When the war became personal

The world never seems to run out of reasons to wage war. The centenary of the First World War hasn’t seen any diminishment in friction, with ideological, ethnic and culture conflicts taking the concept of warfare into new and insidious areas. Sarita Mandanna’s latest novel, Good Hope Road, is a retrospective novel that examines the fallout of the First World War on the personal and political level by telling the stories of the largely unsung World War One American veterans.

The heroic, if grim, British soldiering experience is well documented and even romanticised in literature, films and TV series, yet their allies on the other side of the Atlantic, have not been singled out for such treatment. For one thing, of course, British GIs went into a war that was already in their backyard and national opinion was firmly behind them.

American volunteers were part of a national debate on whether America needed to involve itself in what appeared to be a Euro-centric war to begin with. Mandanna’s novel feelingly reimagines the active blood and guts version of the war, foregrounding the Yankee James Stonebridge’s and Louisiana native Obadiah Nelson’s narratives as they serve in France in 1914 as part of the French Foreign Legion. It intersperses these battle scenes with the lives of the two volunteers going back and forth in time to show the homes they left behind and the welcome they returned home to. A third major thread that runs through the novel is the life of Jim Stonebridge, James’ son, who is obviously, if indirectly, affected by his father’s war experiences.

Jim is a man of few words, an apple farmer, native to his beloved Vermont, and he goes on to fall in love with, woo and marry a “flatlander”, a girl named Madeline Scott who he dismisses initially as “ one of those who come from Boston to holiday in hill country with their rich-boy toys.” She soon moves into the quiet if tense household composed of James, recovering from his post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), the amiable housekeeper, and Jim. A massive, black, oval mirror hangs over the mantel and watches over all three of them in a nod to symbolism.

Naturally, once the story enters Depression-era America, the atmosphere is further darkened by the tightening financial climate which puts the screws on both farmer and government, with widespread debt, unemployment and general pessimism. The novel describes how America’s experience of the First World War being what it was, soldiers who returned with injuries, disabilities, or PTSD, had to make their way amongst people for whom life had gone on much the same as usual without any great rationing or loss.

There is enough indication of America’s aloofness when the story moves forward another few decades and the Second World War looms. Once again, the debate is reopened on the necessity of ordinary Americans throwing their hats into the ring. It is well captured in the manner in which Jim struggles with the decision — on one hand he is exempt on account of being an essential farm worker, and because he has a growing family, but on the other hand he has his own views to sort out on where his duty lies.

The political becomes personal soon enough, even before the hint of World War Two. The government reneges on the “Bonus Bills” promised as recompense to the war veterans. The veteran community flares up in protest. James is no longer content with writing ranting letters to the editor. Instead he joins the long chain of humanity as veterans from across the country gather what support they can from friends and neighbours in the form of food or tobacco or encouragement and march towards Washington.

The aptly titled “Death March” took place in 1932, the veterans ending up in “junk-pile veteran camps,” while they waited for the Senate to take action on the Bonus Bill. Their right to protest was taken away when the troops were called in and the veterans scattered. The author infuses irony noting that even as the American President-elect Franklin D. Roosevelt promised a “New Deal” to the country, and celebrated his 51st birthday with a grand party, Adolf Hitler was appointed the new Chancellor of Germany on that day.

The story of Jim’s relationship with his wife is a breath of fresh air that runs through the novel. Mandanna’s hold on lyrical prose brings out the all-encompassing nature of romantic love:

“After that morning, he thought of her (hair). That rich red colour. Suddenly, it was everywhere. In the roan of a cow, in the threads unravelling from the velvet of his father’s smoking jacket. In a portrait on a wall, a past Mrs Stonebridge wearing something red and sparkling about her throat In the apples that lay fallen around the oldest tree in the orchard, arcs and moons or red on snow-patch ground.”

The love story of Jim and Madeline ties up again the way war is not just fought in the battlefields but in the homes and hearths and hearts of the people who live through it. Without loading on the period details with an eye to voyeuristic indulgence, Mandanna’s book stands for more than just a historical account of American war veterans. It is just as much about family, friendship, fatherhood and love, essential relationships that survived, albeit taking a battering after coming through the war that was supposed to end all wars. Karishma Attari is the author of I See You, a horror novel due to be published by Penguin in September. She is founder of the Shakespeare for Dummies workshops series.