WWII

December 17, 2013 by Tricia Goyer 57 Comments

Books on Sale | 12 Days of Christmas Giveaways Day 5

Right now for a limited time, three of my books are on super sale! For a list of all my books you can buy digitally and physically, check out my book page.

*Please note: Before you purchase one of these books for the price listed below, check to see if the sale price still applies. Prices and dates are subject to change.

Merry early #Christmas! Three of @TriciaGoyer’s books are on #sale:

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12 Days of Christmas Giveaways Day 5

I’m celebrating Christmas with my favorite blog readers by giving away a different book pack each day! Today’s book pack is the Amish Pack, which includes: The Promise Box, A Christmas Gift for Rose, and Along Wooded Paths. Winners will be announced on my blog on Christmas day!

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December 17, 2013 by Tricia Goyer 57 Comments

Books on Sale | 12 Days of Christmas Giveaways Day 5

Right now for a limited time, three of my books are on super sale! For a list of all my books you can buy digitally and physically, check out my book page.
*Please note: Before you purchase one of these books for the price listed below, check to see if the sale price still applies. Prices and dates are subject to change.

Merry early #Christmas! Three of @TriciaGoyer’s books are on #sale:

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12 Days of Christmas Giveaways Day 5

December 2, 2013 by Tricia Goyer 2 Comments

The Stories I Had to Tell

Stories of World War II

Voices quieted. Eyes lowered. Hands trembled as the two veterans revisited the place that was never far from their thoughts.

I never thought twice about World War II. A stay-at-home mom, I enjoyed writing about parenting. With three kids under ten, I had plenty to write about.

Then came the trip to Europe with two friends. They were both novelists, researching for works-in-progress. And myself . . . I was still coming to terms with my grandfather’s death from cancer. When we knew there was no use in Grandpa fighting any longer, I brought him home and cared for him for four months. After juggling hospice visits, housecleaning, and kids’ homework, a relaxing time with friends was just what I needed.

To be honest, when my fellow travelers told me the final research stop was Mauthausen concentration camp in Austria, it was the last thing I wanted to do. Why not stop by a museum in Vienna or attend a Mozart concert in the park? I’d witnessed death firsthand. I didn’t need to hear about atrocities that took place decades ago.

But instead of giving us a tour of the camp, Martha—the historian—invited us into her home. She served us tea and biscuits. And then she started telling us stories.

“Near the end of the war, there was much confusion.” Martha’s thin hands spread jam on the flaky roll. “German guards knew both the Americans and Russians neared. Many officers fled. Of course, the approaching Americans had no idea what awaited them. Twenty-three GIs on reconnaissance came upon a camp filled with thin, skeletal men and women. They opened the gates, and 25,000 prisoners were liberated.”

I thought about my grandfather. During his last days we’d discussed many things. He told me about growing up in Kansas with ten brothers and sisters during the Great Depression. He told me about moving to California during the Dust Bowl. He’d mention the war—only briefly—but I noted the pain in his eyes and quickly changed the subject. Yet as I sat listening to Martha I wondered about those twenty-three men. Did they still live? Did horrific memories plague them? Did they realize that even after all these years a historian still shared their story?

Have you taken time to listen to the #stories around you? @TriciaGoyer

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My tea grew cold as I listened. Martha continued, telling us about the first person into the camp.

“She was a Nazi officer’s wife. She didn’t like what was happening. Her husband had fled and as soon as the gates were open she took her two children into the camp and fed and cared for the prisoners. To this day the survivors still speak of her beauty and her tender care.”

We left Martha’s home that day and my heart was full. It wasn’t rest I had needed, but a new passion. More than anything I wanted to write this amazing story.

When I arrived home, I contacted the 11th Armored Division and asked if any of the men were still alive. A short list of names and addresses was sent to me. Excitement, mixed with wonder, surged through me as I wrote them each a note. Would these men share their stories?

