Jennifer Bohnhoff's Blog, page 35

Commemorating the End of WorlD War 1

This Veteran's Day marks the 100th anniversary of the end of the First World War. To observe this day, I began a very short course on World War 1 Poets for my 8th grade classes today. The first poem I present was For the Fallen, by  Laurence Binyon.

The poet was in his 40s when the war broke out, and he'd never seen battle. He wrote this poem just a month into the war, while sitting on a cliff overlooking the sea in Cornwall. Later he would sign up to be an orderly with the Red Cross, and work a brief stint in a hospital in France.

For the Fallen
By Laurence Binyon

​With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
�
Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
�
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.
�
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
�
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
�
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
�
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Salt Rising Bread: An Old Recipe

​I’ve always been interested in the history of food, particularly as it might relate to the periods in which my novels are set. A year and a half ago, because I was interested in breadmaking during the Civil War, I wrote an article on the history of chemical leavening in breadmaking which you can access here.
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Now that school is out, I’ve got a little more time to play with historical recipes, and I’m back to making old fashioned breads. One I found curious, Salt-Rising Bread, appeared in my James Beard Cookbook, Beard on Bread. Beard called this recipe one of the oldest bread recipes in America, and included it as more of a curiosity than a successful bread. He warned that it could be temperamental and unreliable,  but that just piqued my interest, so I had to do a little more research and then give it a try. Before the 1860s, when commercial yeast was developed, women had to rely on native yeasts (which are a form of fungus) or bacteria to leaven their baked goods. The leavening in Salt-Rising Bread is Closridium perfringens, a bacteria that can cause food poisoning but is rendered harmless by baking. Salt-Rising bread seems to have been developed in the late 1700s by pioneers in the Appalachian mountains. It is still produced in Kentucky, West Virginia, Western New York, and Western Pennsylvania. While this area does not include Gettysburg, where my novel The Bent Reed is set, it is close enough that it might have been baked there. It's also highly probable that the women of Gettysburg, like the women in every town and city in America, collected their own local funguses and bacteria to make similar recipes.
​
No one seems to know why this bread is called Salt-Rising. It does not taste salty, have an unusual amount of salt in it, and salt does not leaven the bread. One source suggested that early settlers kept the starter warm in a bed of heated salt. Another suggested that the salt inhibited yeast growth, allowing other leavenings to grow. I wonder if people just didn't know what leavened the bread, thinking it was the salt instead of bacteria from the potatoes. The starter for salt-rising bread grows in less time than traditional sourdough, but at a higher temperature. Several recipes I looked at said the starter needed to be held at 38-45°C (100–113 °F) for between 6 and 16 hours. James Beard’s recipe suggested waiting 12 to 24 hours. My batch developed a head of foam 15 hours after I began it. Several sources warned that the starter would smell like very ripe cheese. I found that it smelled more like the socks a teenaged boy brought back from scout camp. I do not recommend you have friends with sensitive noses over while you allow your starter to develop.
​
To make a Salt-rising starter, place 1 1/2 cups hot water, 1 medium potato, peeled and sliced thin, 2 TBS cornmeal, 1 tsp sugar and 1/2 tsp salt into a 2 quart mixing bowl and cover with a lid. If you are going to do this the old fashioned way, place the jar in a bowl filled with boiling water and cover with quilts. A more modern way to do the same thing is to place the jar in an electric oven with the light on, or a gas oven with the pilot light on. Let stand for between 12 and 24 hours, until the starter has developed at least 1/2 inch of foam. To turn the starter into bread, strain the starter over a mixing bowl. Pour 1/2 cup warm water over the potatoes in the strainer, then press down with the back of a spoon to release as much of the potato’s moisture as possible. Throw away the potatoes.
 
Add to the mixing bowl 1/4 tsp baking soda, 1/2 cup undiluted evaporated milk, 1 TBS melted butter, 1 tsp salt, and 2 cups of flour. Beat until very smooth. Continue adding up to 2 1/2 cups more flour, a cup at a time, until you have a soft dough.
​
Place a cup of flour on the counter. Turn your dough out of the bowl and knead it into the flour until the dough is smooth and soft. Shape into a loaf and place in a well buttered pan. Brush loaf with melted butter, cover with a piece of buttered (I use spray cooking oil) plastic wrap, and place in a warm, draft-free place to rise. I have a double oven, so I put it back into the oven with the light on.  Rising may take as much as 4 or 5 hours.
​Bake in a preheated oven at 375° for 35-45 minutes. Remove from pans to cool.
 
