you might think what a cute and quaint medieval town it is. But the gothic buildings are all new, rebuilt after the horror of war had reduced them to rubble. And although the buildings are rebuilt, the memory of trauma remains. Ypres is not a town that will ever forget the horror it went through a hundred years ago. 

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Although she fell in love with Ypres, the scenes in Jennifer Bohnhoff's WWI novel A Blaze of Poppies do not take place in this area, but farther to the south, in France.

One of the reasons she so loved this area is that her guide, Iain McHenry, breathed so much life into the area. An historian and the author of  Subterranean Sappers: A History of 177 Tunnelling Company RE from 1915 to 1919, the definitive book on WWI sappers in the Ypres Salient, he comes highly recommended for the breadth of his knowledge of the area and its battles. 

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The Drummer Boy of Valverde

10/16/2023

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A Gothic Ghost story by Jennifer Bohnhoff, 
based on the Characters in
​her Historical Novel, Where Duty Calls

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They lined up now, in three long rows behind the low sand hill. The front line, all 200 of them,  prone against the hill while the back two lines, the second wave of 250 and the third wave of 300, squatted on their heels. Behind them, sergeants walked up and down, shouting at the men to make sure their guns had a priming cap in place, to shoot low, and not until they were within effective range. 
The whites of their eyes, Jemmy thought, then wondered where he’d heard that before. 

Don’t shoot until you see the whites of their eyes.
 

He glanced right, at Jaspar Jones, whose hands trembled and whose eyes looked as round as a rabbit’s.  Plenty of white showing, all the way around.  Jones’d make a fine target if the Abolitionists were looking for the whites of his eyes. Jemmy looked past him at the line of men.  Some twitched in anticipation of the fight to come.  Some used the backs of their hands to wipe tears from their faces. Some prayed, their hands clutched together as their lips moved with the earnest intensity that only the doomed can know. Some men lay so still that he wondered if they’d gone to sleep.

Behind him, Colonel Green called for the men’s attention. The line quieted.  Everyone trusted “Daddy” Green to do right by them.  

“Boys,” he called, “I want Colonel Canby’s guns! When I yell, raise the Rebel yell and follow me!”  

All along the line, men affirmed the Colonel, some with cheers and others with quiet “yes, sirs.” Jemmy felt his resolve harden into a knot in his throat. Afraid his voice would come out in a squeak, he nodded his assent. 

He looked left and noticed Wee Willie squatting close by, his drumsticks clutched in his fists, his jaw set with a gritty determination that made the boy look old beyond his years. Willie’s pale skin looked even paler than usual, his black eyes sunken into his face. He was a curious one, that Willie: so small that Jemmy couldn’t look at him without wondering how his Mama could have let him run off to war. Some said he was an orphan, but that was just a rumor. Willie never spoke. He hung around the edges of the camp, eating what others offered him, sleeping on the floor of the Colonel’s tent like a pet pup.

Just beyond Willie, John Norvell and Frederick Wade hunkered shoulder to shoulder.

“Fred, we are whipped, and I will never see my mother again!” John said in between wracking sobs.  

Jemmy closed his eyes, trying to wipe the image of Norvell’s tears from his mind. He raised one shoulder and then the other, lessening the tension in his back. The shoot low part bothered him.  Sure, it was just fine if he did it.  He was in the first line of men and there’d be nothing in front of him except blue coats.  It didn’t matter if he hit them in the head or the kneecap.  Shot was shot, and a Yank with a ball in him wouldn’t be trying to return the favor. But Jemmy wasn’t so sure he wanted the second or third waves of men, the men who came behind him, to be shooting low. He didn’t cotton to taking a ball in the back. Not from one of his own. Not when it might be mistaken as a mark that Jemmy was running from the Federal line instead of toward it. He didn’t want to be mistaken for a coward.

The ghostly sun, a pale disk behind thin, gray clouds, hung high overhead, a little past the apex. Snow had started again, tiny dry pellets brought in almost horizontal that it bit his cheeks and made his eyes water. Why did the wind have to come from the west today?  Why couldn’t it be at his back, pushing him on towards victory?  It seemed like God himself was against him. 

He stretched his neck, thrusting his chin forward so he could look over the top of the hill without exposing the crown of his head. There, not 800 yards from him, Federal cannons pointed directly at him, their open muzzles looking like astonished mouths.  Soon, he knew, they’d be belching fire at him. Fire, and deadly chunks of metal.

Jemmy shook his head hard. He had to stop talking scary to himself or he was going to end up like Norvell or Jones. Shaking his head didn’t dislodge the images that swirled around in his head like ghost stories. He knew he needed to hear the sound of his own voice, to talk himself calm like he did with his mules.
“You ain’t got nothing to be scairt of,” he told himself in as convincing a manner as he could muster.  “The men behind you is there to support you, not shoot you in the back. And the snow and wind? It done mask our sound. It’ll confuse the Federals into thinking there’re less of us than there are.  An’ grapeshot and canister’s aimed at the generals and such. Them cannons ain’t interested in a little guy like me.”

Jemmy gave his head a firm nod, but ghastly, terrifying images kept pushing his convictions from him. He frowned. If he couldn’t be brave from himself, perhaps he could be brave for someone else. He grabbed We Willie’s shoulder, pulling the drummer boy into a side embrace.

“This here’s your first fight, son, but you got nothing to be scairt of,” Jemmy said, more to himself than to Willie.  “God’s on our side, sure as shoot’n. He ain’t going to let us down. When we let go our rebel yell, them Abs’ll skedaddle back to their fort with their tails between their legs and we’ll take possession of those fine guns. So don’t you worry none.  It’s on to San Francisco for us.” 