The first response arrived in my mailbox less than a week later. Not only did LeRoy wish to talk to me, he invited me to the 59th reunion of the 11th Armored Division, stating that many of the men were eager to talk to me.

I asked a friend to join me, and together we flew across the country. I assumed it would take a few days for the men to warm up to me. I never expected the line of men waiting to talk to me, photos in hand, when I arrived.

The first two men I talked to where Charlie and Arthur. They’d been friends during the war, and sixty years later they still finished each other’s sentences. They laughed as they shared their antics, like the time Charlie’s boots accidentally got “baked” in the oven. And then they spoke of the camps.

Voices quieted. Eyes lowered. Hands trembled as the two veterans revisited the place that was never far from their thoughts. Other veterans shared their personal experiences, and although they were old men, I saw the look of young heroes in their gazes.

I took the many, many recorded stories and used them as the inspiration for my first novel, From Dust and Ashes. After four years in print, it still sells well and has been translated to Dutch and German.

From that first reunion, I heard other stories too. One man’s story about an orchestra of camp prisoners at Mauthausen resulted in my novel Night Song. Another about a man’s experiences in the Bataan Death March, led to Dawn of a Thousand Nights. And while I loved writing the novels, even more meaningful were the amazing relationships with dozens of men—many, many grandpas.

A dozen or so veterans still write and email. Many more have passed away. Yet, it warms my heart to know they died knowing their stories would live on.

Doing a little #listening might inspire your life! @TriciaGoyer

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Even today I received a letter from my veteran friend LeRoy. He wrote to tell me about his recent stroke and about a special women he still corresponds with. You see, another amazing thing that resulted from my first novel was the two people I was able to connect: Hana—an infant born inside the concentration camp—and the medic who saved her life.

Hana had read my novel, and she asked about the men I interviewed. She told me about one special medic, and I was able to give her the name and number of the medic I interviewed. It just so happened that LeRoy was the man who saved her life!

Survivor and liberator were reunited after all these years because I was willing to listen, to embrace, to care, and to share. The experiences of heroes will live on. A new generation of readers are now discovering little-known stories from World War II. And my life story will never be the same.

Looking for a Christmas present to give to a reader this holiday season? Why not give a copy of Chasing Mona Lisa?

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November 11, 2013 by Tricia Goyer 2 Comments

The Story Behind the Novel 'From Dust to Ashes'

I can clearly remember when my interest was sparked by the liberation events that took place in St. Georgen, Austria, during World War II. An Austrian historian had invited me and my friends into her home, serving tea and bread, meat and cheeses. It was the end of a long day of travel, and I secretly desired a hot shower and a soft bed. But it wasn’t long before our host had me intrigued with her true tales of villains, prisoners, and GI heroes.
I sat—eyes wide—as Marta described the twenty-three American GIs who had stumbled upon the Gusen camps May 5, 1945. I imagined their horror as they witnessed prisoners reduced to skin and bones. Or worse, piles of corpses. But Marta also spoke of other things, such as the first help to enter the camp: a young Nazi wife with her children in tow.
Who was she? I wondered. Obviously, she had not believed in the Nazi persecution. What would it have been like to witness such horror helplessly? How was her life forever changed?
I also imagined those prisoners who were mere days from death. How did they go on after facing such hatred, such loss? Just the night before, on a dinner cruise in Prague, I had sat elbow-to-elbow with a young Jewish girl and her brother.

