Wartime Christmas Memories by Eleri Grace

Each Christmas I enjoy re-reading a blog post that a man wrote in tribute to his mother, who had served as a Red Cross Girl in Europe from 1943-45. Unfortunately, it seems the original blog is now behind a pay site, which is very sad as I don't think I ever printed out a copy. 

Thankfully I've blogged about it before and can refer back to my previous reflections. In the man's memory, there was such a contrast between the small tabletop Christmas tree decorated with simple handmade decorations (paper chains and ornaments, popcorn strings and the like) and the larger "real" tree that his family decorated for their living room each year. It wasn't until many years later, when he read his mother's wartime journal, that he understood why she always wanted to put up that smaller tree each season. Her journal recounts how she and her fellow Red Cross Girls set up a similar tree in Belgium in December 1944. 

For those that might not recall, the Germans launched a deadly counter-offensive (later known as the Battle of the Bulge) in mid-December 1944, and several Clubmobiles and their crews were unexpectedly caught behind or very near enemy lines. Even the crews who had been serving far back from the front in western Belgium were forced to trek back into France for safety. It was Christmas Eve before all the women safely reached their units back in France.

Though they were thrilled to mark the holiday with simple decorations and whatever food and liquor they could scrounge from supplies, the women were also mourning the loss of one of their own. A Red Cross Girl, recuperating from a mild illness in a hospital, was killed during a bombing raid on the hospital, and word of her death reached the others shortly before Christmas. 

Putting up this small simple tree was one of the ways his mom coped with stressful memories of her wartime service. Many Red Cross Girls, like the servicemen who fought, returned home changed in no small measure and continued to be affected for years afterward. His mother also nestled photos of "her boys" in the branches of that small tabletop tree -- that bitterly cold and uncertain Christmas of 1944 lived powerfully in her memory for the rest of her life. 

My wish for 2025 is that we might all recall the selfless spirit of the Greatest Generation and be guided by the kindness, generosity of spirit, and optimism for a brighter future that motivated both the servicemen and servicewomen of that bygone era. Wishing all of you a festive holiday season, a Merry Christmas, and New Year filled with health, happiness, and love!

You can buy my books on Amazon and learn more about me and my writing on my website. 

The Stuff of Nightmares - A Blast from the Past

This post was first published on October 13, 2020. WW2 Romance Author Eleri Grace can be counted on to write thrilling romantic stories that immerse her readers in the realities of llfe during WW2.

By Eleri Grace

I too don’t write horror, suspense, paranormal or another genre that might have a classic “scary scene.” I write WWII historical novels – what’s scary about that?

            Well, more than might be readily apparent. As Judith noted, real life presents plenty of scary situations, and war certainly amplifies dangerous situations.

            One of the scariest scenes I’ve written tracks along with what is a fairly common nightmare for many people. How many times have you jerked awake, heart pounding, with the sense that you are free falling? Probably at least a few times in your life, I would wager.

            Fairly early in my drafting process for my debut novel, I realized that my hero Jack Nielsen was afraid of heights. A common fear, sure, but Jack is a pilot. How can a pilot cope with a fear of heights? It seems counter-intuitive, and I was initially intrigued with whether that was too outlandish. So I googled “pilots fear of heights,” and it turns out that research shows that acrophobia is markedly, dramatically higher in the pilot population than among non-pilots. Some studies indicate up to 90% of pilots have a fear of heights. So I asked my teenage son, an avid flight simulator who wants to be a pilot and spends quite a bit of time with like-minded young adults: “Yes,” he nodded. “Most of us are afraid of heights.” It turns out that, as my son indicated, most pilots feel very in control in the cockpit, thus keeping their natural acrophobia at bay.

            But in combat? No, in combat, a pilot faces far more threats than usual to his or her ability to feel – and be -- in control of the plane. And that was the stuff of nightmares – both for Jack and for ME.

           

I read so many non-fiction accounts of WW2 bailout scenes that I woke up with that free fall sensation far more in that one year than at any other time in my life. But I knew that Jack would have to jump eventually, and I forced myself to write it, knowing his experience might yank me from sleep for many months or years to come.

 

    “No more time! Out!” Hank pushed him closer to the hatch.

    Jack froze. His stomach lurched and dropped to his ankles, and his heart thrumped in his throat like a staccato fusillade of artillery. He swayed and gripped a handle on the hatch door with his good hand. “Go ahead,” he yelled.

