Tuesday, December 16, 2014

In Memory of Corporal Steve J. Peakler on the 70th Anniversary of the Battle of the Bulge



This month marks the 70th anniversary of the Battle of the Bulge, that famous WWII Allied victory that proved to be the final blow to Hitler’s efforts towards world domination.  By in large, since the Allies’ successful landing on the Normandy shores of France six months earlier, the Allies had pushed Hitler and his forces to the brink of defeat.  The Bulge was Hitler’s last great chance to stem that tide.  It was during the Battle of the Bulge that Corporal Steve J. Peakler of Dunmore, Pennsylvania was killed in action on Dec. 21, 1944 at Elsenborn Ridge in the Ardennes forest of Belgium.  He was 28 years old.  Steve was one of the 19,000 Americans who was killed during the battle that lasted from Dec. 16, 1944 to Jan. 25, 1945.
 
History often credits the fight for the hub town of Bastogne as the key turning point in the battle, but it is important to note that Elsenborn Ridge was just as central, if not more crucial to the Allies’ victory.  Like Bastogne, the Elsenborn Ridge was a hub from which key roads sprung; roads that led to the essential Meuse River and the tactical port city of Antwerp.  The Americans stationed there were burdened with the task of preventing the most elite of Hitler’s troops from reaching the nearby towns, towns that held large amounts of supplies – supplies the Germans would need if they were to advance the battle.

Steve was attached to the 38th Infantry Regiment of the 2nd U.S. Army Division present at the battle that December.  At Elsenborn Ridge, Steve and his fellow Americans successfully stopped the strongest armored units the Germans had in play during the battle – renowned Panzer tank units esteemed so highly by Hitler himself.  It's worth noting that the only American sector of the front line that wasn’t pushed back by the German advance during the Battle of the Bulge was at Elsenborn Ridge.  Corporal Peakler was one of 5,000 Americans who gave his life to defend that essential, defensive, Allied position.

In an address to the House of Commons in London following the Battle of the Bulge, Winston Churchill said, “This is undoubtedly the greatest American battle of the war and will, I believe, be regarded as an ever famous American victory.”  Seventy years after that battle, we should remember all those like Steve Peakler who gave their own lives and futures to ensure that we might enjoy ours in the peace that this victory and others like it secured for us.

Corporal Peakler is buried at the Henri-Chapelle American War Cemetery in Liege, Belgium.  He was posthumously awarded the Purple Heart.  He entered service on Jan. 24, 1941 as a Private in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania.  He rests with 7,992 other American soldiers who were killed during WWII and buried at Henri-Chapelle Cemetery in Belgium.  On the seventieth anniversary of that famous battle and Steve’s passing, we owe Steve and all those who gave so unselfishly of themselves to remember and honor their sacrifice with the respect and dignity it so rightly deserves.


Friday, September 12, 2014

A review of Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption

     Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption by Laura Hillenbrand, is the remarkable true story of Army Air Force Lieutenant Louis Zamperini. An Olympian from the 1936 Berlin games, Zamperini’s life as a world-class runner would be turned upside down as he found himself pulled into WWII with the rest of his generation. Zamperini would become a bombardier in the Army Air Force, finding himself stranded on a raft for weeks with two other survivors after their plane crashed into the Pacific Ocean. From here his story becomes an incomparable study on the nature of one man’s endurance to survive the harsh truths of war.

     After the Japanese pulled Louie and pilot Russell Allen Phillips from the ocean, the unspeakable cruelty at the hands of the American airmen's captors becomes beyond what is considered acceptable among civilized people. With a total disregard for the Geneva Conventions' rules that were put in place after WWI to ensure the humane treatment of prisoners of war, the Japanese embarked on a torturous & unjustifiable rampage against their prisoners.

     Unbroken is certainly not an easy read, but it demands to be read as it speaks to the greatness of Louis Zamperini’s generation and what they achieved for the world through their courage. His story does not end with the conclusion of the war nor with his liberation from the prisoner of war camp, but continued through to his redemption. His post-war story is a stark reminder of what the survivors of war must have endured to reclaim their lives (if they were so lucky to do so). Fortunately for Louis Zamperini and those whom he touched and loved, he was able to find a place of forgiveness, peace, and joy again in his life. Author Laura Hillenbrand’s telling of how he achieved this conclusion for himself is well thought-out and delivered.

     I wanted to read this book before the premiere of the movie about Mr. Zamperini’s life due in theatres in December of 2014. Mr. Zamperini passed away recently, before his story was projected onto the screen for the world to see. Before he did, Louis Zamperini showed the world what it meant to survive with dignity and grace, and showed how he was able to transform the struggle and strife he experienced during the war into forgiveness and hope.

     Great books are transformative. Unbroken is one of those -- it stays with you long after the final page has been read. With what Louis Zamperini and those like him endured, we should expect no less.         