Celebrate #VeteransDay with @TriciaGoyer and read about the story behind one of her WWII novels:

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“Fifty years ago, they would have been killed,” my friend whispered in my ear as we talked and laughed with our new friends. It was then that the horrors of WWII became real, and I knew I would never be the same.
After we left Marta’s house that night, I turned to traveling companions—also fiction writers. “Are you going to write about this?” At that moment their no’s became my yes.
I went home with much excitement and began researching the events concerning the liberation of Gusen and Mauthausen death camps. But I soon realized no articles or fuzzy black-and-white photos could ever take the place of speaking with those who were actually there. So in August 2001, I was invited to attend the 59th reunion of the 11th Armored Division.
In Kalamazoo, Michigan, I spoke to the brave men, now in their 70s and 80s who had liberated the death camps. Their bodies have aged, but in their hearts they are still the same brave, young soldiers who witnessed so much.
As the research progressed, I was also able to visit Austria a second time to participate in the memorial services celebrating liberation so many years prior. And while there, I spoke with others, including a man who was just twelve years old in 1945. I was awed as he led me through the streets where former SS houses still stand. And tears formed in my eyes as I stood before the guesthouse of the brave, Nazi wife, now gone.

When real life inspires a #novel: @TriciaGoyer shares her experience.

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So fueled by memoirs, oral histories, and personal interviews, I began to write. And in my mind, the streets of St. Georgen and the events of 1945 soon became as real as life around me.
On that sunny day in October, my greatest concern had been resting after a long day of travel. It was only later, after months of writing, that I realized God’s intentions were far greater. His plan was to have me share a story of liberation. A story inspired by true events . . . and true heroes.

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July 11, 2013 by Tricia Goyer 14 Comments

17 Ways Readers Can Help Authors Sell More Books

Authors can write more books when readers help them sell! — When you’re done reading the book … make sure you tell others what you think!

Do you have a favorite author? Do you want to see more books from that author? The best way to ensure that author gets more book contracts is to help the author get more book sales. And the best way to get book sales is for YOU to spread the word.

If you’re interested in helping an author spread the word about his or her book, here’s how! <click to tweet>

Review the book
Do a video review
Share photos of yourself reading the book (or of your baby holding the book—adorable!)
Ask your local bookstore to carry the book (and recommend it to readers!)
Recommend the book to reading groups
Ask your library to order it for its shelves
Buy the book for your friend’s birthday
Tweet your favorite lines from the book
Ask the author for bookmarks. Many have ones you can share, and they are happy to mail them to you
Attend a booksigning if the author is coming near you.
Add the book on your Goodreads shelf and add the author’s book on a list
Offer to host the author on your blog
Join a launch team. Many authors have teams of people who help them spread the word during the first month of a book’s release
Connect with the author on Facebook and Twitter
Pin the cover of the book on Pinterest
Create Pinterest images with quotes from the book
Finally, talk about the book. Most people buy books because of word-of-mouth.

Now, what about you? What are your favorite ways to tell others about your favorite books?

P.S. I love what this author has done. So creative! Can I be this video savvy when I grow up?

March 16, 2013 by Tricia Goyer Leave a Comment

Lee Miller, Penning World War II

Elizabeth “Lee” Miller was born in 1907 and was an American photographer. Lee’s career started in New York as a successful fashion model. In the 1920s she moved to Paris, became established in the fashion industry, and was an acclaimed fine art photographer, but everything changed for Lee during World War II. Fashion had no place in a time of war. Lee became an acclaimed war corresponded for Vogue Magazine. She was on hand covering the London Blitz, the liberation of Paris, and the concentration camps at Buchenwald and Dauchau. And one famous photograph of Lee herself shows her cavorting in Adolf Hitler’s bathtub!

Lee Miller was the inspiration for my character Lee O’Donnelly, my character in Arms of Deliverance.

Arms of Deliverance is part of the Liberator’s Series. Click here to discover how to buy all four novels for $13.75!

Here is how Lee is introduced in the novel:

The senator led Mary through the front doors of the lobby, then turned and paused. As if on cue, the door to the second limo opened, and a tall, attractive young women climbed out. Dressed as impeccably as the senator herself, she slid from the passenger’s seat, smoothing her sky blue suit with manicured fingers.

“Lee O’Donnelly. I should have known,” Mary whispered, hugging her notebook tighter to her chest.