    Hank shook his head violently. “You gotta jump!” he screamed in Jack’s ear.

    Waves of dizziness roiled him. Jack’s legs were as numb as his injured hand. No. No way. There was absolutely no way he could jump out into the clouds.

    Hank pried at Jack’s fingers, locked around the hatch handle in a death grip. “Damn it, let go!” He pulled hard on Jack’s waist, and they stumbled back to the narrow catwalk of the bomb bay.

    Before Jack could clamp his hand around the handle again, Hank put the chute rip cord into Jack’s uninjured hand and closed his fingers around it. Then he shoved hard with both hands in the middle of Jack’s back.

    Jack was out, free-falling in the icy slipstream, tumbling end over end. Out of control, exactly as he had always dreaded in his imagination.

    The ground rushed toward him. Slow down, slow down, slow down!

    The ring. The ripcord D-ring. Hank had put it in his hand. Jack jerked his hand downward.

    The parachute burst out of the chest pack and opened above him with a resounding crack. His body jerked upward.

    A loud, sustained bang sounded behind him. Jack turned his head, horrified to see his trusty, much-loved ship exploding in mid-air, engulfed in fiery flames.

 

Being the hero, Jack does land safely. But does he connect up with Allied troops or the German forces who imprison him in a wretched POW camp? Does he encounter German civilians who might decide to exact vigilante justice against him as another terror flieger?

You can read more of his experiences and his love story with Red Cross Girl Vivian in my debut novel, Courage to be Counted.

As the bombs fall on Europe, their love affair must survive a deadly war…

Vivian Lambert wants to do her part. When she wins a coveted overseas post with the Red Cross, she focuses on her war service. Falling hard for a sexy pilot wasn't part of her plan.

Jack Nielsen has a mission. Motivated by patriotic duty and desire to avenge the death of his best friend, Jack commands a ten-man B-17 crew. Keeping himself and his men alive in the fire-filled skies over Europe will require Jack's full focus. Romancing a headstrong Red Cross Girl is a distraction he knows he shouldn't indulge.

While Vivian's work takes her across France and into the heart of Nazi Germany, mounting casualties drive Jack to confront his dwindling odds of survival. As Allied forces converge on all fronts, can Vivian and Jack's relationship withstand an excruciating battle between love and duty?

Courage to be Counted is the first book in the Clubmobile Girls series of sizzling hot historical romances. If you like brave military heroes, trailblazing heroines, and romance under fire, then you'll love Eleri Grace's page-turning tale.

 

 

Learn more about me and my writing on my website, and you can also find me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Instagram. 

Lions and Tigers and Bears! Oh My! by Eleri Grace

 WWII novels aren't typically scary in the traditional sense -- not in the same way that a paranormal or suspense novel might keep you up at night. 

Yet historical novels can include scenes driven by psychological terror or danger, and I like to believe my novels include plenty of page-turning scenes that leave the reader in suspense. I've written here about the fear of heights common to so many pilots and how that sense of control that most pilots feel in the cockpit evaporated in the face of WWII combat flying, especially with the ever-present odds of being forced to bail-out of a damaged plane. 

My Red Cross Girl heroines likewise faced dangers and fears during their service. In my debut novel, Courage to be Counted, my heroine Vivian was forced to flee in the dead of night when German forces overran the previously-peaceful R&R town of Clervaux, Luxembourg in the opening day of the Battle of the Bulge. She and her fellow Clubmobilers bedded down in the French countryside in the same fields as the advancing American troops, with artillery shells booming overhead. Vivian also experienced a close call with death when a German fighter bombed a US Army work-crew she was serving, forcing her to dive for cover under a nearby Jeep. 

In my 2nd Clubmobile novel, my heroine Hadley's journalistic curiosity lands her in one sticky situation after another. Wanting to write stories of substance for her newspaper back home, she accepted a pilot's offer to go up in a small plane for a quick reconnaissance trip, yet ended up in a combat scenario. Chasing a scoop, Hadley ignored protocol for having a male escort for any drives beyond their immediate work territory in New Guinea and took a female war correspondent into a remote jungle region where they were nearly killed in a crash. 