The resulting loaf had a very fine texture, but the top crust pulled away from the loaf. It had a slightly tangy taste to it, and was excellent with butter and toasted. It reminded me more of beer batter bread than traditional yeast bread, but I think it would be a good breakfast bread, and an excellent accompaniment to a hearty stew.

Jennifer Bohnhoff has written two novels set in the Civil War: The Bent Reed and Valverde. You can read more about all her novels here. 
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Happy Father's Day to all you Daddies

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Shifting Geography

I love old books. They give me a window into a different time, showing me how people thought and what they knew. When a friend recently invited me to help her purge her bookshelves, I jumped at the chance.
One of the books I came home with was Mitchell’s New Primary Geography, printed in Philadelphia in 1871. By this date, I assumed all the world had been mapped, with the possible exceptions of the extreme north and south poles . Since 1871 was the year that Henry Morton Stanley began his quest for Dr. Livingston, I could guess that some of the African interior remained uncharted. But the circumnavigation of the globe was old news, and, I assumed, most of the information presented wouldn’t be that much different than what present day geography books contained.

I was wrong.

On the first page, the book states that there are eight planets. Oh, wait: that’s the case again today. Clyde Tombaugh discovered Pluto, the ninth planet, in 1930, but Pluto was demoted from planetary status in 2006.

But the second page says that there are three continents: the Western, the Eastern, and the Australian.  A map a few pages on has the words “Western Continent” spanning North and South America, while Europe, Asia and Africa are identified as the “Eastern Continent.” Antarctica is nowhere to be seen on this map. While I had always thought there were 7 Continents, a quick search of the web showed that some geographers are now combining Asia and Europe into one continent, setting the number at 6. Others count Greenland and claim 8 continents.

Later, on page 12, the continents are divided into the grand divisions of Europe, Asia, Africa (which is considered a peninsula), North and South America, and Oceania. Antarctica is nothing but a series of indistinct lines waving along the bottom of the map. I guess the Southern portion of the globe had yet to be mapped.

All of these differences are matters of exploration and/or different ways of organizing facts. Mitchell’s Geography becomes truly shocking to modern sensibilities on page 11, when it states that there are five races in the world, and that the White, or Caucasian is superior to the others. The book offers no explanation of this statement, but is presented as just as factual as the number of planets or continents. Perhaps the authors thought that White man's superiority could be attributed to climate. Mitchell asserts that the Earth is divided into three climate zones, which he states affect the constitution, customs, and health of mankind. The coldest parts of the globe, the Frigid Zone, makes men stupid and inactive according to this textbook. The Torrid Zone, where fruits and flowers abound, makes men weak and languid, with indolent habits. It’s only in the Temperate Zone where man is healthiest, happiest, and most civilized.

Page 12 divides the governmental systems of the world into empires, kingdoms and republics. There is no mention of tribal or communal organizations. The religions of the world are Christian, Jewish, Mohammedan, and Pagan. Strange, to lump Hinduism in with Native American religions into that last category.

When describing the population of the United States, this textbook states that “The population of the United States is upwards of thirty-eight millions, of whom about one-eighth are Negroes. The Indians are ignorant and barbarous, and are but few in number.” I suppose minimizing the number of Indians on the North American Continent helped justify the taking of their land. There is no mention of the Hispanics that occupied the Southwestern Territories of New Mexico, Texas, and Arizona.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised by the information provided in this old book, but still, it did shock me to see how very ethnocentric it was. Perhaps the world hasn’t changed much in 150 years, but our perception of it and the people who inhabit it certainly has. We still have a long way to go before society treats everyone equally, but at least we are no longer using textbooks that disparage so much of the human population.