“So you know her?” The senator straightened her collar. “Of course you do. I hear from her father she’s only been away from Vogue for a few months and has already made a splash in city reporting. I just love women with gumption.”

Lee approached, offering a bright smile to the doorman, who opened the glass door wide for her entrance. Her heels clicked on the polished lobby floor and gold bracelets jingled on her wrist. Lee smiled at the senator, but the look faded when she noticed Mary. One lone eyebrow jutted up as if to say What are you doing here?

Like with my fictional character Lee, war changed the real Lee Miller. She saw things she couldn’t imagine and her writing and photographs gave the outside world an inside view of what truly had been happening in Europe–death, destruction, pain. Sadly, what Lee experienced during the war caused post-traumatic stress and she started drinking. Her photographs live on long after her, allowing all of us to feel a connection to the war.

Here’s a photograph that Lee Miller took:

Click here to see more of Lee’s photos from the war in Europe!

Researching Lee Miller was fascinating. I learned that World War II was the first time they had female war corespondents.

Read the rest of this blog over on Writes of Passage!

December 8, 2012 by Tricia Goyer 2 Comments

Earl Williams and His Pearl Harbor Story

Yesterday was Pearl Harbor Day, which made me think of this blog post I wrote last year. Please read, and make sure you thank all the veterans in your life for their service to our country!

Today I have a special story to share. Earl Williams was kind enough to share his personal Pearl Harbor story with me. This story was one of those that inspired my novel Dawn of a Thousand Nights.

I’m thankful for Earl and for the other men who served!

My Pearl Harbor Story
By Earl T. Williams
Colonel, USAF (Retired)

On December 6, 1941, I was an Army Air Corps Sergeant with a First Class Air Mechanics rating. It was my first trip across the ocean, and I was assigned, along with five others from the 38th Reconnaissance Squadron, to departed Hamilton Field on December 6, 1941. The first stop of destination was Hickam Field, Hawaii.

The flight to Hawaii was approximately 14 hours arriving, and we arrived at about 0800 hours local time. From the pilot’s compartment, I peeked out and first sighted Diamond Head. It was my first realization that we’d made it. Hawaii.

Lieutenant Schick turned to me with a smile. “I would take a million dollars for this trip.”
With a wide grin, I returned to the radio compartment to take in more sights and converse with Sergeant Bruce and Private Lee.

As we flew past Diamond Head, Sergeant Bruce who had been to Hawaii before, pointed out some of the notable sights: Diamond Head, Waikiki Beach, and the Royal Hawaiian Hotel.

Yet as we passed over Waikiki Beach, it wasn’t the sand the drew out attention. Instead it was the three-fighter type aircraft passing off our right wing, speeding in the opposite direction.

Sergeant Bruce offered them a wave of his hand. “Those hafta be U.S. Navy aircraft sent up to escort us in to Hickam.”

How wrong he was.

The words were barely out of his mouth when plastic canopy over the 50-caliber machine guns disintegrated. Some welcome that was!

My first though was that the U.S. Navy had mistakenly loaded live ammunition in their guns.
The bullets continued piercing the radio compartment, and the cotton filler in the soundproofing tumbled in the air like snowflakes.

Attempted to catch my breath, I crouched behind the armor plating on the aft wall of the radio compartment. Next, bullets pierced the pyrotechnic flares we carried in the radio compartment for signaling purposes. Smoke and a very hot fire immediately filled the compartment. To make matters worse, I felt a bullet slice through the top of my head.

I hurried to the pilot’s compartment as blood streaming down my face and into my eyes and mouth. My hair caught fire, and I felt a burning sensation on the back of my ears and neck. Sergeant Bruce and Private Lee also fled the fire, running to the rear of the aircraft.

As I entered the pilot’s compartment the splattering of bullets could be heard hitting the armored plate behind the pilot and copilot, then ricocheting around the compartment. Lieutenant Schick perched on the edge of the observer’s seat, and I from the blood on his clothing I noted he was hit. It mustn’t have been a bad hit, because the Lieutenant was fully alert.

