Revisiting World War I with Aussie Author, Margaret Tanner

Hello everyone, Margaret Tanner here. It is lovely to be invited back here by Judith and Sarah to celebrate RTG’s 20^th Century Historical Romance.

Some of the momentous events in our history occurred in the 20^th century including the 1^st and 2^nd World Wars. As I have novels set during WW1 or the Great War as it was known, I thought I would tell you something about my research and family connection to this dreadful conflict.

On the 4^th August 1914, England declared war on Germany and within a couple of days, young men from all over the British Empire, including Australia, Canada and New Zealand, rushed to enlist.

Australia was a small country in 1914, with a population of less than 5 million, yet we sent over 300,000 men to the front, Gallipoli, Egypt, France and Belgium.  Around 8,000 Australians soldiers were killed on Gallipoli in Turkey. More than 60,000 soldiers lie in the beautiful cemeteries in France and Belgium, not to mention the tens of thousands who came home wounded and traumatised. Many small country towns became ghost towns after the war, because all the young men had been killed.

My husband, son and I visited the Australian battlefields in France and also in Belgium, a truly poignant experience. My husband and I also visited Gallipoli, in Turkey, a place I have always wanted to see, and I wasn’t disappointed. At the Lone Pine memorial we found the name of one of my Dad’s relatives who has no known grave. 

It is really quite a sad story. This young man came out to Australia from Scotland with his two older brothers in about 1910. When the war broke out, he wanted to enlist but was under age. His older brother refused to give his consent, so he journeyed to Sydney and his other brother signed the consent papers for him. A few months later he was killed at Lone Pine. It tore the family apart, the older brother blaming the other brother for signing the consent papers which turned out to be a death warrant.

We also visited the battlefields and cemeteries on the Western front with our son. Using war time, both English and German, trench maps, and the information we gave him, our guide was able to point to within a hundred yards or so, to where my grandfather’s cousin was wounded. He enlisted in May 1916. He was shot through the knee near the village of Hermes in France, on the 9th April 1917. Chills ran down my spine, I felt as if a hand was gripping me from the grave. After being wounded he was picked up by a field ambulance unit, taken to a Casualty Clearing station, and then put on an ambulance train and finally he was admitted to a large military hospital in Rouen. He died on the 12^th April.

We made our own way up to Rouen and found his grave. He left behind a wife and two small children.  And here is a really sad thing, in about 1920, his little girl was run over by a motor car and killed. I mean, how could that woman bear so much? Husband killed in the war, her daughter dying a few years later, so all she had left was her son?

We visited large cemeteries where hundreds of white headstones stood amongst green lawns with pretty flowers nodding their heads between the graves. It was so poignant one could have cried a million tears and it still wouldn’t have been enough.

One of the most memorable monument wasn’t very big.  It was at Fromelles, a bronze statue of an Aussie soldier carrying his wounded mate. The battle for Fromelles was fought on the 19^th and 20^th July 1916, Australia had 5,500 casualties the English 1,500.  For over 90 years no-one knew the fate of nearly 300 of these soldiers, but there had been rumors for many years, of mass graves in the area, and it was only after a tenacious campaign waged for years by an Australian school teacher that the authorities finally acted, and four mass graves were discovered about three years after our visit. 250 soldiers have now been laid to rest in separate graves in a new Commonwealth war cemetery.  Of the 250 bodies over half have so far been identified by name using DNA volunteered by relatives.

AMERICAN DOUGHBOYS AND AUSSIE DIGGERS

Under the command of Australian General, Sir John Monash, the Australians and Americans, (diggers and doughboys) fought side by side in France in the Battle of Hamel on 4^th July 1918. In honour of the doughboys he was commanding, General Sir John Monash had chosen America’s Independence Day, as the date of the offensive.

Also, for the first time on a battlefield, tanks were used to bring up supplies behind the advancing troops. The battle was a spectacular success, and laid the foundation for future victories and the end of hostilities on the Western Front.