Though it has no title or cover yet, I decided to share a brief scene of danger and fear experienced by my latest heroine Maggie in my work-in-progress (ever-hopeful that this 3rd Clubmobile Girls novel will be published early next year). Maggie is serving with the Red Cross in eastern India, near the Burma border. She and her fellow Clubmobile worker Jill had done a Clubmobile run to serve doughnuts, coffee, and cheer to the work crews building the Ledo Road, which would later provide the much-needed land route from India to China. Though they had a male Field Director escort in the Clubmobile runs on the Ledo Road and camped overnight with Army troops, the women shared a basha (small hut constructed of native bamboo and grasses) at the edge of camp. An unexpected visitor to their basha kept Maggie pinned to her cot in terror for hours one night. 

Source: Davidvraju via Wikimedia under CC BY-SA 4.0

Consciousness returned in gradual waves. Her body didn’t want to relinquish its hold on a deep, restful slumber, yet something in her brain continued trying to rouse her. 

Something warm and moist nudged the mosquito net flat against her face and moved the netting in a gentle caress over her nose, her cheek, her jawline. Like a lover nuzzling, hoping to reignite an earlier passionate interlude. 

It was the deep throaty rumble near her ear, similar to a cat purring — but deeper and with a hint of menace — that jerked her mind into hyper-alertness. Every muscle in her body tautened. 

Its warm breath near her own mouth carried a coppery tang — an unfamiliar smothering scent that spiked her already rushing adrenaline levels. Blood. Blood in its breath. Blood on its mind.

With soft chuffs, it raked the mosquito netting down her arm, then across her hand. As it nudged its nose against her waist, Maggie’s heart froze in her chest. 

Her escalating fear could prompt it to attack at any moment. An ice-cold shiver snaked down her spine at the thought of its sharp teeth and claws. The engineers and work crews working on the Ledo Road had reported several tiger attacks — men who had been mauled, grievously wounded, or even killed. 

Maggie fought through her suffocating panic and forced herself to center enough to consider options. 

What did she know about tigers? Was it a tiger? It was a big cat — she had grown ever more certain of that. The deep rhythmic sound it was making — akin to a saw scissoring through wood — put her in mind of a cat. It wasn’t a continuous purr like a house cat makes, but similar enough. There were bears here too, but she didn’t think a bear would make this sort of sound. 

 To Maggie’s ears, its investigatory noises reverberated through the basha. Could Jill hear it? She might be deep in sleep and blessedly unaware of their plight, or she too might be lying there, frozen into panicked silence. 

It might grow bored and disappear. As badly as Maggie wanted that outcome, it seemed unlikely. 

If one of them screamed for help, would that scare it off? Or would it pounce, snarling and ripping and sinking its long teeth into her tender flesh? It was the threat of the latter that kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her body completely rigid and still. Her every breath seemed to amplify and must be every bit as loud as the birds and other animals who continued their nighttime conversations, oblivious to the mortal danger in which Maggie and Jill found themselves.

Its soft fur brushed against her arm, what might be its tail swished in the air near her ear. The deep chuffing noise allowed her to follow its progress as it moved around her cot and now pressed against the netting on her other side. Maggie still didn’t dare open her eyes. Feigned sleep had worked so far. On the other hand, it surely must sense her wakeful state from her thudding heartbeat and accelerating pulse. 

It circled the cot twice more, insistently pressing its nose against her body from head to toe through the netting. It seemed to like the texture of the netting - Maggie had the sense that it was rubbing its face against it as cats so often rub their heads against furniture and objects. Grandpa said cats rubbed against things to mark them as their own. Was this one marking her as its next meal, or was it merely enjoying the texture of the soft, feathery netting? 

I hope you enjoyed the above teaser (and yes, Maggie is the heroine, so she does survive her night of terror, though the experience left its mark). 

In case you missed my earlier novels, you can find my Clubmobile Girls novels on Amazon. You can learn more about me and my writing on my website and by following me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest.  

Hidden Gems, by Eleri Grace

Our prompt this month asks us to consider the value in our older and/or unpublished writing. Are there hidden gems lurking in your hard drive (or even perhaps housed on diskettes!) or scribbles on old notepads? With published writing under your belt, could you rework what you earlier discarded or filed away as worthless? 