I attempted to tell the pilot what was happening in the radio compartment, but his mind was focused on landing the aircraft. Black smoke now filled the compartment and he could barely make out the instruments, let alone find a safe place to land. Somehow the pilot got us to the ground, and as we rolled to a stop on the runway, the aircraft snapped in two at the point of fire in the radio compartment.

“What’s the best way to get out?” Lieutenant Schick asked, attempting to remain calm.

“The upper hatch or the lower entrance door,” I told him.

He hurried out the lower door, and I followed. Yet the danger was far from over. Fighter planes continued to strafe our aircraft. Lieutenant Schick exited the aircraft, towards the safety of the buildings, but he hadn’t gotten far before the bullets hit him, and he was killed.

I waited, crouching behind the aircraft landing gear until the strafing stopped. Then I darted toward the hanger line, meeting up with Lieutenant Reid the copilot and Lieutenant Taylor the navigator. Both had minor wounds.

Around us there was a flurry of activity as servicemen set up gun positions. We asked for directions to the base hospital. Since I did not know the extent of my wound, I joined the two officers in search of aid.

Wounded and dying men lay on stretchers outside the hospital lawn. We entered the hospital and were immediately provided attention because we were identified as air crewmembers, and they wanted us to get back to duty. The hair around my wound was clipped and a dressing applied. I was then given a tetanus shot and letter TET painted on my forehead with a read antiseptic. At that pint I lost contact with Lieut. Reid and Taylor.

After treatment at the hospital, I started back to the flight line where the remains or our aircraft was located. As I passed the large barracks located adjacent to the parade grounds, enemy bombers began dropping bombs on the barracks. I sprinted as fast as I could towards the flight line, avoiding the continuing enemy fighter fire. When it appeared that the enemy activity had ceased, I located Sergeant Bruce. We made inquiries as to the location of our friends, but to no avail.

For the rest of the day, we helped in the frenzy, helping to string telephone wire between gun positions. Only later that we learned that Lieutenant Schick had indeed been killed and Air Cadet Beale, Master

Sergeant Pouncey, and Private Lee had been seriously wounded.

I was one of the lucky ones who made it on the Jap’s first attack on the U.S. It was my first taste of war, but not my last. As a member of a new crew, I went on as a combat crewmember to fly 55 combat missions out of Australia and New Guinea for which I was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross.

Some may think it was an odd coincidence that we met the Japs in the sky that day. And it was. Two sets of planes, crossing two ends of the ocean.

It’s a meet-up I’ll never forget.

Be sure to read Dawn of a Thousand Nights, inspired by this story!

December 7, 2012 by Tricia Goyer Leave a Comment

Veteran’s Day

Honoring Our Veterans

Sometimes the best stories are the ones hidden deep in a heart.

Today I opened a bubble envelope from my friend John. John is 86-years-old. I first met him in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Or, wait, maybe it was Buffalo, New York. You see, I traveled to those places to interview Veterans from the 11th Armored Division. I first heard about these World War II vets when I was touring Mauthausen Concentration Camp in Austria. I was awed by the stories I heard. Those stories soon inspired a novel, From Dust and Ashes, and many more novels after that. What I didn’t realize that while the novels were nice, an even greater gift has been the relationships with the dozens of men like John. The best stories are the ones I found deep in a veteran’s heart.

(John and I meeting for the first time)

Opening the bubble envelope from John I found a few things. First was a booklet published by the Shippensburg Historical Society. The Battle of the Bulge: One Small Corner by Dr. John Fague. There are some newspaper clippings from John’s column, “Do You Remember?” And …

Gasp. There are photocopies of letters that 19-year-old John wrote to his mother…

Read the rest of this post over on Seekerville!

My novel A Secret Courage is available on eBook right now for only $1.99!