In the Belgium city of Ypres is a soaring stone archway at an entrance to the town known as the Menin Gate. The Menin Gate Memorial to the Missing has etched into its walls the names of 50,000 thousand English and Commonwealth soldiers who served in the region but have no known graves. Even after all these years, they still play the last post every evening as a mark of respect for the fallen.

We visited Tyne Cot cemetery in Flanders/Belgium. It is the largest Commonwealth War cemetery in the world. 8,369 of the almost 12,00 soldiers buried there are unknown.  Most of these unknown solders have white headstones with the words “A Soldier of the Great War Lies here.  Known only to God.” Sometimes the nationality of the soldier might be known, so the words would say An Australian/Canadian Soldier of the Great War lies here. There is also a memorial with the names of 34,957 missing soldiers who fell at Passchendale. Their bodies were never found.

At 11a.m. on the 11^th November, 1918, an Armistice was signed and the guns fell silent. The Great War had ended, but the repercussions would be felt for years to come.

Hereunder are three of my books which are set against a background of WW1.

DARING MASQUERADE

When Harriet Martin masquerades as a boy to help her shell-shocked brother in 1916, falling in love with her boss wasn’t part of the plan.

http://amzn.com/B071R7R42J

ALLISON’S WAR

In 1916, on the French battlefields, a dying soldier’s confession has the power to ruin the woman he loves.

http://amzn.com/B071NTMVGD

LAUREN’S DILEMMA

Three men stole Lauren’s love, only one will keep it.

https://amzn.com/B0778MPL8B

Margaret writes Historical Western Romance and Historical Romance with a few Contemporary Romances thrown into the mix.

Margaret’s Website:  http://www.margarettanner.com/

Margaret Tanner Amazon Author Page   http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003T5216E

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/margaret.tanner.399

THE TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS OF A HOARDER - MARGARET TANNER

DE-CLUTTERING, A NECESSARY EVIL?

 I am a clutter collector from way back. I figure why throw anything out; you never know when you might need it. I inherited the hoarder gene.

“Waste not, want not” was my mother’s motto and she lived by it the whole of her life. Maybe it was because she lived through the great depression of the 1930’s and World War 2, that she would use and re-use, save and squirrel away stuff. Our house was never untidy, because most of the hoarded items were well out of sight. 

I should have learned my lesson after my dear mother died about 20 years ago and my sister and I had to clear out her house. To say it was a nightmare was an understatement. It took weeks. My mother had kept receipts from the 1940’s, even her World War 2 ration book. And speaking of books, she had hundreds of them. Then there were the ornaments, pretty little knick-knacks that reposed on every shelf or level surface in the house. Boxes of china. Well, you get the idea.

Now you would think that after all this trauma and angst, I would have dashed home and gone through my own cupboards.  I didn’t, but I did take a lot of my mother’s stuff with me.  Well, how could I let it go?  All those little treasures.

My mother-in-law passed away, same story, I kept a lot of her things too. I was a hoarder.  It came as naturally as breathing or eating.

Well friends, retribution did come. The youngest of our sons finally left home, so hubby and I decided it was time to downsize. We bought a smaller house, and put our larger house on the market. “We’ve got a lot of stuff here, we’ll have to get rid of it,” hubby says.

Over my dead body. “No, we won’t do anything rash,” I said, “there’s plenty of time to work out what we want to keep.”

A week before the auction of our house, my husband had to have heart by-pass surgery, so I had to go on with the sale alone. After the auction and hubby’s successful operation, I had to start packing, because when he came home he couldn’t do anything for eight weeks. I really hit the panic button because we had a short settlement. Forty days to clear out all our stuff, that of my mother and mother-in-law (things I had kept, and shouldn’t have). Well, it was a nightmare. I did most of it on my own.  I don’t know how many trips I made to donate all these “treasures” to the second hand thrift shop (we call them Op shops here in Australia.  They are run by charities to raise money to help the less fortunate).  And I did help the less fortunate - big time.  The Op shop manager must have thought I was Mother Teresa re-incarnated.