Jemmy pounded the drummer boy into his side with a series of encouraging whacks.  He didn’t know if he had said anything to calm Wee Willie, but he was beginning to feel better already.

 Willie pulled away from Jemmy. He scrambled back to his feet. He held up his fists, the sticks ready to beat the advance, sending men over the hill and into the cannon’s line of fire. 

“You are mistaken, Private.” Willie’s little voice lilted as high and light as birdsong. The sound of it surprised Jemmy. He was sure this was the first time he’d ever heard the drummer boy speak. “This is not my first fight. I have been leading men into battle since time immemorial. It was I who beat the advance at Waterloo.  I who beat at Yorktown. At Agincourt.  And Thermopylae. But you are right in one respect: I have nothing to be afraid of.” 

The boy pulled back his lips in a grin that was more grimace, and the two rows of teeth gave his pale face a skull-like appearance. Jemmy swore that his eyes gleamed a bright and burning red. Jemmy’s mouth dropped open in astonishment, but before he could draw breath, Colonel Green’s voice filled his ears.

“Up, boys, and at ‘em!”
​

Wee Willie beat the advance and two hundred men bellowed the rebel yell and clambered over the hill.  


Where Duty Calls is the first book in a trilogy of historical novels set in New Mexico during the time of the American Civil War. It is written for middle grade readers and adults who want to learn about the war in an immersive way. Published by Kinkajou Press, a division of Artemesia Publishing, a free, 100 page teacher's guide is available on the publisher's website. Teachers, ask about special discounts for class sets. The author, Jennifer Bohnhoff, is available for in person and online meetings. presentations, and discussions. 
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Mangia like the Military

10/5/2023

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PictureRobot8A, CC BY-SA 4.0 , via Wikimedia Commons
The October/November/December 2023 edition of AAA Explorer had an interesting article entitled The Great Roman Pasta Mystery. In it the author, David Farley, explored the origins of pasta carbonara. The dish, a luscious mixture of egg, pasta, guanciale, ground pepper and pecorino cheese, is a distinctly Roman dish. My Americanized version uses bacon instead of guanciale, parmesan for pecorino, and adds evaporated milk for creaminess.. 

The mystery is why there are no old recipes for the dish that is considered traditional. The first published recipe dates from 1952. After talking with many food experts, Farley concludes that pasta carbonara was invented by a clever Roman chef during World War Two, but in the aftermath of war, Italians, hungry both physically and emotionally, forgot the newness of the dish and adopted it into their traditions. 
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Ferracci asserts that a Roman chef, knowing that Americans ate eggs and bacon for breakfast, managed to pick up some of the powdered egg and dried bacon rations that were on the black market.  Roman food historian Emilio Ferracci explained to Farley that American soldiers in Rome were known to eat something they called “spaghetti breakfast,” which included these ingredients. Romans began eating the dish, too, adapting it with local ingredients.

PictureSumeet Jain from San Francisco, USA, CC BY-SA 2.0 , via Wikimedia Commons
Spaghetti carbonara is not the only example of food influenced by the military. In her book Combat-Read Kitchen, author Anastacia Marx de Salcedo explored how many of the foods Americans eat were first created to feed the military. One example is cheese. During World War II, American GIs craved cheese, but it was heavy and difficult to store and ship. Attempts to dry the product were successful on many fruits, vegetables and eggs did not work for cheese, which crumpled. However, after much experimentation, a USDA dairy scientist named George Sanders developed a cheese powder that was shelf stable and tasted good. Two years later the war ended and the military found itself with tons of dehydrated cheese that they no longer needed. Their solution was to sell it back to food manufacturers at steep discounts. One company who took advantage of this were the Frito Company, who mixed the cheese powder with cornmeal and water and introduced Cheetos to the nation in 1948. The other company that benefitted was Kraft, which had begun experimentation with processed cheeses before the war, but now changed their ubiquitous Kraft Dinners to use the powder instead of grated cheese.
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It’s hard to think of Cheetos as a biproduct of the military/industrial complex, but it is!

Spaghetti Carbonara

This version is very American, and may be similar to the original version whipped up by Roman chefs who wanted to sell their food to American GIs. It isn't fancy, but it is made with items that are typically in an American home and are shelf stable. This is rich comfort food at bargain prices. 
Cook al dente: 4 servings (8 oz) spaghetti. Drain in colander.
Cook until crisp: 2 slices bacon. Set aside on paper towels, wipe out the pan.
Combine and heat in pan until thick: 1 beaten egg, 1 cup evaporated milk, 1/2 cup frozen peas, 1/4 cup chopped red pepper.
Stir in: 1/2 cup parmesan cheese, the crumbled bacon, and pasta.
Serves 4


Jennifer Bohnhoff writes historical fiction for middle grade through adult readers.  You can learn more about her and her books here. 
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    ABout Jennifer Bohnhoff

    I am a former middle school teacher who loves travel and history, so it should come as no surprise that many of my books are middle grade historical novels set in beautiful or interesting places.  But not all of them.  I hope there's one title here that will speak to you personally and deeply.

    What I love most: that "ah hah" moment when a reader suddenly understands the connections between himself, the past, and the world around him.  Those moments are rarified, mountain-top experiences.



    Can't get enough of Jennifer Bohnhoff's blogs?  She's also on Mad About MG History.  

    ​
    Looking for more books for middle grade readers? Greg Pattridge hosts MMGM, where you can find loads of recommendations.

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