I loved writing this novel about Emma who was a member of the Photographic Reconnaissance Unit–an actual unit in WWII. Their job was to study pictures taken by planes that would fly over Europe looking for changes. They had to have a keen eye for details and spend hours pouring over large photographs of bunkers and countryside trying to see any hint of enemy behavior.

I imagined her drinking tea and focusing intently on small grainy images knowing that her job might save–or cost–lives. The sacrifices these women made during this time to help in any way possible is immeasurable. What might she be feeling? What brought her to Europe? Why did she join the Women’s Auxillary Air Force?

These are the questions that got me thinking and kept me writing. They sent me on a journey to flesh out Emma and her story. I hope you enjoy it!

American Emma Hanson came to England to study at Oxford, but joined the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force at the height of World War II. She is stationed at beautiful and historic Danesfield House west of London as part of the highly secretive Photographic Reconnaissance Unit.

Englishman Will Fleming is a handsome young artist who has been commissioned by the British government to record the changing landscape in paintings. His path intersects with Emma’s when his real mission—tracking Nazi spies—leads him to Danesfield House, the target of a sinister plot.

Emma and Will become friends, but neither can reveal the true nature of their assignment. Can their relationship grow amid such secrecy? And can Will save Danesfield House—and Emma and her coworkers—before it’s too late?

Available now at your favorite eBook retailer including Apple iBooks!

Honoring Our Veterans

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Disclosure of Material Connection: Some of the links in the post above are “affiliate links.” This means if you click on the link and purchase the item, I will receive an affiliate commission. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I use personally and believe will add value to my readers. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

May 28, 2012 by Tricia Goyer 5 Comments

In Their Words: Veterans’ Stories

As early as 1940, prisoners began arriving at the small train station at Mauthausen, where nestled in the hills was a hidden concentration camp. A full two years before the bombing of Pearl Harbor, this once peaceful community was already experiencing the horrors of war.

By January 1941, the Mauthausen-Gusen camps became the only ‘Category I’ camps in Third Reich history, meaning “camp of no return.” Prisoners were used as slave labor in quarries and munitions factories. These men and women were worked to death or killed not long after their arrival. The estimated number of people killed in the Mauthausen camp system is between 120,000 and 300,000. Most who entered the large gates never exited.

In May 1945 everything changed. American troops had fought through France, Belgium and Germany and had now crossed the Austrian border. They were headed toward the camp, though they didn’t know it yet.

The first American U.S. GIs at the camp were the 41st Recon Squadron, 11th Armored Division, Patton’s 3rd Army. The men opened the gates and brought the prisoners what they never expected — freedom — followed by food, clothes and the care of medics.

When the camp’s historian, Martha, told me about these men, I knew I wanted to meet them and to hear their stories. What was it like to grant these prisoners their freedom? How did it affect these men? When I arrived home, I researched their experiences and contacted their division’s veteran organization to ask if it would be possible to interview any of the men. I was overwhelmed with the response. The men invited me to their annual reunion in Kalamazoo, Mich.

Those I’d connected with through letters were waiting with their photos, stories and tears. After all these years they have not forgotten. I talked to Arthur and Charlie first. They’d been best friends during the war and 55 years later still finished each other’s sentences. Thomas, LeRoy, and Tarmo were next, telling me their stories. Many more men, each with their own personal experiences, poured out their hearts to me. During the week they had a special ceremony to honor their friends who’d died and to remember the people they liberated. Even after all these years they knew what they did had mattered.