For me, the answer probably is no, but mostly because my earlier writing efforts don't align with my current genre and branding as a WWII historical author. Actually, that's not entirely accurate -- probably somewhere I have some notes and preliminary thoughts for a time travel YA novel that used Churchill's Cabinet War Rooms as a portal to the past. I think I got that idea on one of my visits to the Cabinet War Rooms, noting not only how they've been preserved so precisely as they were in 1945 but also how many hidden nooks and crannies and off-limits rooms and hallways the site has. It seems the absolute perfect place for a portal leading present-day time travelers back to wartime London! 

Churchill Cabinet War Rooms, personal photo of author (2016)

Churchill Cabinet War Rooms, personal photo of author (2016)

I got my start in creative writing with Harry Potter fan fiction. Before trying my hand at fan fiction, I had always considered myself more of a non-fiction and academic writer. I had no sense that I would ever be able to write dialogue or plot out a story or novel. While writing a long-form fan fiction piece, my entire perception changed, as I realized I had far more creativity than I'd ever imagined possible. Not only did I have creativity, but I enjoyed expressing myself in that outlet. Then I had my first child, and writing took a back seat for the next ten years. 

Some of our favorites from Mother-Daughter Book Club!

As my children grew older, I once again explored the possibility of writing fiction. At the time, I was still reading with my children regularly. I coached my daughter's competitive book-reading team in elementary school, and then we formed a mother-daughter book club that was active throughout her middle and high school years. Because so much of what we were reading in those years was YA, I initially launched my writing efforts thinking I might write middle-grade or YA novels. I joined SCBWI, attended their local conferences, and began occasionally meeting with a local friend to write for a few hours in the mornings at a coffee shop. I was writing, but I still didn't have the sense that I had found my way quite yet. 

I don't recall the impetus precisely, but at some point around 2013-2014, I got connected up with RWA and decided to give adult fiction a try. I wrote a contemporary romance and pitched it at RWA's annual conference. It got some nibbles, but I couldn't sell it to an agent or publisher. In looking at the books stacked on my nightstand one evening, it suddenly hit me that I didn't actually frequently read all that many contemporary romance novels. My TBR pile consisted of many historical fiction novels, mostly set during WWII. That got the wheels turning, and I began to explore what women did to support the war effort beyond the home front defense work. I worked out some of the roles that took women overseas, closer to the action and closer to the potential heroes. I knew even in those early days that I wasn't too interested in writing a romance where the action is centered on the home front or where the couple are separated for long stretches of time. I wanted my heroine to be in the thick of it, and I quickly become intrigued by the Red Cross Girls who served overseas all over the globe. Once I learned how much they interacted with the servicemen and how closely they operated to the front lines, the action, the danger, I was hooked. 

So while I can't envision recycling any of my earlier efforts into my current writing, it played a part in proving to me that I was creative, that I enjoyed writing fiction, and that I was capable of plotting and writing a full novel. 

You can buy my books on Amazon, learn more about me and my writing on my website, and follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest. 

Google your Way to Genuineness by Eleri Grace

Setting plays an important role in my novels, but I mostly make do with experiencing the setting from afar. Much as I would love to travel and do first-hand research, some of my settings are simply too far-flung or currently dangerous for that to be a viable option! For those novels, Google has become my best friend, and I'm grateful to have so many resources at my fingertips. It's hard for me to imagine how I might have created the level of detail that I do in my novels without the internet and all its fabulous resources. 

Restored control tower and base of 100th Bomber Group, Thorpe Abbotts, England (2016)

For my first novel, set primarily on a US bomber base in southeastern England, it was easy to draw on my experiences from having lived in that very area while studying abroad in 1989 and from a more recent research trip led by the National WWII Museum. That tour allowed me the opportunity to not only visit two of the restored air bases but also to chat with some of the locals who were children during the war and have vivid memories of those years with all the American airmen who served there. While we did not visit the base that I had already chosen as the focal setting for Courage to be Counted, it was still incredibly helpful to see these bases and imagine how similar they were to what my characters experienced at Chelveston. 

Historical re-enactors: 95th Bomber Group, Horham, England (2016)

St Andrews Church, Quidenham, England, stained glass window in honor of USAAF 96th Bomber Group

Red Cross Girls doing laundry in a river in New Guinea, circa 1943

My second novel Carry a Crusading Spirit followed my heroine from Australia (that would have been a great trip if I could have managed it!) to New Guinea and then to Tinian Island in the Northern Marianas. Time and finances didn't allow me to visit these places in person (and New Guinea is not particulary safe either), but I made great use of online sources. Google Earth is an extraordinary resource for authors looking to get a better feel for the topography, and I used it often for my hero's New Guinea flight scenes. In addition to photos, maps, and Google Earth, I have had great luck with videos -- not only current ones that show a general idea of the lay of the land, but many historical videos are available online. 