Dinosaurs in New Mexico

Last weekend my husband and I drove out to the North East corner of the state to meet with voters. Shaking hands and talking to people is something my husband has to do, now that he's been appointed to the State Court of Appeals and must run in a contested election to keep the seat. I just go along to offer mental support, answer questions that he can't (judges must be impartial, and therefore can't express opinions on subjects that might come before them!), and carry supplies. Busy though our schedule may be, my husband is kind enough to include something of interest to me. This time, he took an hour to let me see Clayton Lake State Park. Like most of the lakes in New Mexico, Clayton Lake is man made, and not much to write home about. But in the 1980s, heavy rains caused the lake to flood over the spillway, and the water scoured away sandstone to reveal the sixth best set of dinosaur tracks in the United States! The walk from the parking lot to the track site is only a quarter of a mile, on a paved path that would be accessible for wheel chairs and strollers. Once at the site, there are stairs to get down to the walkway shown in the picture below. A day use permit, required to park, costs $5. Have exact change, as no park attendant may be present. At least four different kinds of dinosaurs and some crocodiles left prints in the sandy beach of the inland sea that split the North American Continent in two during the Jurassic Period.  Some of the prints are deep, indicating wet sand. Others are shallow and indistinct, indicating that the sand was dry at the time the prints were made. In one place there is an elongated print and a tail impression, indicating that the dinosaur slipped and used its tail to regain its balance. In another place, two prints show superimposed prints, as if the dinosaur nervously stood on two legs and shuffled indecisively back and forth. Most of the prints belong to two different species of Iguanodons, large plant eating dinosaurs that walked on two legs. Scientists can identify their prints because they show three distinct rounded toes. At least one baby Iguanodon walked long this beach. The tracks lead north and indicate that the dinosaurs were traveling together in a herd. Other tracks show the three sharp talons that indicate a theropod. Scientists say these tracks were made by members of the Arocanthosaurus family, a relative of the Tyrannosaurus Rex that stood 12 feet high at the hip and could be 40 feet long. 

One of the signs suggested that the best time to see the most tracks was early morning or late afternoon, when shadows helped reveal them. The Judge and I visited this site in the late morning. There were lots of signs explaining what we were looking for, and we were grateful, because without the signs we might not have even recognized what we were looking for. I wondered how many times in the past I've traveled over sandstone shelves studded with huecos and depressions that might have been dinosaur tracks and hadn't even stopped to consider them. Most modern people aren't used to looking at tracks, but the hunters of old did. I had to wonder what Apache, or an even earlier Clovis or Folsom men might have thought when they came across these monstrous and unfamiliar prints in the ground. I can only guess that their hearts beat hard as they mentally constructed an image of the beast that might have produced such prints. That might be a scene worth writing. Jennifer Bohnhoff taught New Mexico History for several years and still enjoys learning about the state called The Land of Enchantment. She's yet to write about dinosaurs or early man, but she might someday. You can see her writing on more recent times at her website.

Breaking up with Prince Charles

 One of the big discussions about the recent  marriage of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle centers on the fact that Ms. Markle is both an American and a commoner. But this isn't the first time an American commoner has made a bid for marriage with British royalty. I nearly did it myself forty years ago. 

​In 1979, I had the unusual good fortune to study at the Centre for Medieval and Renaissance Studies in Oxford, England. Early in the Michaelmas, or fall, term, I bought a postcard, wrote a note to my mother, and posted it. Little did I know what a maelstrom I was unleashing. 

​I no longer remember the exact words that I wrote, but they went something like this: Dear Mum, I am having such a splendid time here. I have met the most wonderful man. He takes me to all the poshest places. He's introduced me to the most interesting of people. Next week I am going to London to have tea with his mother. I'm told she raises corgis. If I don't make it home for the holidays, do come to visit." 

​The joke was in the mention of corgis, since that is the kind of dog my family owned. Whenever anyone asked about our family's pet, a long haired Pembroke named Fluffy, my mother would proudly announce that she was the same kind of dog that Queen Elizabeth raised. I was sure my mother would get the joke. But she didn't.

​Instead, my mother called my father on the phone and tearfully informed him that I was never coming home. My father, ever unflappable, asked her to read the postcard's note to him. He then told my mother to turn the postcard over. "It's a picture of Prince Charles, isn't it?" he asked, catching the joke immediately. 

​This threw my mother into an even bigger fit of pique. Not only was I marrying an Englishman and never coming home again, but that man was royalty! I'd be too busy with official state dinners and supermarket openings to even arrange a holiday visit!