I’d been a Christian since I was a small child, but I had even greater faith after feeling the protection of the Lord pressing upon me. I’m still a strong Christian today because of that experience. Many people can deny the fact that God exists, but not me. I’ve felt His hand . . . and heard His whisper in the midst of war. LeRoy Petersohn

***

On our way to Austria, there is one thing I will never forget. The image of what I spotted from my perch on that tank still brings tears to my eyes nearly 60 years later. “Major,” I says.“I believe the whole German army must be down there. The road is full of people. Just a black line.” I couldn’t distinguish what kind of people they were, but I could see that black line stretched out for miles. I said again, “The whole German army must be down there waiting for us.” He answered very quietly. “No, son, that’s the prisoners from Flossenberg concentration camp. The Germans wanted to clear them out before we got there.”The prisoners reminded me of walking skeletons. Yes, from the top of that tank I’d seen it all — the battles, the barbarity of men, and the joy of liberation. From my perch I witnessed what I’ll never forget — the fight against good and evil. And I was thankful I was part of bringing in the good.” Tarmo Holma

***

I was just a young kid straight out of high school: a replacement for killed or injured troops. Nothing had prepared me for the sight of thin arms and legs poking out of striped uniforms, their distorted faces staring at us, reminding us we were too late. Charles Torluccio

***

I attended two more reunions during the years in Buffalo and St. Louis and interviewed hundreds of veterans. I wrote two historical novels about their experiences, From Dust and Ashes and Night Song,and now Remembering You, but it was the relationship with the men that forever changed my life. I will never forget their stories.

Many people walk out of Mauthausen concentration camp with a sadness of what took place. I experienced that, but as I sought the men who opened the gates I’ve found so much more.

So much more.

I found friendship. I found truth. I discovered God calls us to events we don’t understand, yet in the process we are changed. God was with those veterans then, and for those who are still around, He’s with them now. Their steps are shaky, but their hearts are as noble as ever.

And for those men who I interviewed who are gone: I’ll always have their words and their stories, and I will continue to share them so others know and understand, too.

It’s the least I can do for what they’ve done. The least any of us can do.

November 23, 2011 by Tricia Goyer 2 Comments

The story behind the story…

With each of my novels I write the story behind the story to put on my website. It gives a little more background on the story’s birth and the real-life stories that inspire my books.

Here is the backstory for Remembering You. I was also interviewed by Guideposts about the Veteran’s I’ve interviewed over the years. Watch that video here.

In the last ten years since I started interviewing veterans for my WWII novels, most have passed away. Some of them—realizing their days on earth were coming to an end—returned to Europe one last time with their family members to walk along paths they’ve never forgotten. Those trips inspired my most recent novel, Remembering You.

One of the most amazing experiences was when I received an email from a woman named Hana. She’d heard of my book and knew I’d interviewed some of the veterans. She asked if I’d interviewed any medics. Then she told me an amazing story. Hana was born on a cart just outside of Mauthausen. Her mother had survived being a prisoner of another camp and was transported to Mauthausen at the end of the war.

Hana was just three weeks old when the Americans arrived, and she was very ill. Because of the filthy conditions she got a skin infection and sores covered her body. No one expected her to live. Yet one of the medics saw the small baby and knew he had to do something. Even though it took most of the day, he lanced and cleaned all Hana’s sores, saving her life. Over the years she’d wanted to find the medic, but didn’t know where to start.

I was amazed by Hana’s story and told her I knew one medic—maybe he remembered who that man was. I gave Hana the contact information and I soon heard the good news. My friend LeRoy “Pete” Petersohn was the medic who’d saved her life! The two were soon reunited! After all these years Hana was able to look into the eyes of the man who saved her and thanked him. After all these years Pete was able to meet the woman he saved. “Baby!” he called out when he met her.

Remembering You is a work of fiction, but the experiences of the men are true. The experiences of the main character, Ava, are also true-to-life. I was busy with life when God pointed me to an amazing story, and to even more amazing men. I’m so thankful I took time to listen and care. I’m so thankful I allowed these men to share what … and who … they remembered most.

May 1, 2007 by Tricia Goyer 5 Comments

Goodbye, dear friend

I first met Jim Meyers after posting a notice in our local newspaper that I was looking for veterans to be interviewed by homeschoolers for a history project we were doing. Jim’s wife urged him to call. And I’m so glad she did.