It was terrible. I cried because I had to give away my ‘treasures, mum’s treasures and my mother in-law’s treasures’. Worse still, was the time it took to pack them and deliver them to the Op shop. 

With the clock ticking, I had to be ruthless – and I was.

If you are even contemplating moving house, start to get rid of your surplus stuff early.  In fact, don’t collect it in the first place.  A lady once told me that if she didn’t wear a dress for a year, she was probably never going to wear it again, and she got rid of it. Smart lady. Wish I had such courage.  I still cling to my favourite dresses, hey I might lose weight and they will fit me again???

The moral of this story is -  don’t hoard. De-clutter as much as possible, because one day you will have to sort it out, or your children will have to sort it out.  

The same goes for your writing.  Be ruthless. If the manuscript you have expended blood, sweat and tears over isn’t working, discard it.  Temporarily cast it into your bottom drawer is what I mean. Don’t destroy it, because you might be able to resurrect it at a later date.  Start on something fresh and new. Once you get your writing tastebuds tingling again with a new premise, a feisty heroine and a spunky hero, the words will start flowing until they become a torrent.

Never give up. It is a steep climb to the top of the publishing mountain, but oh what a view once you get there.

http://www.margarettanner.com/

Margaret writes spicy historical romance set in Australia.

 FIERY POSSESSION

American wild west versus Australian frontier.
Explosive results and tragedy follow Jo Saunders and Luke Campton when they cross the fine line dividing love and hate.

http://www.amazon.com/Fiery-Possession-ebook/dp/B00C2JOK6M/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1364548536&sr=1-1&keywords=fiery+possession

FEEL THE PASSION

PUBLISHING PASSION - Margaret Tanner

Are you passionate about getting published? If you are reading this blog you are obviously passionate about writing.  The icing on the cake, the thing to really strive for is publication. It isn’t an easy road. It can be fraught with heartache and disappointment. You need the passion to soldier on no matter what. You have to have a hide like an elephant. Look adversity (by that I mean rejection) in the face and spit in its eye if necessary (figuratively speaking of course). You have to be prepared to accept rejection, or the glimmer of hope with a “nice” rejection letter. If you are passionate about your stories and never give up, one day you will “GET THE CALL.”

The following is part of a talk I gave at my local writing group. We all have to give these talks from time to time. I was scared witless when my turn came. I hate public speaking, but I had the passion. It allowed me to ask questions and to confess a few of the devious things I did, tricks of the trade I deceived myself into believing. In reality, it showed my total inexperience.

                                                     ***

You have written a fabulous novel, your mother loved it and your girlfriend said it was the best story she had ever read.

Now, who is the lucky publisher? You know everyone will want it. The dollar sign lights up in your eyes. Six figure advance, well maybe you would take five for starters. You are already debating what you will wear to your first book launch.

Who will play the lead role when your masterpiece is made into a movie?

These are the questions you ask yourself.

Believe you me I have tried just about every gimmick known to man (or woman) as the case may be.

I have had so many near misses, I could write a book about it.  A publisher accepted my book then was taken over by another publisher who didn’t want my work.  I got myself an agent who unfortunately died. I finally got published and my book was out for a couple of months then the company went out of business.

What do you do?  Lie in a corner in the foetal position. Kick, scream etc.

NO, throw yourself a pity party if you like, have a few chockies/drinks and get on with it.

I have sent manuscripts to the large category romance publishers. The bigger the better I thought and received rejection letters, the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. I could paper the side wall of my house with them.  Along the way I entered and won, or was commended in, unpublished manuscript awards so I was reassured that I had some talent.