Friday, May 2, 2014

Reflections


It’s been almost 1 ½ years since The Sanctity Of Love And War was first published.  Since that time, I’ve been fortunate enough to have taken part in many book club discussions, book signings, and a book reading.  I’ve also had the pleasure to be interviewed about the experience of writing the novel.  Each experience has led to a greater awareness of myself in relationship to the book that I’ve written.  Since this was the time of year when I first handed-in my original manuscript to an editor, I thought it was an appropriate time to reflect upon the process of arriving at the final draft of the book.
It was April of 2012 when I first made the decision to publish the novel I’d been working on for almost two years.  When I had first begun to write, it was with the belief that no one but I would ever read the words I had committed to the page.  The act of writing was and remains to be a very unique and personal experience for me.   Allowing the public access to my inner thoughts, even if they were in the form of fiction, was a daunting prospect.  Once I let go of those fears, I decided that I wanted to incorporate my own internal questioning with what I had come to know of the world around me.  This included my past relationships as well as what I had learned spiritually from those who were more evolved than I. 
My sense of grounding was rooted in my upbringing, particularly as it pertained to the influence my maternal grandparents had in my life.  My siblings, cousins, and I all benefited from their strong sense of family.  To this day, we don’t take for granted those lessons that were handed down to us by our grandparents -- first generation Americans who had the right set of values and priorities in life.  In many ways, I felt more connected to their generation than I’ve ever really felt to my own.  As a child I would sit with them, soaking in their stories and influence, knowing even then how fortunate I was to have their presence in my life.  As a result of this truth, the character of Piper was born.
To a large extent, the decision to plunge Piper and the character of Bo into an internal struggle for acceptance derived from my experiences as a drug and alcohol counselor.  The years in that field have never left me, and despite the fact that I have been out of that line of work for almost twelve years, I still identify with it, and, in many ways, still consider myself an addictions therapist.  I was always intrigued by the sense of acceptance when the world doesn’t bend to one’s whims, the possibility that someone could surrender to the idea of powerlessness, and the human capacity to let go in the face of doubt and fear.  I’ve had mentors, friends, and clients who successfully made these things a part of their personal creed.  Their own struggles with addiction as well as their ultimate ability to transcend them brought them to a deeper understanding and appreciation of life.  It made me wonder how someone without the hurdle of addiction but who’s still plagued with doubts and struggles might arrive at the same place of spiritual peace.  In place of addiction, I chose the circumstances of war in which to place my heroine.  Piper, already predisposed to being a thoughtful, deep soul based on the influence of her grandfather, was ripe for the internal struggle that a war would bring to her life.
When I think back on the beginnings of The Sanctity Of Love And War, it was a forgone conclusion that it would be set during one of the most pivotal times during my grandparents’ lives – World War II.  My memories of my grandparents coupled with my experiences as a drug and alcohol counselor were the foundation for the book.  From the day the original manuscript was sent to my editor, I’ve been able to connect with so many wonderful people from that generation – my grandparents’ generation.  There are very few left in my family who were alive during that time, and each day, as a nation, we lose more and more from that generation.  It’s out of the deepest regard for them that the characters from the novel were created. 
I recommend to everyone to seek out those still living from that time.  Whether it’s a visit to a local veterans’ home, a talk with a family member, neighbor, or friend who was living during the time of that war, or a trip to Washington, D.C. to visit the WWII Memorial, the small effort you make to connect to the past would be rewarded tenfold.  If you allow yourself to be open to the past, you can hear the voices and lessons clearly drifting through the years.  It’s a lesson I learned as a little girl listening to and spending time with my grandparents. 
The idea of being a present and willing listener was only heightened when I became a drug & alcohol counselor.  It was here that I learned to see the power of humble transcendence.  The recovery concepts of acceptance and surrender are living symbols of survival and humanity, two key points I hoped to cover in the book.  Hopefully, the lessons learned from the generation that survived World War II as well as those gained from working with those who have survived their ordeals with addiction have been thoughtfully laid out in The Sanctity Of Love And War.
Writing remains for me a self-exploratory way to try to understand the world.  As a licensed therapist, I appreciate the importance of self-exploration in context with one’s past, present, and potential.  What started out as an honest effort at self-discovery and insight into the world around me provided me with so much more than I could have ever dreamed.  The insights, connections, experiences, and relationships that have arisen from the publication of The Sanctity Of Love And War have been humbly gratifying – something for which I will forever remain thankful.

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Honoring the Generation that inspired THE SANCTITY OF LOVE AND WAR



    THE SANCTITY OF LOVE AND WAR is set during one of the most tumultuous times in our nation's (and the world's) history.  Almost 70 years have passed since the end of World War II, but the legacy of that generation is one that I think is important for present and future generations to revere.  It's no secret that my respect for the generation of WWII was one of the main reasons why I chose that time period for my novel.  There are valuable lessons to be learned from that time, and ongoing respect to be paid to those who lived through it. 
     Recently, my nieces and nephew joined me in delivering cookies to the veterans of WWII who reside at the Gino Merli Center in Scranton, Pennsylvania.  I felt this would provide a positive lesson for the younger set of this present generation so they might understand the gift that the WWII generation has given to them through their sacrifices.  My nephew in particular was interested in speaking with the veterans.  We spoke at length to a gentleman who was present and who vividly recalled the events of Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941.  He told my nephew his memory of playing sports with his friends when the surprise attack began.  It was wonderful to see the interest in my nephew's eyes as this elderly man held his attention through his compelling storytelling.  My nephew was in awe to be speaking to a living war hero, someone who went on to fight in the war and come through to live and tell the tale.  What was perhaps the most compelling part of the story was the fact that there was no bravado or ego involved in its telling -- something quite typical of the generation who lived that war.
     I'm a firm believer that history shouldn't and need not merely be words written on some dusty pages.  It should be a living, breathing reminder of what has happened in the past.  Our history teachers have a challenge to invite interest on the part of their young students; to seek out the living remnants of the past; to inform in such a way as to ignite passionate curiosity in the young minds of the present generation.  This isn't an easy challenge, but it's one I think we owe to those who sacrificed what they did so that we might be free to have open discussions about our past.  It's a challenge, but it is possible.  All one needs to do to understand this possibility is to imagine the face of a young boy who reverently listened as an old man spoke of the past.   This elderly man, a living history in and of himself, held a young boy's interest in his hands as he relived for him an infamous day in history over 70 years ago.