My latest novel in progress is set in India and Burma (now Myanmar). Obviously Myanmar is not a safe destination at the moment. I found quite a few travel blogs -- most of which relate to trips taken prior to the last couple of years -- with great photos and details. One travel blogger drove the old Ledo Road, and he included some incredible photos that show how arduous the construction must have been. Speaking of video research, just this past weekend, I found myself wondering if it was possible to kill a tiger with a bow and arrow, and lo and behold if I don't find a video (circa 1963 no less) that literally shows a skilled archer bringing down a tiger in India. 

Red Cross Girl in India, circa 1944

So even though I don't have personal photos in my collection from these Asian locales, I've been intrepid enough to locate some pretty amazing sources that have added depth and variety in bringing the settings of my novels to life. 

You can buy my books on Amazon, learn more about me and my writing on my website, and follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest. 

You Should See Us Now - by Eleri Grace

This month's theme of strong women in literature and history is TAILOR-MADE for me and my novels! Don't misunderstand - I know so many authors are strong women and write kick-ass heroines set in all periods of history. 

But my Red Cross Girl heroines bucked tradition and normative gender roles for the era *before* they then went overseas and became larger-than-life heroines. I believed their accomplishments and bravery had gone unnoticed far too long and resolved to do my best to write novels that did justice to their amazing stories. 

The American Red Cross hired only 1 in 6 applicants for the overseas staff positions. They wanted women who had a college degree and some professional work experience. They also evaluated applicants for a host of other character and personal attributes -- ARC wanted women who were adaptable self-starters, who were resilient and able to handle long days of demanding work paired with social expectations, who could handle themselves in a male-dominated environment, and who were charming, cheerful, and classy. The typical Red Cross Girl was independent, spirited, and driven. She was also a woman who had already pushed up and around walls and boundaries her entire life and was eager to "do her bit" for the war effort in unconventional and exciting ways. 

Once they arrived overseas, they challenged assumptions and expanded their role beyond what the ARC or the military might have imagined. The Red Cross Girls served closer to the front lines overall than even the combat nurses. A history of the ARC WWII service published in 1945 notes: 

"They had a ringside seat at one of the greatest dramas of all time, moving with more freedom than many soldiers. Even war correspondents could not drive in and out of the battle lines as the Red Cross Girls did every day. In and out of the rain and mud they moved with the headlines, from hedgerow to plain, from orchard to orchard, and from bomb craters, shell holes, and crumbled towns. To the boom of artillery and the whistle of shells, they took their freshly made doughnuts and steaming coffee right to the GIs on highways, in hospitals, rest areas, gun sites, and even to the edge of foxholes." 

They thumbed their nose at danger and chafed at restrictions. The ARC definitely had not fully considered that their hiring profile was not the sort of woman who would accept anything less than independence and control over her own work and destiny. Just as any WWII veteran might tell you that his war service years were the most life-altering and memorable over his life, so too were the Red Cross Girls irrevocably changed by their war-time experiences. Many of these women left behind engaging, inspiring memoirs, and I have drawn on their experiences for my novels. One of my favorites was penned by an unknown Red Cross Girl in the form of a letter to one of her ARC instructors back in Washington. She wrote of her experiences in Normandy and Belgium in the winter of 1944 and noted that searing experiences near the battle lines had left their mark -- we're all "terribly calloused and never quite callous enough." 

"We went through Normandy like the Army went through -- fast and in the field. We spent Christmas morning diving into foxholes and serving doughnuts and coffee between alerts. . . . It's a great racket! Crawling out of the sack at seven and loading the trucks and taking off early to serve in the ruined, rubble-strewn, blasted towns and out among the snowbound gun emplacements. You wheel home, unload, race to chow, dress up and go out again. You smile and talk all day, give with the fast patter and jive around to canned music. Dance in the snow and mush and on ice, dance with the rain or sleet falling, dance in ruined old stables or in cellars or mess kitchens or on the Clubmobile among the coffee urns, doughnuts and people, or sometimes in a big hall with a good GI band. Red Cross hasn't done badly at all in picking personnel. Working here is being what you've been all your life, but disciplined and worn down smooth, so that you smile when you're dying."

