If you go on the internet and try to research the relationship between the Nazi State and religion you will get opinions that are all over the board.  Some people are still angry about what they view as the collaboration between church and state in Nazi Germany and its occupied territories.  Others are equally adamant about the Church’s opposition to the Nazis.

            In 1933, almost all of the 60 million people living in Germany were Christian.  About 20 million people belonged to the Roman Catholic Church.  Protestant churches had about 40 million members, most of them members of the German Evangelical Church, an association of 28 regional churches that that included Lutheran, Reformed, and United Protestant churches.   Smaller so-called "free" Protestant churches, such as Methodist and Baptist churches also existed, as well as a small representation of Mormon, Jehovah Witness and Seventh Day Adventist Churches.  Less than 1% of the total population of the country was Jewish. 

            It’s pretty clear that, at least at first, many Protestants welcomed the rise of Nazism and were willing to cooperate with it.  They believed the Nazi Party affirmed traditional morals and family values and would protect them from communism.  The German Evangelical Church, which had long considered itself to be one of the pillars of German culture and society, espoused a theologically grounded tradition of loyalty to the state.  By the 1930s, a movement within the German Evangelical Church called the Deutsche Christen, or "German Christians" embraced many of the nationalistic and racial aspects of Nazi ideology.   It should come as no surprise, then, that many were persuaded by the statement on “positive Christianity” in Article 24 of the 1920 Nazi Party Platform that the Nazis believed in freedom of religion:

"We demand the freedom of all religious confessions in the state, insofar as they do not jeopardize the state's existence or conflict with the manners and moral sentiments of the Germanic race. The Party as such upholds the point of view of a positive Christianity without tying itself confessionally to any one confession. It combats the Jewish-materialistic spirit at home and abroad and is convinced that a permanent recovery of our people can only be achieved from within on the basis of the common good before individual good."

Once the Nazis came to power, the German Evangelical Church began to change.  In 1936 it was renamed the National Reich Church.  A member of the Nazi party was elected as its Bishop and non-Aryan ministers were suspended.   Church members were said to have "the Swastika on their chest and the Cross in their heart."

One of the Nazi Government’s most effective ways of corrupting religion was through the indoctrination of children.  All children had grown up with the Hitler Youth Movement, which had been created in the 1920's and by 1936 boasted 4 million members, boys and girls ages 10 through 18.  At first, attendance was voluntary.  However, Hitler Youth Meetings were held on Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings, times which interfered with most church activities, so children had to choose, a circumstance explored in Michael Terrell’s based-on-real-life novel Brothers in Valor.  Later, attendance in the Youth Movement became compulsory and competing activities, such as Boy Scouts and church-based programs, became illegal.  Children indoctrinated by the Nazi education program and Hitler Youth were encouraged to inform their teachers if their parents, priests or pastors made disparaging comments about Hitler.         

Not everyone in Germany was happy to let the Nazis have so much control of religion. The Kreisau Circle, a group of churchmen, scholars and politicians, was one of the most famous groups to oppose Hitler. Rather than plan active resistance against the Nazi government, the Kreisau Circle planned for Germany’s future. When the Gestapo learned of the organization and rounded up and executed its members.

There was also dissent within the National Reich Church.   In 1934 Martin Niemöller convinced 6,000 of the 8,000 ministers in the National Reich Church to split off and form The Confessing Church.  Its founding document, the Barmen Confession of Faith, declared that the church's allegiance was to God and scripture, not a worldly Führer. The Nazis reacted strongly to this challenge.  Niemöller himself was arrested in 1937 and sent to Dachau, then Sachsenhausen.  He wasn’t released until 1945.  Around 800 other ministers were arrested and sent to concentration camps.  

