Reading what we called the “funny papers” was a Sunday
tradition when I was growing up. We all
took turns with the comics, sometimes spreading them out on the floor. At an early age some of the humor escaped me
but there were always a few comic strips I could grasp and one of them was Mort
Walker’s Beetle Bailey. Probably everyone who’s ever read the comics
knows about Private Beetle Bailey and his Army life at Camp Swampy. What many don’t realize, however, is Camp
Swampy came out of Mort Walker’s past and dates back to the time when he was a
young soldier stationed at Camp Crowder in Neosho, Missouri during World War
II.
Most of
Camp Crowder (which briefly grew up into Fort Crowder before the post was
deactivated) is just a memory but the “Crowder area” adjacent to the small town
of Neosho is now home to a community college, the local Y, several industries,
a Bicentennial Park with hiking and horseback trails, and apartments. The Missouri National Guard still owns a
portion of the former Army post and they still do military maneuvers on site.
I attended
my first two years of college at Crowder College which includes two of the
former administration buildings.
Renovations and additions have expanded the campus since my time but
back then it was easy to imagine the soldiers who once went about their daily
duties in the same space. I wrote a
series of articles for the campus newspaper, The Sentry, about the remnants of the former Army post. With my photographer at my side, we
backtracked out into the vast empty spaces gone to scrub brush to see one of
the old theaters, what remained of a PX, the train station platform, and more. A lot of the areas where we went are now
fenced off and restricted but the experience fired my imagination. Learning Camp Crowder was nicknamed “Camp
Swampy” by some of the earliest arrivals and that Mort Walker was one of
several celebrities stationed there just added more fuel to the fire.
My just
released and first full length historical romance novel, In The Shadow of War, is set in Neosho and my heroine –
schoolteacher Bette Sullivan – falls for a soldier from Camp Crowder. After writing those articles for the college
newspaper and penning several non-fiction pieces about the former Camp Crowder
over the years, I enjoyed writing fiction.
I researched Camp Crowder online, visited the small but amazing museum
on the college campus dedicated to the Army years, and even drew on the stories
I heard from my grandfather and uncles who served during World War II. I also headed “out to Crowder” as locals say
and visited the sites which remain accessible.
Here’s the
blurb for In The Shadow of War:
Her
great-granddaughter wants to know if Bette remembers World War II for a school
project and her questions revive old memories…
Small town school teacher Bette Sullivan's life was interrupted
when the Japanese bomb Pearl Harbor on December 7th 1941 but her world changed forever when she met
Private Benny Levy, a soldier from the Flatbush neighborhood in Brooklyn, New York stationed at Camp
Crowder, the local Army base.
Their attraction is immediate and mutual but as their relationship
grows their love and lives are shadowed by World War II. As the future looms
uncertain the couple comes together with almost desperate need and a powerful
love they hope can weather anything, including the war.
Blurb:
Her great-granddaughter wants to know if Bette remembers World War
II for a school project and her questions revive old memories….
Small town school teacher Bette Sullivan's life was interrupted
when the Japanese bomb Pearl Harbor on December 7th 1941 but her world changed forever when she met
Private Benny Levy, a soldier from the Flatbush neighborhood in Brooklyn, New York stationed at Camp
Crowder, the local Army base.
Their attraction is immediate and mutual but as their relationship
grows their love and lives are shadowed by World War II. As the future looms
uncertain the couple comes together with almost desperate need and a powerful
love they hope can weather anything, including the war.
Excerpt:
“I missed you, doll,” he said
afterward. “God, I missed you.”
Warmth blossomed within her chest and she
smiled at him. “I missed you too, Benny. Saturday seemed so long and I didn’t
know if you could come this morning. I worried you might not make it.”
“Me, too,” he said. “I almost missed
the bus anyhow because the company sergeant griped us out because the barracks
weren’t neat enough to suit him.
Yesterday turned out lousy, all day.”
“Why?” she asked. “What happened?”
“What didn’t?” he said. “Jeez, they
made us go on a long hike through the back country, for hours in the heat. I picked up every tick and chigger in the world,
I think, got mosquito bit, and worn out.