She goes on to tell her former instructor that she recalls fondly how she and her classmates enjoyed their training in DC: "Strictly garrison we were. You should see us now."

Reading their memoirs and letters, looking at the photos from their wartime service, I am forever in awe of these amazing, trail-blazing women who served literally all over the globe with such distinction and courage. When I'm writing my novels, I always remind myself that they, like the men in uniform, didn't have a crystal ball. When they signed up, they didn't know how long they would be gone, where they would be sent, or whether they would return at all. Strong women all -- they are my heroines. 

You can read more about my Clubmobile Girls series on my website, on my Amazon page, and in my social media accounts on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Instagram. 

I Could Write a Book by Eleri Grace

 

What's new for you in 2022? 

Well, as my title says, hopefully I'll write a(nother) book! 

The tune from Rodgers and Hammerstein's 1940 hit "Pal Joey" is a love song of course, but a few lines from the lyrics speak to my mindset:

But my busy mind is burning to use what learning I've got
I won't waste any time
I'll strike while the iron is hot

Those are my hopes for 2022: not wasting time and striking while the iron is hot so to speak. 

Maybe I would have developed writer's block anyway, who knows, but I can conveniently blame Covid-19 and its destructive siblings Alpha, Delta, and Omicron for my lack of output and motivation over much of 2020 and 2021. 

I'm once again using the Cultivate What Matters goal-setting system. Even though I wasn't filling out all the reflection work each month or quarter as the system urges one to do, I bought it again this year because my goals I had set were always in my mind, even if I wasn't always faithful about recording it all. My goals for 2022 are more similar to 2021 than not. This could be read as an indication that I failed 2021, that I didn't accomplish all that much. But the truth is that some of my goals don't lend themselves to being checked off or completed in full over the course of a single year. 

The one writing goal that could have been completed but wasn't is the publication of my third full Clubmobile Girls novel. My intention is to finish and publish it this year, come what may. But I'm celebrating that I learned how to write a novelette and published it in 2021 (and I now have the barebones start on 3 other novelettes to complete a quartet of stories). I've also got new branding in the form of new cover-art that will be released this year. I'm waiting until I can reveal the cover for Book 3 before then announcing the new cover-art for my first 2 novels -- but truthfully I'm so excited by the new look of my covers that I may not wait much longer. My hope is that these new covers will speak to a wider network of readers as they are more in keeping with the look and feel of other WWII fiction released in the last couple of years. Watch my social media and blog for my new cover-art reveals in the coming months! 

My goals for 2022 are varied, as Cultivate What Matters encourages people to evaluate many facets of their personal, working, and leisure lives. Whatever your goals are for 2022, I hope you find joy, peace, fulfillment, and pride in all that you do!

You can find my Clubmobile Girls series on Amazon. Learn more about me on my website, or on my social media accounts through Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest. 

A Novel Notion: the Novelette by Eleri Grace

 One of our themes this month is "what's new in publishing." While it may not be new to publishing -- and if our dear friend Merriam-Webster is to be trusted, it's not a new concept generally -- the novelette is new to me. 

Since the pandemic has been a strain on my creativity, my editor suggested I pursue writing a short. "A short story?" I asked. "No, no. A short," she replied. "A novella?" I queried. She patiently explained the concept of a story that is longer than a typical short story, yet shorter than a traditional novella. She called it a "coffee cup read." It wasn't until I was musing about writing about this overall topic this month that my google searches revealed that I could be calling my latest release a novelette, which sounds so sweet and dainty. A novelette, I've learned, is often light and romantic or sentimental. And indeed the novelette I released in late October for the holiday season is both romantic and sentimental. It is meant to hearken back to a simpler time and provide readers with a cozy, nostalgic holiday story. 

I wasn't sure a shorter format narrative arc -- whether short story, novelette or novella -- would suit my style at all, as I tend to write long (read: verbose and prone to using complex sentence structures). To my happy surprise, it did. As it's set in Iceland in December 1944, it's also perhaps appropriate that I wrote the first draft during Texas's Winter Storm Uri (I thankfully never lost power, but did lose water for several days). They aren't yet written, but the other three novelettes in this series are generally plotted, and I'm ready to dive in with the next one. This will be my Arctic quartet in time -- each of the four Macalester sisters serves as a Red Cross Girl in a different Arctic location, with the story centered around a different holiday. In this first novelette, my heroine Elise is serving in Iceland at Christmas time in 1944. 