​My mother hung up on my father and called my boyfriend. Surely he could talk me out of this madness! Hank, ever willing to oblige my mother, caught a Freddy Laker flight to England that very weekend. When he returned, he informed my mother that all was well, and that I wasn't going to marry Prince Charles after all. A couple of weeks later, I wrote to my mother that Hank and I were engaged. I would return to America by Christmas and be married the next summer.

​My mother really didn't breathe easily until Charles found someone else. About the same time that Hank and I married, news stories connecting Charles with a young woman named Diana Spencer began circulating. They were married a year after I married Hank, my own Prince Charming.

​My marriage has fared much better than Diana's. After 38 years, we're still happy, and my mother continues to be grateful that Hank managed to steal me away from Prince Charles.
Jennifer Bohnhoff teaches middle school and writes historical fiction and other flights of fancy. Although none of her three sons will ever ascend to the throne, she and her Prince Charming of a husband live a fairytale existence in rural New Mexico.  Their sole subject is a  cantankerous cat and, sadly, they have never owned a corgi

​You can read more of her blogs and get information about her books at www.jenniferbohnhoff.com

Spartan Women

A bronze statue, likely of a Spartan woman. c. 500 BCE. (British Museum, London) image in the public domain. My sixth grade social studies classes are just finishing off a study of ancient Greece. One of the takeaways from our studies is that Spartan women had a better life than Athenian women. 

Sparta didn't leave much historical documentation, so historians rely on Greek poets and historians to understand the lives of Spartan women. One Spartan who did leave records was Lycurgus, the Spartan to developed Sparta's legal system in the 7th century B.C. Lycurgus reorganized the political and social structure of the polis into the disciplined collective society that we commonly associate with Sparta. He included allowances for Spartan women that included a public education, the right to exercise and participate in athletic competitions, and the right to manage the money earned from their land. Spartan women were also allowed to appear in public and mingle with men. In the rest of the Greek world, women were largely confined to their own homes.

​It occurred to me that one of the reasons that Spartan women had so much freedom was that their men were too busy with other things, namely war, to bother with micromanaging their women. This made me wonder: does the status of women rise when their men are busy waging war? This was certainly the case for American women during World War II. While their men were engaged in fighting in Europe, Africa and the Pacific, a large number of jobs, especially in munitions and manufacturing, opened to women. An example is the aviation industry. Before the war, just 1% of workers in aviation had been women. By 1943, a whopping 65% of the labor force was female. Granted, women did not have anything near pay parity during this period, but it was a start. World War II wasn't the first time that opportunities for American women expanded because their men were at war. A similar experience happened during the Civil War. Not only did women find themselves in charge of  keeping the home fires burning while the brother in blue fought the brother in gray, but they had to keep farms and businesses going. As men enlisted, two fields of endeavor, nursing and teaching, turned to women to fill the vacancies. The mother of Sarah McCoombs, the main character in my novel The Bent Reed, is determined that her daughter take advantage of this situation by training to become a teacher. Sarah, however, is interested in the healing properties of plants, especially the rapidly developing field of pharmaceuticals, which women had a significant role in developing.

​I am not suggesting that women encourage wars so that they can get ahead while their men are off fighting. Now that the military is welcoming women into combat positions, this strategy wouldn't work anyway. And far more women are hurt by the ravages of war than are helped by the economic and social upheaval. But it is interesting that when the cat's away, the mice not only play, but thrive. ​When she's not writing historical fiction and other books for young readers, Jennifer Bohnhoff teaches 6th grade language arts and social studies in a rural town in central New Mexico.
​For more information on Jennifer's books, go here.
For more information on Spartan women, go here. 
​For more information on women in the WWII workforce, go here. 
​For more information about women's changing roles in the Civil War, go here. 
​For more information on the development of pharmaceuticals during the Civil War, go here.

Spring Break: Books, Soldiers, and Peanut Blossoms through the generations

Although we are in different school districts, my granddaughter and I lucked out and had our spring breaks at the same time this year. To celebrate, she spent the night. When my granddaughter spends the night. We have a routine that is almost inviolate. We read stories and play games, take walks, and always, at her insistence, we bake cookies. Last night, when I asked her which book she wanted to read, I wasn't surprised when she said "Nana, I want the one with the soldiers and the squirrel." Miss Suzy is an oldie, but a goodie, and it's one of her favorite books. It was one of my favorites when I was a child, and my sons enjoyed it a generation later, so it's no wonder my copy is falling apart. A book that's been handled, read and loved for three generations is a real keeper. My granddaughter at my son's graduation from West Point, 2015 I think one of the reasons my granddaughter loves Miss Suzy is because of the brave toy soldiers who run off the thuggish red squirrels who had invaded Miss Suzy's home. My granddaughter loves soldiers, or more accurately, one soldier in particular: her Uncle John.

