Real Life Heroes: Gen. James M. Gavin

By Carrie Lofty

Born in New York to poor Irish parents, possibly illegitimately, in 1907, James Gavin was adopted by a coal mining family in 1909. Knowing his parents would want him to go into coal mining too, he ran away from home at age 17 and convinced an army recruiter to let him volunteer as an orphan. His first assignment was in Panama, where he showed great promise as a young enlistee with a thirst for knowledge. A sergeant and mentor suggested that he apply to the local Army school in Belize, where top graduates could merit the opportunity to study at West Point.

Despite only a 7th grade education and his many duties as a soldier, Gavin's dedication and daily hours of tutoring earned his acceptance to West Point. He graduated, barely 22 at the time, after having spent each morning in the bathroom to study. (The bathroom was the only place with enough light at 4:30am.) After his commissioning as a second lieutenant, he married Irma Baulsir in 1929.

Following postings in Arizona, Georgia, and Oklahoma, he wound up in the Philippines in 1936 and saw first-hand the Japanese build-up of troops, whereas the US military in the region consisted of 20,000 men still equipped with WWI-era technology. He was promoted to captain 18 months later and was put in charge of his own company in Vancouver. By this time his marriage was seriously damaged, no matter the birth of his daughter, Barbara.

All of this might seem like a rather determined up-by-your-bootstraps story, if somewhat ordinary.

But then came WWII.

Gavin once again returned to West Point, this time as a tactical instructor. He became fascinated with German blitzkrieg operations, Stonewall Jackson's movement tactics, and the German use of paratroop infantry. Eventually these threads would coalesce as he volunteered for a brand new US airborne unit in spring of 1941.

He did so well at the airborne school that he was made head tactician to institute a unified code of rules and procedures for the new unit, which went along with his promotion to major. He literally wrote the book on airborne strategy for the US Army, called FM 31-30: Tactics and Technique of Air-Borne Troops. The war accelerated his positions of leadership as general after general realized his potential. Upon the creation of the 82nd Airborne division--the "All Americans"--Gavin was given command of the 505th PIR (Parachute Infantry Regiment) and was promoted to colonel.

Gavin continued to be instrumental in utilizing airborne techniques in combat. He learned from the mistakes of Operation Husky, battled the fierce conditions in North Africa, and prepared the 82nd for D-Day in 1944, where he was brigadier general in charge of parachute troops. At the time he only expected three out of every ten men who jumped would survive, a frank estimate that was among his most difficult to bear. He jumped with his men on June 6, becoming the youngest general to participate in D-Day operations. He was 37.

After leading the 82nd into combat during the failed Operation Market Garden drop into the Netherlands, Gavin and his men survived the horrors of that dreadful 1944-45 winter. He became very close to Marlene Dietrich. She was a tremendous force in the USO, and some argued that she stayed with Gavin because many assumed his men would be the first to enter Berlin. Wanted by Hitler because of her decision to become an American, Dietrich was in search of her mother and sister, who had been held for years in a concentration camp. (Dietrich was reunited with her mother month's before the woman's death. Her sister, however, had not been held against her will, but had married a camp guard. Dietrich never spoke to her again.) This relationship between Gavin and Dietrich ended his turbulent marriage.

Despite his troublesome home life, Gavin's post-war career remained ground-breaking. He worked throughout his remaining thirteen years in the army to desegregate the military, and many claimed Gavin to be the most "color-blind" commander in the US. His continued fascination with swift, safe deployment and extraction of troops led to a heavy reliance on helicopters during Vietnam, as well as early strategies involving mechanized troops and automated planes.

Upon retiring as a lieutenant general with the Distinguished Service Cross, the Distinguished Service Medal, the Silver Star, and the Purple Heart, he transformed industrial consulting firm Arthur D. Little from a $10 million domestic enterprise to a $70 million international powerhouse. He served as president and CEO for 17 years before his retirement in 1977. He also served as Kennedy's ambassador to France because of close post-war ties to Charles De Gaulle, and authored or co-authored five books on history and military tactics.

