Where Do You Get Your Ideas?

Welcome back, James Benn!

This week Jim raises a proverbial question, by way of introducing something completely new for him. I already have an answer to his question for us  do you?

Every author has heard that question. Often.

For my latest book—the stand-alone novel SHARD—the idea came in a roundabout way. A few years ago, I read Laura Hillenbrand’s outstanding book UNBROKEN: A World War II story of survival, resilience, and redemption. It chronicles the experiences of Louis Zamperini and his years of hellish treatment as a prisoner of war in Japan. Near the end of the book, Hillenbrand discusses how Zamperini and other veterans adapted to life back home after the war. 

It wasn’t easy.

One fascinating tidbit stood out for me. One of the former POWs admitted he could not stop stealing food. He’d used his sleight of hand to swipe anything he could eat from his captors, and when he arrived back in the States, he simply couldn’t give up the habit.

I thought this was a telling emotional tic for a character, and I decided to write the story of a returning POW and his problems adjusting to civilian life. An uncontrollable urge to shoplift candy bars, cans of tuna fish, apples, and whatever else could go in his pocket would create challenges for the character and opportunities for storytelling.

So, I had my idea. Then I decided to move the setting forward a few years and make it the story of a returning POW from the Korean War. No big deal, I thought. It’s just a matter of reading a bit of history, right?

I was stunned by what I found. 

Until Korea, capture by the Japanese was considered to have been the most horrendous POW experience for American forces. But that changed with the treatment of American and other United Nations troops at the hands of the North Koreans and then the Chinese.

Of the 7,190 American servicemen captured during the Korean War, approximately 3,000 died in captivity. This mortality rate of 43 percent far exceeded the highest recorded death rate of American soldiers—34 percent—held in Japanese prisoner of war camps during World War II. To be an Allied prisoner in North Korea was a terrible and brutal fate. 

The Korean War was the first conflict in which the opposing powers desired to convert the thinking of American POWs, not simply incarcerate them for the duration. Torture was combined with repeated exposure to Communist propaganda, or “thought reform” as the Chinese termed it. The Chinese called the prisoners “war criminals,” because they had fought against Communism. They said POWs were dupes of their own “reactionary” and “imperialist” governments, and that if they reached the necessary state of repentance, they would be forgiven for their “war crimes.” 

Our government had not anticipated the enemy’s dedication to coercing POWs into confessing false war crimes or denouncing the evils of capitalism while praising the Marxist system. Prisoners were left to their own devices to deal with the intense demands of their captors. Some went along, often to gain access to extra rations. Others resisted and were harshly punished, often murdered. 

“Thought reform” was effective enough to convince twenty-one American soldiers to stay behind and live voluntarily in China.

 

When the war was over, the American government suppressed the truth of what went on in the camps, embarrassed by how our men succumbed to the pressures of captivity. The myth of “brainwashing” (from the Chinese word xǐnăo meaning wash brain) was born to explain away what had happened and to cover up the government’s lack of preparedness.

That’s when my thinking shifted. This wasn’t going to be a tale about a returned prisoner of war adjusting to life in the States. The story had to be set in the camps. The POW experience wasn’t going to be the backstory, it would be the story.

We meet Private Ethan Shard in 1950, part of the US Army of Occupation in Japan. He’s knee-deep in the black market, getting rich stealing from the Army and selling to Japanese gangs. All that changes when the North Koreans invade South Korea and overwhelm the defending forces. Ethan Shard is sent to war, along with his partner-in-crime Elliot “Skitter” Skinner, in a desperate attempt to stop the North Korean advance. In their first skirmish, the two men are captured. The brutality of their captors, the harsh and unforgiving climate, and the constant threat of betrayal all conspire to test Shard’s ability to survive.

All that’s left of my original idea is Shard’s light-fingered ways. In the camps, he constantly takes risks to steal even the tiniest morsel of food from his captors. In this hellish landscape, criminal skills mean the difference between life and death.

The photograph below is emblematic of what these men endured.