The leaders of the Catholic Church were initially more suspicious of Nazism than their Protestant counterparts. Rabid anti-Catholicism of figures such as Alfred Rosenberg, a leading Nazi ideologue during the Nazi rise to power, raised early concerns among Catholic leaders in Germany and at the Vatican. Some bishops even prohibited their parishioners from joining the Nazi Party.  However, in 1933 Hitler signed an accord with the Pope in which he promised full religious freedom for the Church, which he described as the “foundation” for German values.  The Pope responded by promising that he wouldn’t interfere in political matters.  Soon after, the Nazis began closing Catholic churches and monasteries.  Like the Boy Scouts, the Catholic Youth Organization was abolished. Around 700 priests were arrested and sent to the concentration camps for what the government called “oppositional activities”.

Other, smaller churches suffered under Nazi persecution as well.  The Mormons were forced to give up their extensive youth programs and were monitored for anti-German sentiments because of their connections with America.  About one-third of Jehovah Witnesses were killed in concentration camps because their pacifist stand made them refuse to serve in the German army.  The Salvation Army, The Christian Saints and The Seventh Day Adventist Church disappeared from Germany during the Nazi regime.

The battle between church and state was not only fought in Germany.  Once its forces were defeated, France also fell under the influence of the Nazi Party.  It was divided into two zones, one of which was occupied by the German army.  The Vichy Government, which was sympathetic to the German cause, controlled the other half of France.  Its leader, an aging World War I hero named General Petain, who declared that he had a moral necessity to free France from decadence and corruption.  With sanctions from the Catholic Church and the Nazi Party, he purged the political Left and demoted Jews, communists and Freemasons to second class citizens and enemies of the state.  As in Germany, his task was made easier by the indoctrination of the young in schools and social programs.  By 1942, internment camps throughout France were filled with Jews and others considered to be morally subversive to French culture.

The Nazi State used religion in its war for the hearts and minds of the German people and the world.  They created a church that was racist and anti-Semitic, and they persecuted anyone who chose to defy or deny their vision.  And yet, through all the persecution, people of conscience representing every denomination strived to rescue Jews and other groups which the Nazi state considered undesirable.  In both Germany and France there were individuals who fought, either openly or quietly, to countermand the government and its policies. God bless those people, and those who continue to fight for truth and love amid the chaos of politics and prejudice. 

Today marks the 70th anniversary of D-Day.

On June 6, 1944, Allied troops stormed the beaches of Normandy in what might arguably be called the turning point of World War II.

The operation was huge.  Some 5,000 vessels, 11,000 aircraft, and 150,000 personnel came across the English Channel on that day.  Approximately 100,000 of those personnel were soldiers or marines.   By the end of the day, 9,000 of them were killed or wounded.

While no one knew the exact location or date it was to occur, the invasion was not unexpected.  The Germans began fortifying the coast of France in 1942.  This construction was part of what was known as The Atlantic Wall, a series of fortifications stretching from Northern Norway to the Spanish border. Under Field Marshal Erwin Rommel's direction, thousands of forced laborers from Poland, France and other conquered countries were impressed into service constructing a series of steel reinforced concrete pillboxes.  Six million mines were laid on the beaches and fields of Northern France.  Fields that looked like possible landing sites for paratroopers were flooded or planted with sharpened poles, which Germans called Rommelspargel (Rommel's asparagus).

The Allies made sure to keep the Germans guessing as to where the invasion was going to come.  The fleet of rubber ships and plywood tanks on display near Dover, across from Pas-de-Calais, at the narrowest point between France and England, fooled many Germans into believing that the invasion was going to come here.  Others believed that the invasion was going to occur in Norway.

But it came in Normandy, and for a while the eyes of the whole world were focused there.

For more information on D-Day, including video and newsreels, click here.

The Bohnhoff boys laughingly refer to family vacations as death marches.  We routinely try to pack too many adventures into too little time.  Frequently we don't plan adequately for little things like eating and sleeping.

I researched the story known as Code: Elephants on the Moon while on one such vacation with my family in the summer of 2005.  Our plan was to take an overnight flight to Paris, spend one night sleeping and getting over jet lag, then take a train to Caen, and a bus to Ouistreham where we would pick up the bikes I had reserved over the internet, then ride 12 miles to Amblie, a little Norman village where we had rented a house for the week.  While exhausting, this plan seemed doable.  We packed lightly in suitcases that converted to backpacks and headed out with high hopes.