He even managed to turn himself into a real-life hero on the personal front. After his difficult first marriage, Gavin married Jean Emert Duncan in 1948. They were husband and wife for 42 years until his death in 1990, survived by five daughters, ten grandkids, and three great-grandkids. Not bad for an Irish orphan from Brooklyn who began his military career as a barely-literate 17-year-old private.

Carrie Lofty's latest historical romances, SCOUNDREL'S KISS and SONG OF SEDUCTION, are available now. In 2011 watch for Carrie's new Victorian series from Pocket, as well as her "Dark Age Dawning" romance trilogy from Berkley, co-written with Ann Aguirre under the name Ellen Connor. "Historical romance needs more risk-takers like Lofty." ~ Wendy the Super Librarian

What Surprised Me: Picacho Peak

By Lorelie Brown

Mention the US Civil War and I pretty much think of the Eastern Seaboard. South Carolina, Virginia, Mississippi. You know, the South, with all the images that invokes.

So imagine my surprise on moving to Arizona and discovering I'm living in the vicinity of the westernmost Civil War battle, fought in the sand and cacti and rocks. Huh.

Now where the westernmost battle was kinda depends on your definition of "battle."

But lemme back up really quick. Arizona didn't exactly exist before the Civil War broke out. The land it now encompasses was actually part of the Territory of New Mexico. But as military officers were called back to the various folds and had to decide where their loyalties laid, someone got the bright idea to carve out part of New Mexico and call it the Arizona Territory--and claim it for the Confederacy.

They really wanted Southern California, to give the Confederacy access to the Pacific Ocean, but that never really happened. Instead California troops fought for the Union, including driving the Johnny Rebs back pretty handily into the desert. (Johnny Rebs don't belong in the desert. Didn't anyone tell them that?)

Control of the stagecoach routes fed into this back-and-forth. Each side wanted 'em, naturally, because who wouldn't want the established, easy-to-navigate routes? So here we come back to our original topic--the farthest west battle.

There was an engagement at Stanwix Station, near Yuma, but calling it a battle is a little bit of a stretch. Confederate troops were burning hay meant for California cavalry horses and they got busted. Whoops. There was a small shoot out, but the only casualty was one Union soldier who healed up just fine apparently. But Stanwix Station is still up for consideration because bullets passed back and forth.

But then we come to Picacho Peak Pass, which is kind of the leader for the title of "westernmost Civil War battle." On April 15, 1862, Lieutenant James Barrett lead approximately a dozen men, looking for the Confederates reported to be lurking nearby, though they weren't supposed to actually engage. Well, they found them. From what I can tell, they kind of stumbled onto three of the Confederates and promptly captured them. But they sort of missed the seven other men, who opened fire. And Barrett kept his men pursuing the Johnny Rebs even into a thicket. Perhaps not his best decision, and it has the unfortunate distinction of being his last. He died in the hour and a half long battle, along with two Union privates.

Every year, Civil War re-enactors show up at Picacho Peak Pass and play out the skirmish. But over the years, the event has grown and more than the needed two-dozen men show up. They've had to expand into New Mexico battles to fill their time. But I hear it's a grand old time. The Picacho Peak State Park was slated to be shut down to help Arizona make up their huge budget shortfalls, but it's been saved by an arrangement with local governments to take over the costs. So I do believe I might have to check it out next year.

Expansion & Invasion: I Was 11 During the Franco-Prussian War...

By Jennifer Linforth

I was eleven when I saw the first wrinkle of worry crack the well-crafted mask of indifference that was my brother's face.

All my younger years my brother, Philippe Georges Marie, the Comte de Chagny, was in charge. A philanthropist, womanizer and pillar of Paris, an outrageous risk taker and man of irreproachable conscience and heart—he was always smiling, always in control never--fearful.

Never, until the echo of Prussian boots fell upon the muddy streets of Paris, dull against the cobbles yet echoing loudly the change that was to come. The eighteenth of January was the day a new German empire was declared at Versailles, a place of revelry for my brother and his kin, a place where I, as the Vicomte de Chagny, longed to one day roam.

I would not be roaming there during the winter of my eleventh year.