Meet US Army PFC John Ploch. This picture was taken at Freedom Village, the location in South Korea where American POWs were processed immediately after release. He’s fresh from a Chinese POW camp. He’s been deloused, had a shower, been given a shave and haircut, and outfitted with a new uniform. He’s been fed. Now he’s seated at a table with books spread out in front of him and a cup of coffee at hand. 

He’s in shock. The look in his eyes? That’s the book I tried to write.

So, where do you get your ideas?

The Third Verse

Guest Today: James Benn 

It's my pleasure this Monday, to bring back my fellow historical mystery writer James Benn.  For us today he has a bit of American history that resonates with what our country is going through in these challenging times.  His post is about a song most Americans think they know by heart, and it is  perfect story for the time between Flag Day and the 4th of July. 

A lot has changed since Colin Kaepernick first took a knee during the Star Spangled Banner in 2016. The National Football League has apologized for not listening to the concerns of African American players and taking a knee has spread throughout society as a symbol of protest against racial injustice.

But it’s still a divisive subject, as evidenced by the recent reaction to kneeling by members of the United States national soccer team.

All this led me to wonder, how much do I really know about the song which has become our national anthem?  We all remember the story of Francis Scott Key watching the rockets’ red glare at Baltimore. So I took a look at the lyrics. It turns out there’s more to the story, as there always is, once you dig deeper into history.

The first verse is, of course, instantly familiar. But there are four verses. I can’t say I’ve ever heard any of them sung, or even had any idea that they existed. The third verse stopped me in my tracks.

Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave.

No refuge could save the hireling and slave from . . . the gloom of the grave.
           

What is Francis Scott Key talking about?

It turns out he’s referring to the Corps of Colonial Marines, a Black unit of escaped, formerly enslaved men fighting in the War of 1812 on the side of the British. Rear Admiral Sir Alexander Cochrane ordered the raising of the force, promising transport to freedom for any escaped slaves and their families, as well as the offer of service in His Majesty’s military. Cochrane’s second in command, Sir George Cockburn of the Royal Navy, raised over 6,000 troops from such escapees. He trained and armed a strong force of ex-slaves, some of whom stormed Washington D.C. when the British burned the White House, then called the President’s House.

Francis Scott Key certainly would have recalled his own humiliation and defeat from his personal encounter with those Black troops.

            A company of the Colonial Marines fought at the Battle of Bladensburg, where Francis Scott Key served as a civilian aide to the American commander. The battle was one of the worst routs in American military history, even though the American militia outnumbered the attacking British. The defeat at Bladensburg opened the road to Washington D.C. which led to the burning of the capital. There is no lack of irony here: the home of the president, built by slave labor, was put to the torch by those formerly enslaved men now fighting for their freedom and the freedom of their families.
            What Francis Scott Key—a slave owner himself—was espousing in that third verse was the fervent wish that no escaped slave should ever depart with the British and find a life of freedom outside the United States. The “gloom of the grave” was to be their punishment for fighting against their masters—and, perhaps, for the mortification Key felt as a fervent anti-abolitionist, hightailing it down the road from Bladensburg, Black troops on his heels.

            At the end of the war, the United States government insisted upon a return of all American property held by the British—meaning Blacks who had escaped to fight those who enslaved them. The British refused and provided transport for all Colonial Marines to Canada, Bermuda, or Trinidad. British Captain James Ross, who led the troops at Bladensburg and on to Washington, wrote of the Colonial Marines: “Their conduct was marked by great spirit and vivacity, and perfect obedience.”
            The Colonial Marines fought and died for freedom—a freedom denied them under the banner Francis Scott Key wrote about so movingly. And that’s a story that ought to be told and taught, because it’s as much a part of the American story as the bombs bursting in air.

James R. Benn is the author of the Billy Boyle WWII mystery series. The fifteenth novel releases 9/1/20.

Yogi and Me

I am telling this tale by popular demand.  I use the term “popular” advisedly here.  The demand came from just one person, but that personage, I should say, was Jim Benn, our guest last week who is popular indeed—both as a writer of wonderful historical mysteries and as a warm and charming colleague.  So here is an account of the my one degree of separation from the man who was called the Perfect Yankee—the inimitable Yogi Berra.