In desperation (before the e-book revolution), I posted off a manuscript that had been rejected a few months earlier, but this time I used my maiden name and my mother’s address. It was returned. Then I decided to send the manuscript off again and pretended to be my husband. I wrote a little introductory note saying I was a male nightshift worker at an international airport, (which he was).

A couple of months later the manuscript was returned from the junior editor saying she quite liked the storyline, I really did write like a woman, but they had read something similar only a few weeks previously.

My blood was up; the bit was between my teeth.  I had to get my story out of the “slush” pile and on to the Senior Editors desk. But how?

A few weeks before Christmas a friend of ours, who was a sales representative, proposed a daring plan that couldn’t fail. He said. “Wrap the manuscript up in Christmas paper, put a fancy ribbon on it and send it to the senior editor. No junior editor would dare open the boss’ Christmas present.” What a master stroke I thought, the man was a genius.

Well, a couple of months later, said present winged its way back to me, pretty ribbons intact, sticky tape untouched by human hand. The brief note said. Thank you for the gift, but we don’t accept presents. Merry Christmas etc. etc. The devastation was killing. I felt like the world had ended.

Then I got smart.

I joined a local writers group, attended conferences, and honed my skill, researched the markets and found Whiskey Creek Press and The Wild Rose Press. I now have eight novels published, so my passion and hard work (without the devious manoeuvres) eventually paid off.

Perseverance and passion is the key. Don’t ever give up on your dream of publication.

http://www.margarettanner.com/

A LEAP OF FAITH - THE ACT OF SELECTION

In a leap of faith, driven by desperation and the chance to improve the lives of their families in Australia, men took advantage of the Selection of Land Act, and staked their claim on parcels of crown land. Unfortunately, for many inexperienced in the ways of farming in a harsh continent like Australia, they were doomed to failure and heartache. Many not only lost their land but their lives. Others struggled on for years, their lives blighted by bitterness and regret at a leap of faith that didn’t deliver the riches they had dreamed of. Some made an adequate living. A few, of course, prospered. Rather than a leap of faith, I would call it a lottery. It all depended on the experience of the man, but more importantly the quality of the land on which he selected.

In Australia the 1860/61 Land Act allowed free selection of crown land. This included land illegally occupied by the squatters, (wealthy ranchers), who had managed to circumvent the law for years. A similar scheme apparently operated in the US as well, (nesters against the ranchers).

The Act sometimes allowed selectors (small farmers) access to the squatters’ land, and they could purchase between 40 and 320 acres, but after that, the authorities left them to fend for themselves. Not an easy task against the wealthy, often ruthless squatters who were incensed at what they thought was theft of their land.

The Act of Selection was intended to encourage closer settlement, based on intensive agriculture. Selectors often came into conflict with squatters, who already occupied land. The bitterness ran deep for many years, sometimes erupting into violence.

Steele Rudd (a pseudonym for Arthur Hoey Davis 14.11.1868 – 11.10.35), an Australian author wrote a story On Our Selection. He based it on his father’s experience as a selector struggling to make ends meet on a small parcel of land.  It started out as just one chapter published in a magazine in December 1895 and eventually became the basis for Dad and Dave, a popular radio series which ran from 1932 – 1952.

Henry Lawson 1867 – 1922, was born on the gold fields of NSW. Many believed him to be the first poet to capture the Australian way of life. After a childhood ear infection, he was totally deaf by the age of 14, and he grew up to be bitter about his poverty and ill-fortune.

In 1888 he started publishing his stories and poems.

The Fire at Ross’ Farm, was a classic poem about selector versus the squatter.

Robert Black, the squatter’s son, loved Jenny Ross the selector’s daughter.
When Robert tells his father about the bushfire (wild fire) threatening the Ross farm, his father said, and I quote these couple of lines from Henry Lawson’s poem, which I feel epitomise the extent of the hatred and mistrust between the squatters and the selectors.

Then let it burn the squatter said, I’d like to see it done

I’d bless the fire if it would clear Selectors from my run (run is an old, no longer used, Aussie term for ranch).