Elise Macalester is convinced her shy, girl-next-door personality prevents her from being the kind of Red Cross Girl that helps soldiers forget war and guarantees she’ll never be open enough to fall in love. In a moment of uncharacteristic boldness to reunite brothers torn apart by combat, she reconnects with a handsome stranger with whom she shared one enchanting dance months earlier. But self-doubt and unspeakable tragedy prove formidable enemies to the heart.

Tommy Towson believes his service as an Army radar technician at an Icelandic weather station is less noble than that of men serving in combat -- men like his beloved older brother, Mike. Their bittersweet reunion, along with a second-chance encounter that challenges him to hope, proves a bigger test of Tommy’s courage than anything on the battlefield.

The first in a planned quartet of Clubmobile Girls Shorts set in the Arctic, At His Side for Christmas transports the reader to an often-overlooked wartime locale, in an era that continues to exert a hold on our hearts during the holidays. Fans of “A Christmas Story,” “It’s a Wonderful Life,” “Miracle on 34th Street” and old television favorites such as “The Waltons” will enjoy this nostalgic and festive step back in time.

You can find At His Side for Christmas, and my other Clubmobile Girls novels, on Amazon. You can learn more about me and my writing on my website or by following me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest. 

Don't Fence Me In by Eleri Grace

Cole Porter's "Don't Fence Me In" is seemingly about physical freedom in a wide-open landscape, and the recording by Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters in late 1944 was not inspiration to the women who answered the call to duty after Pearl Harbor. But the phrase "Don't Fence Me In" is in some ways a very accurate reflection of the attitude many of the Red Cross Girls held. They were trailblazers, independent thinkers, and pushed up against and beyond barriers on many levels in their lives -- both before, during, and after the war. Freedom undergirded it all. 

Camouflaging the Clubmobile - Normandy 1944

All the women the Red Cross selected through a rigorous interview process for overseas service were resilient and fiercely independent self-starters. Many were single and had been working in a professional capacity for several years (which was one of the Red Cross requirements). Most craved even more freedom and autonomy -- perhaps escaping family members who were pressuring them to settle down into domesticity or seeking the lure of adventure and duty in the thick of the action. And as the war wore on and the Red Cross Girls increasingly recognized their own worth, many dreaded returning home, fearing that they would face pressure to give up their careers or that the opportunities in post-war America would go mostly to the returning male soldiers. One Red Cross Girl wrote her boyfriend that he should understand that she could no longer see herself ever being happy as a housewife and that he should be prepared to carry some of the domestic load because she intended to continue her career. 

Florence, Italy 1944

They experienced unprecedented responsibility and freedom during the war, and many were concerned about adjusting to post-war realities. Based on the numerous memoirs and oral history interviews I used in my research, many of them refused to scale back their aspirations or relinquish the additional freedom they experienced during the war years. Many of these women went on to resume their careers or pursue a new profession, learning how to balance their professional and home lives. I like to think that the daughters of these trailblazing WWII heroines led the charge for women's rights in the 1960s. But the Red Cross Girls (and many other women in the era) played a large role in pushing boundaries and resetting expectations. 

I have a new release coming out this month -- a Clubmobile Girls "short" for your holiday reading. This is the first of a planned anthology of stories set in the Arctic locales of Iceland, Greenland, Alaskan Territory, and the Aleutian Islands. In At His Side for Christmas, Elise Macalester, serving as a Red Cross Girl in Iceland, puts aside her shyness to help reconnect two brothers torn apart by combat. Can she overcome self-doubt and tragic circumstances to find her way to love and happiness? 

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You can find my Clubmobile Girls series on Amazon. At His Side for Christmas is available for pre-order now! 