Jim visited with our students and told his story about serving in Italy in WWII.

Later, when I was writing an article for Flathead Living Magazine (I live in Flathead County, Montana), I went to Jim’s home and interviewed him again. Jim’s wife had passed away, but he had a new love–his puppy who he was training to be a hunting dog.

Last week I sent letters out to my veteran friends telling them about my newest novel. I got a typed paper back in return. It informed me that Mr. Meyers was deceased and to take him off my mailing list. Tears filled my eyes as I drove home from the post office.

I hadn’t seen Jim since last June, and now I wish I could have visited with him one more time. Yet, I’m so thankful that God gave me the opportunity to meet such an amazing man. Below I’ve included more photos and the story I’d written about him. This story is just a small segment of the numerous tales Jim told me. Tales I will treasure forever.

Recapturing Italy

Jim Meyers was a member of the 88th Infantry Division, The Blue Devils—the first all-draftee division to enter combat in WWII. It was also first infantry division to enter Rome on June 4, 1944—Meyer’s 22nd birthday.

From February 1944 to May 1945, the 88th Infantry Division spent 344 days in combat. The most memorable of those days included capturing Mt. Battaglia.

Told they needed to take this critical spot, Meyer’s company snaked up narrow mountain trails. Invariably they ran into sniper and machine gun fire. Sometimes the troops were pinned down for 24-hours. Yet, with help from their artillery and mortar division, Meyer’s company finally made it to the top and secured their position.

“We got up there and dug foxholes. It was raining, foggy, wet. And, of course, the Germans wanted that high spot too,” says Meyers. “They bombarded us with machine gun fire and 88 mm artillery shells. We called them Screaming Mimis. We heard them coming and before we knew it we were in the middle of exploding shells.”

Meyer’s troops were on Mt. Battaglia for ten days. Causalities were grave. 50% of the regiment, with all but one company commander, was killed or wounded. One whole company, G Company, was wiped out.

“We had a counter-attack every day, sometimes twice. The only funny moment was when I spotted a man running down the hill, holding his behind saying, ‘I’ve been hit! I’m going home!’ He didn’t realize he’d just be patched up and sent back.”

Meyers was also wounded, but remained on Mt. Battaglia until relieved by the British. After walking nine miles to an aid station, he was flown to a hospital where a piece of shrapnel was removed from his leg. Over sixty years later, he still bears another piece in his ankle.

For their part in the brutal fighting on Mt. Battaglia, the 350th Infantry was awarded the Distinguished Unit Citation. Meyers was also awarded numerous other medals included a Purple Heart, a Bronze Star for heroics, and citations for four major battles.

“One of the most memorable events happened before we got to Mount Battaglia,” Meyers says.

“We were clearing out the Germans, and the wind was blowing so hard with dust, fog and rain that we unknowingly walked right into the German line.”

A big firefight erupted and many man where killed. When the company commander was shot, a medic named Bob Langmeier stepped forward.

“They were going to shoot the captain again, and Bob told them, ‘Don’t shoot my captain! I’ll save him, and I’ll save some of your men.’ So we had a truce as they cared for the wounded.”

After the war, Meyers admits it was hard to adjust. “I learned that life was cheap. I just wanted to find a nice girl, and settle down. War was not fun.”

Jim did settle down and worked in retailing. His wife Pat was a nurse, and they had four lovely girls. They moved to Kalispell in 1977 and were former owners of the Aero Inn. They also traveled to Italy to honor old memories and make new ones.

Today Meyers spends his time working out at The Summit, woodworking, fishing, and attending cultural events such as concerts with the Glacier Symphony Orchestra. After losing his wife Pat last September, Meyers also keeps busy with his puppy Blair.

“There are so many war memories, sad stories and silly ones that race through my mind. It was a long time ago, but I guess it’s something I’ll never forget.”

And, Jim, I’ll never forget you. Goodbye, dear friend.