But things seldom go as planned.  We ended up spending our first night in Paris in Dallas after our flight was delayed 24 hours.  Determined to keep on schedule, we got off the plane midmorning and immediately made our way to the St. Lazaire train station, just in time to buy tickets and scramble aboard a train. We had no idea that some seats were reserved and some were not, so of course we sat in seats reserved by others, who happened to be French and not at all entertained by our lack of understanding.  Soon we were on our way.  Without, of course, any provisions for lunch.  But that was okay.  After all, we had gotten a small breakfast on the plane and the train trip was only two hours.  We would be in Caen in time for lunch.

And we were.  But, careful travelers that we are, we decided to first make our way to the bus station and check the schedule before eating.  Of course, we arrived just in time to buy tickets and leap onto an out bound bus.  No problem.  Caen is only 17 km from Ouistreham.  Google maps says it takes 16 minutes.  21 in traffic.  But Google maps didn't account the frequent stops that a bus makes.  I don't remember how long the ride actually took us, but by the time we arrived in Ouistreham we were hungry and tired and jet lag had caught up with us.  Big time.

We must have looked terrible by the time we dragged our sleep deprived bodies into the bike shop; terrible enough that the workers adjusted the heights of the seats, then told us that they would drive us to Amblie in their little car and deliver the bikes the next day  My husband was too proud to accept this offer, but I wasn't.  While he and my two older sons rode through the picturesque countryside my youngest son and I careened through the French countryside in the back of a tiny car being driven by a woman who spoke French as rapidly as she drove. Before she left us she made sure that the proprietess of the property we rented knew that we needed a ride to the nearest market to get supplies.  We were in good hands.

John Adams, Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson may have been among the first Americans in France, but they weren't the last.  Americans have been fascinated with France since the very beginning. 

During World War I thousands of young American men arrived in France as part of the AEF, the American Expeditionary Force.  Although the boys who went "Over There" were called "Yanks" or "Sammies" (from 'Uncle Sam'), their most popular nickname was "Doughboys," a name that may have come from the adobe dust that covered marching foot soldiers involved in American military operations on the Mexican border in 1916. My grandfather was one of these doughboys.

There were Americans in France even before America entered the war.  Many adventurous and idealistic young men, among them Ernest Hemingway, John Dos Passos, Julian Green, William Seabrook, E. E. Cummings, and Dashiell Hammett, served as ambulance drivers attached to the French forces before the United States entered the war. Many of these men, both adventurers and regular doughboys, became enamored with France.  “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast,” Hemingway wrote decades after having discovered the adventure of the city in 1918 at the age of 19.  Some, like a character in Code: Elephants on the Moon, stayed to recuperate from wounds (there are some great photos of them, like the one below, at http://www.firstworldwar.com/photos/medical.htm).  

After the war, some of the AEF found that going home and settling down wasn't easy.  A popular song of the period asked "how ya gonna keep 'em down on the farm after they've seen Paree?"  It was a valid question.  Many disliked postwar American culture, seeing its social mores as moralistic, standardized, and vulgarized. Others felt that America had become a civilization of businessmen devoted to the worship of materialism. To them France represented ancient wisdom, history and refinement. 

Because it offered a cultural environment free of the racial obsessions of American society, France also appealed to African-Americans. Writer Richard Wright, entertainer Josephine Baker, and jazz musicians Arthur Briggs, Benny Carter, and Dexter Gordon were a few of the prominent African-Americans who found a home in France after World War I.

Eventually, though, Americans began to leave Paris.  Some, like Hemingway, were addicted to the excitement of war and found even postwar France too tame.  They left for other conflicts, most notably the Spanish Civil War, where Americans volunteered as soldiers, technicians, medical personnel and aviators in the Abraham Lincoln Brigade.  Approximately 2,800 American volunteers fought for the Spanish Republicans against Franco and the Spanish Nationalist.  Between 750 and 800 died. Other Americans in France got homesick, changed their minds about France and returned to the States.