Frontier Wife, from The Wild Rose Press, is set against this background.

The heroine’s uncle selected 80 acres for his farm on Adam Muno’s 40,000 acre property.

FRONTIER WIFE

Tommy Lindsay arrives in colonial Australia to claim the rundown farm she and her brothers have inherited.

Hidden behind her fragile English rose beauty, beats the heart of a courageous young woman. She will need all this strength to survive the unforgiving heat, and the dangers lurking around every corner.  Lost in the bush, capture by a feral mountain family, raging bushfires are nothing, compared to the danger she faces if she gives her heart to wealthy squatter, Adam Munro.

Adam has no room in his heart to love a woman.  All he ever wanted was a presentable wife who would provide him with heirs.   He didn’t need passion in his life, not until he met the beautiful English rose living next door to him.

Only in the new world can a highborn young Englishwoman and a tough frontier man, ignite the passion that will fulfill their hopes and dreams in ways they never imagined possible.

 http://www.thewildrosepress.com/frontier-wife-p-4099.html

 Margaret Tanner

Australian Historical Romance Author

Australia Day, January 26th

Read on for a bit of Australian history by Genre-ista, Margaret Tanner.


Hi everyone.

I know this has nothing to do with New Years Resolutions or a lead up to Valentine’s Day, but as I am an Aussie, I thought this would be a change of pace.
 
The Australian flag shows the British Union Jack in the upper left and six white stars on a blue background

Captain James Cook (1728 – 1779) was born in Yorkshire, England.  He was the man who discovered Australia. He led an expedition to the South Seas in command of the Endeavour. They sailed from Plymouth on the 26^th August 1768 with a compliment of ninety four, including the Botanist, Joseph Banks. Sailing via Cape Horn they reached Tahiti on the 13^th April 1769.

Cook had been instructed to determine the existence of a southern continent. He sailed to New Zealand in August, circumnavigated the islands, and charted the coastline and took possession of New Zealand for the British government.

On the 19^th April, 1770, they spotted land at the south east of the Australian mainland. Cook continued sailing north, charting the coast as he sought a safe harbour for repairs to the Endeavour. They landed at Stingray Bay on the 29^th April and renamed it Botany Bay. As he did with New Zealand, Cook claimed the great south land for the British government, who a few years later decided that this would be a great place to send their unwanted convicts, many of whom, because of overcrowding in the prisons because they could no longer be shipped off to America, were incarcerated in rotting hulks on the river Thames.  Many were petty thieves, who were transported for what we would consider minor crimes – stealing a loaf of bread, shop lifting some hair ribbons. Others were political prisoners or innocent victims of an unjust and uncaring society, like Maryanne Watson, the heroine in my 1820’s novel, Savage Utopia, which is set against the background of transportation to the penal colony of Australia.

On the 26th January 1788 Captain Arthur Phillip, who guided the First Fleet to the island continent of Australia, claimed the Colony of New South Wales for the British Empire.  He also became Governor of the colony. Slowly, a British society evolved based on the distinctions between convicts and free settlers.

 The fledgling colony began to mark the anniversary of the 26th January 1788 with formal dinners and informal celebrations.

In 1817 when Governor Macquarie recommended the adoption of the name ‘Australia’ for the entire continent instead of New Holland, a new nation started to emerge. By the 1820’s, Australia began to prosper and Australian patriotism started to be expressed at gatherings. In the early days the colony was a small society of cliques, with severe social requirements and rigid class lines, but the stain of convict blood could not be completely obliterated even though many tried to hide their tainted past. Many ex-convicts prospered and their Australian born children began to see themselves as unique because of their upbringing and isolation from Europe.

Throughout the early nineteenth century, Foundation Day, as it was called, became known for sporting events. But the growing sense of patriotism was being expressed in by poets. On the 26^th January 1824, poet, Charles Thompson paid tribute to his native country with a collection of poems even though his father had been transported to Australia as a convict.