It begins with my Uncle Joe—the youngest of my mother’s six brothers.  Here is a photo of us during a family picnic at the lake just as the U.S. was getting into the worldwide conflict that Jim Benn so vividly portrays in his books:

 

Summer 1942:
My great grandmother--the original Annamaria Alfieri,
cousin Frank, Aunt Bella, Uncle Joe, Uncle John (already
in uniform) with his fiancée.  Kneeling, my father, and out
front little me, on the move as usual.

Uncle Joe, a high school quarterback and a great dancer, volunteered as soon as he was old enough—in December of 1942.  He served in the First Marines with a mortar platoon in the Pacific on Peleliu and was commended for “courageous actions and unselfish devotion.”  When a comrade was peppered by Japanese bullets and seriously injured, with shots still flying, Uncle Joe brought the man to shelter, dressed his wounds, and carried him to safety.  I still have the newspaper clipping reporting his commendation, which was left among my grandmother’s souvenirs.

My mother Annamaria, Uncle Joe,
my grandmother nee Alfieri.

By 1959, Uncle Joe had graduated from college on the GI Bill.  Yogi Berra and Phil Rizzuto were about to open a bowling alley in nearby Clifton, NJ.  Here is the founding of Rizzuto-Berra Bowling Lanes in Yogi’s own words:

“What’s so bad about New Jersey? Having lived here almost 60 years, I think it’s pretty good. Maybe it’s gotten a bad rap from comedians, I’m not sure. I do know it’s been a good place for me and my family for a long time, or we’d live somewhere else.

Sure, there’s more traffic, taxes, development and malls everywhere. But we’re still close to New York and the Shore, so nothing is too far even if it seems like it. Truth is, you don’t go far to find a good restaurant or almost anything you want. The Giants, Jets, and Devils are nice and close.

In the early ’50s, when I was a young guy on the Yankees, some of the players started living in North Jersey year-round. I can’t remember any traffic on the George Washington Bridge then. My buddy Phil Rizzuto encouraged me to move here from St. Louis, where I was from. He said there’d be more opportunities if I lived East; all the players had to find work when the season ended.

So Carm and I lived for a few years in Bergen County, then moved to Montclair, where we’ve been ever since. All those years Phil lived in Hillside, and we did a lot together. We worked off-seasons in the American Shops (clothing store) in Newark, and later opened a nice bowling alley in Clifton—the Rizzuto-Berra Lanes.”

Here’s a link to the full text of Yogi’s reminiscences:

http://njmonthly.com/articles/lifestyle/people/not-far-from-everything-nearby.html

 Just as the bowling alley project was getting underway, Uncle Joe met Phil at the clothing store!!  (Let’s imagine how different were the lives of first-class sports stars in those days—they worked in a clothing store in the offseason.)

Phil offered my uncle a job running what would soon become his and Yogi’s new business.  In 1959, the 40-lane center opened to huge fanfare.  My extended family and I were there for the grand opening, giving me my first opportunity to shake the gnarled hand of the man who spent so much of his time catching fastballs.  In the ensuing few years, my older brother, my cousins, and I would go the bowling alley from time to time, and sometimes it was the ever-affable Yogi who served us our cokes at the bar.

Fast forward to the late 90’s when mutual friends of mine and Yogi and Carmen Berra invited me to the dedication of the Yogi Berra Library at Montclair University.  I took along Paul, my younger brother and fellow life-long Yankees fan, and his son Justin.

The photographic proof.

At the reception, Yogi graciously chatted with me, reminiscing about the old days at the bowling alley.

For me, he remains my once and future hero.  I have beside me as I type Jim Benn’s latest—THE REST IS SILENCE—in which Yogi makes an appearance.  I can’t wait to meet up with him again on the page.

Annamaria - Monday    

Guest Author James R. Benn

It's always a delight, here on Murder is Everywhere, to receive guest author Jim Benn. Jim, now writing full-time after thirty-plus years in the library and technology businesses, is the author of the Billy Boyle series, published by by Soho Press.