France itself was changing.  In the 1930s France was rocked by the same extreme social tensions and class warfare that brought Hitler to power in January 1933.  A year later, in February 1934, several thousand fascists and Royalists mobilized and brought down the French government.  They accused Jews, communists, and foreigners, including Americans, of being mentally deficient and culturally detrimental to France. As the war drew nearer, Americans fled France.  After the German invasion, a considerable number of the French people backed the Vichy regime and collaborated with the Nazis.

There are no official numbers available for how many Americans live in France today, but estimates near 100,000.  Nearly three million Americans vacation or visit France every year.  My family and I were five of the Americans who visited in 2005, and that visit led to Code: Elephants on the Moon.

What's in a name?  Juliet asked that question.  She swore that she would love Romeo even if he had a different name.  But really, we know better.  Would we still be reading Shakespeare's play if it had been titled Fred and Juliet?

Right now I feel like seconding Juliet when she says "'Tis but thy name that is thy enemy."  Right now, at least, I like the manuscript that I'm busily formatting to make it acceptable to publish as an ebook.  I've written and rewritten and edited and gone through numerous critiques, and I think it's as good as it's going to get, and that's pretty darn good. No, it's not the "dear perfection" of Romeo.  And it's not Shakespeare.  But it's not bad, either. I've talked with a couple of people about producing cover art and I think I've found my man and found a good, solid vision for what the cover should look like.  But I can't make that cover until I settle on the title that's going to be emblazoned on it.  

A title.  A name.  There's the rub, to quote yet another Shakespeare play quite out of context.  Hamlet was dealing with really serious stuff there.  Life and death stuff.  And Juliet was dealing with stuff that, apparently, she thought even more serious than life and death.  She was dealing with love.  Being a middle school teacher, I can attest that matters of love are far more serious that matters of life and death.  And me?  I'm not dealing with love, or even life and death. All I want is a title that is interesting enough to make people want to pick up my novel without being misleading enough to make them mad once they've started reading.

Sigh.  That title is indeed my enemy.

It's not finding a title that's hard.  I've had several titles for this manuscript.  When I first started writing it, I called it Eponine Rides.  That struck me as a dandy title at the time.  The main character's name is Eponine, and she does ride her horse, Galopin, several times throughout the story. Besides, I'd heard an editor say that what she was really looking for was the next Black Beauty.  But several agents, editors and critique groups let me know that this wasn't the title I wanted.  This rose did not smell so sweet.  It downright stunk.  

So out went Eponine Rides and in came Identity.   The new title was suggested by an editor who ultimately rejected the manuscript, but not after telling me that this was the perfect title.  It made sense.  Eponine discovers in the course of the story that she is not who she thinks she is.  Neither is her mother.  Or her father.  Or most everyone else, for that matter.  And she discovers that her situation isn't what she'd imagined, either.  So this new title seemed to sum up the whole premise of the story.  Besides, singe word titles seem to have such authority.  Think Ian McEwan's Atonement and Josephine Hart's Damage.  Not to mention (again) Hamlet.  But then one friend showed me that there are already ten different books that are called Identity.  Others told me that the title was boring, and finally I admitted that this, too, was a stinker.  Identity might be the theme of the novel, but it's not a good title.

Up next: a title suggested by a writing friend.  She suggested Elephants on the Moon, one of the criptic phrases that the Free French used in their BBC addresses to let members of the underground Resistance know what was going on.  It's an important phrase in the story, and it's got appeal because, believe it or not, there's not a single other book out there with that name.  But would someone reading that title realize that the book was an historical novel set in France during World War II, or would they think it was a fantasy like Eleanor Cameron's Wonderful Flight to the Mushroom Planet? The last thing I want is disgruntled readers thinking they've been cheated out of their adventures to Basidium.

So now I'm thinking of Rider for the Resistance, which is almost full circle back to my original title.  Or Resistance Rider.  Or Coded Message: Elephants on the Moon.  Or The Identity of Elephants.  Or Eponine and Galopin.  Or Romeo and Eponine and Fred. And none of those other names smell sweet to me yet.

It's clear I've got more weeding to do.