It's been three years this December since THE SANCTITY OF LOVE AND WAR has been published. Like many, I find my thoughts dwelling on Christmases past this time of year. My own past is tied irrevocably to my grandparents who were a part of the generation that defined the Second World War; the generation that I hoped to have honored in writing the novel. Whenever I hear Bing Crosby's White Christmas, I think of the American soldiers from that time in history, so far from home, longing for their families and happier Christmas memories. I contemplate the men, many of whom were still boys, huddled in their foxholes for warmth and cover during a battle that began only nine days before Christmas 1944 -- The Battle of the Bulge; a battle that would continue through Christmas before the Allies would finally be able to claim victory at the end of January 1945. Many of those boys never made it home to see another Christmas. I think of men like Steve Peakler who died during the Bulge, never to enjoy the kind of peaceful holiday we're all free to enjoy because of his and other's sacrifice that Christmas of 1944. For this reason, I can't help but think of the WWII generation during Christmas. Here's what was written in the Author's Notes section of THE SANCTITY OF LOVE AND WAR:
Author’s Note
I am indebted to the generation of
Americans who lived during World War II.
There is a reason why they’ve come to be known as “the greatest
generation”. My maternal grandmother
meticulously kept letters her brothers wrote to her during the time they fought
in Europe. Their words helped set the
tone and feel of the letters found throughout this book.
While Mark Linton is a fictitious
character, the deeds described which led to the honor of him receiving the Navy
Cross were based, in part, on those of my father’s cousin, Anthony Francis
“Frank” Gilroy. Frank did indeed serve
as a lieutenant, Navy Dive Bomber, on the USS
Hancock during WWII. For his heroism
during the Battle of Leyte Gulf, he was awarded the Navy Cross. Thankfully, Frank survived the war. Today, he lives with his family on Long
Island. He is one of the few remaining
heroes of that period in history.
Like most of his generation, Frank
expects no accolades or thanks for what he accomplished during the war. When I contacted him to offer my appreciation
and gratitude for what he had risked and achieved, he humbly brushed aside my
words. Consistent with his generation,
he was more content disavowing my acknowledgement of his deeds, preferring
instead to continue to live his life in a peaceful, unassuming manner.
The character of Steve Peakler is
based on a man who had the same name.
Steve hailed from Dunmore, Pennsylvania, and like many men during that
time, he left a sweetheart behind. That
girl was my grandmother’s younger sister.
I found a letter Steve had written to my grandmother when he was in
Europe. In that letter, he reminded my
grandmother to never take for granted the freedoms that peace afforded back in
the States. In that same letter, he
shared his hopes and dreams for the future as well as his desire to make it
home. Unfortunately, that day never
came. Corporal Steve J. Peakler was
killed on December 21, 1944, during the Battle of the Bulge. My grandmother and great-aunt never forgot
Steve. I can still recall the loving way
they always spoke of him. Including him
in this book was my small way of honoring his memory.
This book started out as an honest
attempt to make sense of the world and its history. The decision to base it in the time period in
which it’s set was no accident. My
siblings, cousins, and I grew up with a reverent-like love and appreciation for
our grandparents. Setting the book
during the 1940’s was, in part, to honor them.
After my grandparents passed away, I
came across old notebooks and journals my grandmother carefully kept through
the years. She and her friends had a
social club that existed and continued throughout the war years. The minutes contained in those journals and
notebooks of their monthly meetings served as a rich source of information of
what life must have truly been like during the war for those who were left behind. Included were the details of life, ranging
from the mundane to the more serious. It
was from here that I could almost imagine what nightly blackouts were like as
the ladies described such things as having “a leisurely discussion in the
dark”. Through their words, the past
came back to life. I was reminded again
that life in America went on despite the war.
The present generation often lacks
an understanding of or curiosity for what that generation accomplished and
experienced. I hope this book serves as
a reminder that we will forever be indebted to the humble men and women who
made the world a better place through their deeds and actions during one of the
most crucial times in world history.
Amy M.
Ferguson
September
2012
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