Two of the guys fell out with heat exhaustion and ended up at the post
hospital. My feet and ankles itched me
like crazy. Even the darn Army boots didn’t help me from getting eaten by the
insects. I swear the buggers crawled
into my boots.”
“Aw, honey, I’m sorry,” Bette said,
using the endearment for the first time. “Do the bites still itch?”
“Not so bad,” he said. “Back in
barracks, some of the guys said to soak my feet in bleach water so we begged
some from the laundry. It helped. Then after dinner they called me over to the
motor pool to fix a jeep and I got to bed late just before final lights out. I’m beat and that’s a fact.”
Bette paused and faced him. “Would
you rather go rest or something?”
“Naw, sugar, I’m fine. I need some Joe and I’m hungry, too. I just got a couple of hours so let’s go eat
and spend a little time together, okay?”
“It’s fine with me,” she said.
They ate at a different café and she
introduced him to biscuits and gravy, something he vowed he’d never eaten
before but said he liked. Afterward,
with time passing too fast, he suggested they walk down to Big Spring Park
again but she had another idea.“You look so tired,” Bette said. He did with dark smudges beneath both eyes. “If you want we can go sit in the porch swing at Aunt Virgie’s or in the front room.”
Benny shook his head. “I’ll catch a nap later this afternoon, if I’m lucky. I’d like a few more kisses and I doubt your parents would like us spooning out on the porch.”
“I forgot they’re there,” she replied. “So, okay, let’s go to the park.”
Another couple beat them to the grotto, so they wandered around the park until they found a vacant bench in the shade. A few kids played on the teeter-totter and swings, their happy babble setting a bright mood. Benny put his arm around her and Bette snuggled against him with a contented sigh. For a few minutes they sat, comfortable with the pose and content with each other. She’d already come to associate his scent with security and she inhaled it, saving it up for when she’d be alone. As they rested in easy silence she savored the harmony and as they lingered Bette noticed their breath came in tandem, in and out with the same rhythm as if they were one, not two.
Just as she opened her mouth to remark on it Benny took her face and turned it toward him. With slow deliberation he kissed her, unhurried with such sweetness she forgot to breathe for a few seconds. His lips caressed her mouth with a fine light touch, as soft as hair blown across her face with a gentle breeze. Such tenderness evoked the same within and yet triggered desire, too. Benny cherished her mouth with his, his lips sending shivers through her body despite the hot day, little spirals of chill strong enough to make goose pimples erupt on her flesh.
Bette responded with her mouth, a hankering for something deeper and more intimate rising in her with the force of a rising wind. She sensed how great it would be to lose her consciousness by drowning in her senses, by molding her body into his. Bette, virgin as the mother of God, ached now for the pleasures of the flesh. Every old wives tale ever heard about sex being dirty or painful or nasty evaporated faster than snow in March and for the first time in her life, she decided sex could be wonderful.
His kisses stirred Bette’s body even as they induced emotion, too sweet to be sinful. Her body responded to his mouth the way a good corn crop ripened beneath the sun’s warmth. As her limbs relaxed she leaned into him, one hand holding tight to his arm so she wouldn’t lose balance to tumble from the park bench onto the grass. The kiss lasted forever, but not quite long enough when Benny paused so they could both breathe again.
“Oh,” she said with wonder. “Benny, that’s nice.”
“Nice, she says,” he responded with mock outrage. “Just nice? I call it splendid, fantastic superb, supreme…”
Buy Links:
Links:
A Page In The Life: http://leeannsontheimermurphywriterauthor.blogspot.com
Rebel Writer: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy: http://leeannsontheimermurphy.blogspot.com
View the book trailer here:
1 comment:
I just added this to my WL! My family loved reading the Sunday Funnies too. My grandfather's nickname was Beetle and his last name was Bailey so he earned the dub "Beetle Bailey" up until his death in 2010. Miss him a great deal to this day. I love reading WWII stories because undoubtedly they remind me of him in some way or another from the description of the scenery and such :)
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