​When my son graduated from West Point in 2015, my granddaughter was quite taken with his uniform. She gazed up at him and said "You are my tin soldier, and I am your ballerina." This grandma was proud, not only for  her son's accomplishment or the love between family members, but for my then three year old granddaughter's ability to make literary allusions. I'm sure Hans Christian Andersen was smiling down from heaven. The author and her Uncle Jerry. This grandma understands a young girl's fascination with a man in uniform because she had her own love for a soldier, and like my granddaughter, my love was for an Uncle. My Uncle Jerry, my father's younger brother, was a bigger than life character to me. He was handsome and dashing, with a big laugh and a great sense of humor. He told fabulous stories and always seemed to be getting into situations that were both hilarious and a bit frightening. He was rough and tough, but gentle and sweet at the same time.  Unwrapping the kisses. This morning we made a batch of Peanut Blossoms. Like Miss Suzy, these cookies have stood the test of time. They won the Pillsbury Bake-Off in 1957, and have been loved by generations of cookie fans. They are the favorite cookie of both my granddaughter and my soldier son. She made them for him while he was deployed, but just because he's returned to the states doesn't mean she'll stop making them for him.  She'll be taking some home with her for her mom and dad. Some will end up in my husband's cookie jar and lunch bag. And some will be mailed to Fort Hood, where my son is currently stationed. I hope that you'll enjoy them, too. Oldies but goodies need to be shared. Peanut Blossoms
putting on the kisses 1 3/4 cups flour
1/2 cup sugar
​1/2 cup brown sugar
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup shortening
​1/2 cup peanut butter
2 TBS milk
​1 tsp vanilla
1 egg

​Mix all ingredients in a mixer at low speed until a stiff dough forms. Roll into 1" balls. Roll in sugar and place 2" apart on an ungreased cookie sheet.

​Bake at 375 for 10-12 minutes, or until golden brown. As soon as the cookies come out of the oven press a chocolate candy kiss into its middle, but not so hard as to split the cookie. Remove from cookie sheet and cool on a rack long enough for the kisses to reharden.

An Interview With The Author

Recently a high school student sent me an email requesting an interview. She needed to talk with someone who worked in a field in which she was interested. Here are her questions, and my answers. Let me know if you think I didn't explain the writer's life well enough. I'd love to learn how your answers would vary.

1. What made you decide to become a writer?
I don't think anyone decides to become a writer. Writers are compelled - driven by the stories that keep playing in their heads. They can't help themselves, and if they deny their writing it drives them crazy.
 
I started writing really young, like middle school, but I didn't start taking it seriously until I was a stay at home mom. Writing enabled me to go far, far away without having to hire a sitter.
 
2. I know becoming an author is a tricky job financially when you just get out of school because of getting your name out. Do you think newly graduated writers should work part time as a writer or submerge them self in their work?
 
I don't know anyone who was able to just submerge him or herself in writing. You either have to keep a day job, or find someone who will support you, or perhaps win the lottery. The exceptions to this are people who go into commercial writing, like copy editing, advertising, or journalism.
 
You mentioned an interest in editing, and that's a great way to break into the field, especially if you're willing to move to New York City. These days editors get paid a piddly salary to start out, but they make a lot of contacts and they're close to the big movers and shakers. Many editors write books to fill the "gaps" in their house's line, so they are both editors and writers.
 
3. What kind of experience did you have, or recommend, before going to college?
 
Live fully, travel widely, love deeply. And take lots of pictures to help jolt your memory later. I regret I did little of any of this before going to college.

4. How do you get out of creative blocks?
 
I've never had one. I've always had way more I wanted to write than time to write it in.
 
5. How do you pull yourself out of procrastination?
 
I usually don't. There's usually a reason why I'm not writing, and I respect that and do other things until I'm ready again. The story will start to beat on the inside of my head if I ignore it awhile, and usually when I procrastinate what I'm really doing is other stuff I need to get done (like laundry and weeding) while working out kinks in the plot twists.
 