LOVE AND LAUGHTER . . . AND PEACE EVER AFTER by Eleri Grace

 

Slit Trench, Northern Burma, 1944

The heroines of my novels, the Red Cross Girls, always held out hope for an end to the war and the elusive dream from the Vera Lynn song -- "there'll be love and laughter . . .  and peace ever after." Through their overseas service, they had seen so much death and pain and loss that they fervently wanted the war to end. The Red Cross Girls were often stationed as close to the front lines as the combat nurses, and even the "safe" posts were often on air bases where the women witnessed casualties virtually every day. It was not uncommon for a woman to dance with a pilot or crewman one night and learn the next day that he had been killed on a mission or in an accident the following morning. Death -- and the harsh realities of war --- hovered over every aspect of their service. It was emotionally draining and stressful work, thus prompting the Red Cross to transfer the women frequently (with the often futile hope that short duration assignments would minimize their emotional attachments). 

Emily Harper Rea, ARC, April 1945

The women worried about their own loved ones (husbands, sweethearts, and brothers), and they cared deeply for the men they served through the Red Cross recreation clubs and Clubmobiles -- the "boys" to use their parlance of the time. But they too were not immune from the dangers and vagaries of war -- some 53 ARC personnel (mostly women) lost their lives in WW2 service. These deaths most often occurred as a result of plane crashes (these independent and spirited women often flouted the ARC's prohibition against the common practice of "hitching a ride" with a friendly pilot), but at least one woman died as a direct result of enemy action. 

France, Memorial Day 1945

All dreamed of peace and an end to the war -- long-awaited reunions with a husband or sweetheart or marriage to a wartime suitor or just a return home to American food, family, and traditions. But at the same time, the Red Cross Girls recognized that they too were as changed by their wartime service as the soldiers. An unnamed Red Cross Girl correspondent wrote back home: "None of us [will ever be quite the same again] -- GI or Red Cross." She noted in the same letter that she and her friends were "terribly calloused and never calloused enough," that they "were disciplined and worn down smooth, so that you smile when you're dying." They worried about how they would readjust to civilian life and how they would cope with the trauma they had seen and experienced during the war years. The concept of PTSD was decades away, and while folks back home might be reasonably sympathetic to a man returning home with a bit of "combat fatigue," they likely couldn't grasp the emotional scars and residual stress the Red Cross Girls brought home.

Camouflaging Clubmobile, Normandy 1944

These intrepid and daring women were also uncertain if a slower-paced existence in peace time America would suit them -- they had spent years being "on" all the time time, and most importantly, having far more freedom and discretion than they could expect when they returned home. Indeed, the women wondered how they would cope with returning home to an America where they were expected to now settle down into domesticity. The unnamed correspondent had noted in her letter that while most of the soldiers thought them brave, others believed that the Red Cross Girls belonged "back home where a woman's place used to be . . . about 200 years ago." I find that quote so very intriguing -- this woman, writing in 1944, believed that the idealized American version of housewife and stay-at-home mom was already outdated. Though it would be difficult to prove, I have a strong sense that the daughters of the Red Cross Girls, nurses and WACs, as well as all the women who undertook crucial wartime work at home, led the charge for the equality movement and second wave of feminism in the 1960s. 

Lunch break, field duty, Normandy 1944

Their post-war lives varied, but all the Red Cross Girls who left memoirs, gave oral history interviews, or otherwise reflected on their service during the war sounded a similar note: the war years were the most significant time in their entire lives. One man recounted in a recent blog that his mother made it a tradition throughout his childhood that they would put up a small tabletop Christmas tree decorated with simple handmade decorations. He recalled too that she nestled photographs from the war amidst the branches of this small tree. At the time, he didn't understand why she bothered with this simple tree when they had a larger and more lavishly decorated tree in the living room. It was many years later before his father explained that this was his mother's tribute to her "boys," the men she had known through her years as a Red Cross Girl. The little tabletop tree with simple decorations was exactly like the one she and her fellow Clubmobile crew mates put up in a small makeshift recreation club in Belgium during the cold winter of 1944 at the height of the Battle of the Bulge. I feel certain there were probably other little tabletop trees and other ways the women honored the memory of their meaningful service. 

White banner is a German surrender flag - Patton's Third Army had cleared this town days earlier and the attached Clubmobile crews moved into this hotel

Time and again, just as male WW2 veterans so often do, the women who served overseas identified those years as the ones that left the deepest mark and changed them the most profoundly. The women endured stress, anxiety, trauma, and grief -- but they also experienced adventure, independence, freedom, friendship, camaraderie, and yes, romance and love. Peace allowed them to return home, but I suspect finding true "peace ever after" was a challenge for many of these women.