In the summer of 1836, a group of seafaring Sydneyites decided to celebrate the founding of their new nation with a sailing regatta. The Australia Day Regatta is still held on Sydney Harbour on the 26th January each year and it has become the oldest continuous sailing regatta in the world.

In 1838, fifty years after Captain Phillip landed, a number of celebratory events were organised and the first public holiday ever marked in Australia was announced for the 26th January.  This started a tradition which lasts to this very day.

SAVAGE UTOPIA published by Whiskey Creek Press

On board the convict ship taking them to the penal colony of Australia, Maryanne Watson and Jake Smith meet and fall in love, but Jake hides a terrible secret that will take him to the gallows if it ever comes out.

On arrival in Sydney the lovers are separated. Maryanne is sent to work for the lecherous Captain Fitzhugh. After he attacks her she flees into the wilderness and eventually meets up with Jake who has escaped from a chain gang.  They set up home in a hidden valley and Maryanne falls pregnant.  Will Jake come out of hiding to protect his fledgling family? And how can love triumph over such crushing odds?

Margaret Tanner is an award winning, multi-published, Australian historical romance writer who loves delving into the past.

Her website is http://www.margarettanner.com/

A ROMANTIC SCENE FOR VALENTINE'S DAY FROM MARGARET TANNER

Margaret Tanner’s historical romance novels have been inspired by the hardships and triumphs of her pioneering ancestors in frontier Australia.

Wild Oats, the story from which this romantic moment comes was an EPICON 2010 Finalist.  

SHORT INTRODUCTION:

Captain Phillip Ashfield toasted his elevation to fatherhood, as a barrage of artillery pounded the battle scarred fields around him.

English aristocrat, Phillip Ashfield, comes to Australia to sow some “Wild Oats”.  After seducing Allison Waverley, he decides to marry an heiress to consolidate the family fortunes.  Phillip has made a fatal choice, that will not only ruin his own life, but the repercussions will be felt by the next generation.

To save Allison from the disgrace of having Phillip’s baby out of wedlock, Tommy Calvert, who has always loved Allison, marries her. Mortally wounded on the French battlefields, Tommy is found by Phillip who learns that Allison has borne him a son. He vows to claim the boy when the war is over, because his wife cannot give him an heir.

My love scene begins at The Palais Theatre, an ornate building, which still stands on the foreshore of the Melbourne suburb of St Kilda. It is October 1914, just prior to Tommy’s embarkation for the war in Europe.

The lights dimmed when the Tango was introduced. Every man in the room held his partner close. This dance had made the Palais notorious. Evil, depraved and immoral, were just a few of the descriptive words printed by the newspapers, but Allison liked it. Neither she nor Tommy could dance, but they soon copied the antics of others, and laughed and clapped as much as anyone.

The tempo of the place quietened when the saxophones in the band started up to accompany the man who sang, “If you were the only girl in the world, and I was the only boy...” They stood close together, listening, until it finished.

“Let’s leave now,” Tommy said, and Allison waited near the door as he went to collect her coat. He helped her into it, took her hand and they left.

Instead of making for the train station, Tommy led her towards the beach. It was a cool night, with dark clouds scudding across the sky, but numerous stars twinkled. The breeze blowing straight in off the sea smelt moist and salty, the soft sand caressed their feet.

They didn’t speak, just ambled away from the lighted Palais. Except for the muted sound of the waves, silence hung over the beach, and Allison felt as if they were the last two people left in the world.

Tommy stopped and drew her close. “I love you, Allison.” He started whistling the tune. “If you were the only girl in the world, and I was the only boy,” softly in her ear and she leaned her head against his chest.

A magic spell cast itself over them. She didn’t want to speak, lest the spell be broken. Some instinct from deep within warned her this moment, once it disappeared, would never come again. She closed her eyes to shut out everything except Tommy’s nearness.

Wild Oats is published by The Wild Rose Press.