DEATH'S DOOR is his latest, and a cracker-jack book it is too.
In it, Benn continues Billy's adventures as a World War Two grunt, dropping him down, this time, in Rome in 1944. The eighth opus, tentatively titled ANGRY SMITH, is the next one up.
But you going to have to wait until 2013 to read that one.

Jim is also the author of two excellent standalones, ON DESPERATE GROUND and SOUVENIR, available exclusively in ebook form.

He lives in Hadlyme, Connecticut, with his wife Deborah Mandel.

Leighton - Monday

GOLFING FOR CATS

In 1976 I was working as a public library director and enthralled with my new duties as acquisitions librarian, as well as chief custodian and handyman. Even though the town was small and the pay even smaller, it was heaven for a liberal studies major. I got to buy books, for crying out loud!

I recall reading a review about a book of short stories by Alan Coren, an editor at Punch magazine. He had determined that the most popular books of the day were about golf, cats, and Nazis. He also thought that authors should stop whining about lack of support from their publishers and help promote their books in new and creative ways. To that end, he titled his rather thin (160 pages) book Golfing For Cats. The bold red cover had nothing but a huge swastika on it.

I loved the concept and bought two copies for the library. Apparently few others shared my enthusiasm. Perhaps the fact that there was no golf, not a single cat or even a mention of Adolf created confusion for the book-buying public. Still, I always remembered this cheeky bit of attempted author marketing fondly, hoping one day I could also write a book about cat-loving Nazi golfers.

This year, with the upcoming publication of the seventh Billy Boyle novel (Death’s Door -- pictured above) I finally had my chance to score one out of three of Coren’s sure-fire cover strategies. This book is set within Nazi-occupied Rome, where Billy is sent disguised as a priest, to investigate the murder of an American monsignor within neutral Vatican territory. There is a scene set in Piazza Navona, near Bernini’s famous sculpture Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi or Fountain of the Four Rivers. Billy, in his priestly garb, is being observed by a German officer. I was entranced by the figure in the sculpture representing the Nile River, with a cloth pulled over his eyes symbolizing the unknown source of the river. It seemed the perfect image for a mystery, the journey toward the unknown.

The Nazis, of course, were fond of their swastika symbol, and it is an easy matter to find images of the red banners hung from buildings throughout occupied Europe. So the Piazza Navona scene with a red banner was proposed to the artist, who put together a quick sketch.

I liked it immediately. My small homage to Alan Coren actually worked as a cover image. The final (or so I thought) color image was striking.

Everyone was happy.

Except for the sales representatives, who said the swastika had to go. Apparently German and Austrian laws make the public showing of the Hakenkreuz (swastika) and other Nazi symbols illegal. The same is true of Poland, Lithuania, Hungary and Brazil, and the European Union as a whole has drafted similar laws, none of which have yet passed. Alan Coren never had to worry about online images showing up on Amazon in 1976. So the advance reading copies went to print with an empty red banner, which was fine, but we needed to put some kind of image there. Who would hang a plain red banner in Piazza Navona?

I proposed several ideas, including the fasces symbol of the Italian Fascist Party (the Italians don’t seem to care one way or the other about this sort of imagery), the ancient Roman symbol of imperial authority. Nope. Looked too much like a pencil. Then I found images of the symbol of the Italian Fascist Army, an eagle clutching the fasces in his claws. Not bad, I thought, and sent that off.

With the publication date not too far off, this was the artwork designed to fill in the banner:

This attempt looked more like the eagle from the Polish national coat of arms. Oops. Since Poland had not conquered Rome, I resent the image for the Italian Army Eagle.

Almost there. Except this eagle looked a little bit like a chicken, maybe a roaster with yummy drumsticks.

With a  bit of artistic tweeking, the roaster became an actual Fascist emblem, and the banner came alive.

The odd thing is that one of the characters in the book is Monsignor Hugh O'Flaherty, a real-life Irish priest who saved the lives of thousands by hiding escaped POWs, Jews and Italian anti-fascists within the Vatican and throughout Rome. He’s worth a Google search. Before the war, he had engaged in his hobby whenever he could. Can you guess what it was?

Yup.

And this last photo is one of the gentleman himself.