The comte tried to explain to me best he could why several enormous armies were established in France's provinces--this in light of the German blockade of Paris. All I knew was I could not go to the city I so adored as a child. I could not taste youthful pleasure in the seat of a salon. I could not dine at my favorite cafés. My estate became my prison. Chateau de Changy became a tomb as we avoided being seen outside its marbled walls. The French troops were marching toward Paris, I was told, to attack the Germans from all sides.

The Germans were ill-pleased. They bombarded my beloved city, which only tightened our French resolve. "We will prevail, mon frere." My brother's words were the only thing keeping my youthful and rash head from leaping upon my horse and joining the ranks. Within a few weeks time war broke out across my country as the German armies lay scattered--for they were not prepared for an occupation the of the whole of France.

I thought we had prevailed. How wrong I was. My eleven-year-old mind could not comprehend the months that had passed since January, and by October 10th fighting erupted near Orléans. I remember the wrinkles deepening upon my brother's brow as he received word of the battle from Duc de Orléans. Would Chagny be next? The Germans were victorious as first--making my heart sink like a hunk of lead--until word came that my countrymen were triumphant at Coulmiers. At last! A light had cracked in the gloom of this war and November looked to belong to France. But the Germans--well-trained, numerous, with their needle guns--joined their forces from north to south and my countrymen abandoned Orléans by bleak and white December.

War continued until January of 1871. Paris was starving, innocent people--unprivileged, like I--were left in the cold streets, and my brother's ami, Jules Favre, traveled to Versailles to discuss peace with Bismark.

By now, I was approaching my twelfth year, and Bismark was a name I hated.

France was victorious in these talks--to a degree. Bismark permitted food convoys to enter Paris and I was left slightly guilty, for my belly was never empty through all this. Chagny had is secret stores--for didn't all nobility have secrets kept from the coffers of their governments? Bismark placed conditions on this aid--the Government of the National Defense was to surrender key fortresses outside of Paris to his Prussian army. Opposed, but realistic they could not defend Paris without their forts, the Government gave in. Our president resigned. Favre took over.

He surrendered two days later...

It would not be until 10th May that the Treaty of Frankfurt was signed and the war ended. Yet it would not be over not for those with titles to our name.

Paris was changed. Our government was changed. I watched The Commune rise. I avoided the dungeons, the anger, and the resentment of the lower class thanks to my brother. As I grew into my title, my title would grow to a fossil of a bygone era thanks to the first dull echoes of Prussian boots on muddy cobbles.

Many years later I would see the Communard dungeons deep below in the cellars of the Opera Garnier. I would not be placed there by the lower class Parisians resentful of my titled name. I would be shackled and chained there by a deviant madman--a Phantom of the Opera. But that is a story for another time. Until then, I would leave my legacy carved on the cold stone walls....

R. C.

It was then, the first wrinkle of worry cracked the well-crafted mask of indifference that was my face...

~Raoul Jean-Paul Marie, Vicomte de Chagny.

World War II

I have to admit I have a soft spot for the two world war periods, especially from the English perspective. My parents were children in WWII and have told me of their memories of bombing raids and air raid shelters, wearing gas mask around their necks as they went to school.

I have an extra interest in WWII now because I've been offered a contract from Wild Rose Press for a WWII novel set in England 1944.

The Great War (1914-1918) was such a changing time. It was the first time women really came into their own and showed the male population that they could do more than simply housekeep and mother.

Although the times were hard and full of despair, such dramatic periods of peoples lives often give the best stories. What better way to create a happy ever after? The hero has been through hell in the trenches and the heroine has been left at home wondering, hoping, praying for news of her lover? There is no need to fight each other when there are larger issues to contend with!

WWII (1930- 1945) brought changes to the world again. Women, especially English women had a guaranteed place in this war: they served as nurses, ambulance drivers, in the munitions factories and on the land. They kept the country running, but they also became truly independent of people in their own right. Their dress styles changes as did their attitudes. The Americans came to England and showed English girls another type of man -- brash, cheeky, fun-loving and often much more wealthier. The GIs introduced new faster dances, which actually lifted the woman in the air and whoops, showed off her underwear!

All periods of history can be made interesting for a story, and wars give a double spin on things - the man away fighting, the woman home waiting and working, keeping it all together for her lovers return.

How can anyone say this isn't an interesting time to write about?