6. What is your favorite genre to write in and why?
 
I love historical fiction, because I love researching the period and learning what was going on, how people lived, how they thought, and what they wanted. Some human feelings are universal. Others are not. That's always a surprise when I read primary sources.
 
7. Do you think living in New Mexico impacts your writing?
 
New Mexico is a cultural backwater in some respects, but the internet has opened the world up so much that it doesn't matter as much as it used to. And there's so much beauty here and so many untold stories. I think just looking out the window is inspiring.
 
8. Do you expand your creativity from just story book?
 
I'm not sure what you're asking here. Do I do other creative things besides writing? I'm a pretty fair cook, and I sing in the church choir but am not a fine enough talent in either to make a go of it professionally.

9. Are you self employed or do you work under a company?
 
Most writers don't work for companies. They are freelance, and when they've completed a novel (or other kind of book, fiction or nonfiction) they send it to editors of publishing houses and agents. Or, they self publish, which is what I do, because I gathered over 1,000 rejects and finally decided I didn't want to wait anymore and play the game. Getting published is hard. For every 10,000 manuscripts a publishing house gets, they're going to make an offer on one or two.
 
10. Do you see writing more as a serious or a fun job?
I have yet to have a serious job in my life. I won't do it if I can't find the fun in it. That being said, writing is rarely fun. It's hard work. Editing and rewriting is even harder. And getting rejected hurts. Deeply. But if you're meant to be a writer you do it anyway. And while not always fun, it can be thrilling and deeply satisfying.

A Fort With Many Functions

My husband and I with Rocky, one of the historical interpreters at Ft. Bayard As some of you know, my husband, Hank Bohnhoff, is a judge on the New Mexico Court of Appeals, and he has to run for election this year in order to keep his seat on the bench. Part of running for election is getting out and meeting constituents, and so we've been doing a lot of road trips this past year.

Last month we visited the southwestern part of the state, and I had the joy of getting to make a short stop at Fort Bayard. I am always grateful when a trip includes a little history.
The Fort was named for General George D. Bayard, a West Point graduate who had been killed at Fredericksburg. Begun in 1866, the first fort constructed on the site was a collections of tents and crude adobe buildings thrown up by Company B the 125th United States Colored Infantry. Many of the soldiers stationed here were Buffalo Soldiers.  US soldiers were still using the heliograph in 1898, when this photo was taken.  The fort protected settlements in Southern New Mexico from raids by the various Apache tribes who roamed the rugged mountains of the Gila. It was also one of 24 heliograph stations, which relayed messages between forts by means of the sun and a mirror that was used to flash out Morse code signals. Although less technologically advanced, the heliograph system worked better than the newly installed telegraph system, because the Apaches could cut telegraph wires but they could not meddle with the sun. It is of interest that the man charged with establishing the heliograph stations was a young Second Lieutenant named John J. Pershing, who would go on to become the famous Blackjack Pershing. Some of the officer's housing. Once the Indian Wars were over, Fort Bayard became the first military sanatorium for the treatment of tuberculosis. Doctors at the time believed that high elevation, clean air, abundant sunshine and low humidity were all beneficial to the treatment of this disease.  The Fort's population grew during World War I, when soldiers who had suffered from poisonous gas attacks crowded the wards. The nurses' quarters, which housed a matron responsible for the moral well-being of the women who tended the sick and injured, was relocated a distance from the other buildings after many nurses fell in love with patients.

​During WWII, German Prisoners of War lived here, repairing buildings, tending the orchard, and caring for the burial grounds that became a National Cemetery in 1976. The fort continued to serve as a long-term care facility for veterans and civilians alike after it was transferred from Federal to State control in 1965. Finally, in 2010, a more modern medical facility was built just down the road.

​Fort Bayard is set in a beautiful, mountainous setting, with wide, blue skies and big vistas. The buildings are in disrepair but to me, it is a glorious place, filled with historical narratives. It could be the setting for a "wild west" story, a love story between a young gas victim and a nurse, a story of longing for home by a young German POW. The possibilities are endless.
My husband in Fort Bayard's cemetery. We found gravestones from the Spanish American War, World War I and II, Vietnam, and more recent conflicts.