Serpents of War, the memoir of Pennsylvanian Major Harry Dravo Parkin, is a rare account of World War I as seen from the perspective of a battalion commander. As a mid-level officer responsible for the lives and welfare of over a thousand men, Parkin conveys the stress of command at a time when one innocent blunder could cost an officer his combat assignment, brings the inferno of the Meuse-Argonne Offensive to life in terrifying, gory detail, and recounts being taken prisoner by the Imperial German Army—a rare experience among American soldiers in 1918. In addition, Parkin provides a detailed account of the 79th Division’s attack on Mountfaucon, a military action that remains controversial to this day. This is a book by a brave soldier, a recipient of the Distinguished Service Cross for his heroism on the battlefield, and a gifted writer.

Serpents of War is an abridged edition of a nearly 200,000-word World War I memoir that resides in Gettysburg College’s Musselman Library, enhanced by the contributions of two scholars of World War I and memory. Written in an unassuming but eloquent style, Parkin’s narrative seldom strains for effect. It possesses a strong sense of setting, a knack for capturing the chaos and strange exhilaration of battle, and a sharp eye for the interpersonal, social dynamics of military life—the personality clashes and simmering feuds, as well as the moments of comradeship and accord. Serpents of War is an absorbing memoir that holds the reader’s attention from beginning to end.

This work is a detailed study of how Americans in the 1920s and 1930s interpreted and remembered the First World War. Steven Trout asserts that from the beginning American memory of the war was fractured and unsettled, more a matter of competing sets of collective memories—each set with its own spokespeople— than a unified body of myth. The members of the American Legion remembered the war as a time of assimilation and national harmony. However, African Americans and radicalized whites recalled a very different war. And so did many of the nation’s writers, filmmakers, and painters.

Trout studies a wide range of cultural products for their implications concerning the legacy of the war: John Dos Passos’s novels Three Soldiers and 1919, Willa Cather’s One of Ours, William March’s Company K, and Laurence Stallings’s Plumes; paintings by Harvey Dunn, Horace Pippin, and John Steuart Curry; portrayals of the war in The American Legion Weekly and The American Legion Monthly; war memorials and public monuments like the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier; and commemorative products such as the twelve-inch tall Spirit of the American Doughboy statue.

Trout argues that American memory of World War I was not only confused and contradictory during the ‘20s and ‘30s, but confused and contradictory in ways that accommodated affirmative interpretations of modern warfare and military service. Somewhat in the face of conventional wisdom, Trout shows that World War I did not destroy the glamour of war for all, or even most, Americans and enhanced it for many.

Ernest Hemingway’s early adulthood (1917–1929) was marked by his work as a journalist, wartime service, marriage, conflicts with parents, expatriation, artistic struggle, and spectacular success. In War + Ink, veteran and emerging Hemingway scholars, alongside experts in related fields, present pathbreaking research that provides important insights into this period of Hemingway’s life.

Comprised of sixteen elegantly written essays, War + Ink revisits Hemingway’s formative experiences as a cub reporter in Kansas City. It establishes a fresh set of contexts for his Italian adventure in 1918 and his novels and short stories of the 1920s, offers some provocative reflections on his fiction and the issue of truth-telling in war literature, and reexamines his later career in terms of themes, issues, or places tied to his early life. The essays vary in methodology, theoretical assumptions, and scope; what they share is an eagerness to question—and to look beyond—truisms that have long prevailed in Hemingway scholarship.

Highlights include historian Jennifer Keene’s persuasive analysis of Hemingway as a “typical doughboy,” Ellen Andrew Knodt’s unearthing of “Hemingwayesque” language spread throughout the correspondence penned by his World War I contemporaries, Susan Beegel’s account of the 1918 Spanish Flu Pandemic and its previously unrecognized impact on the young Hemingway, Jennifer Haytock’s adroit analysis of “destructive spectatorship” in The Sun Also Rises, Mark Cirino’s groundbreaking discussion of the instantaneous “life review” experienced by Hemingway’s dying characters (an intrusion of the speculative and the fantastic into fiction better known for its hard surfaces and harsh truths), and Matthew Nickel’s detailed interpretation of the significance of Kansas City in Across the River and Into the Trees. A trio of scholars—Celia Kingsbury, William Blazek, and Daryl Palmer—focus on “Soldier’s Home,” offering three very different readings of this quintessential narrative of an American soldier’s homecoming. Finally, Dan Clayton and Thomas G. Bowie reexamine Hemingway’s war stories in light of those told by today’s veterans.

War + Ink offers a cross section of today’s Hemingway scholarship at its best—and reintroduces us to a young Hemingway we only thought we knew.

Serpents of War, the memoir of Pennsylvanian Major Harry Dravo Parkin, is a rare account of World War I as seen from the perspective of a battalion commander. As a mid-level officer responsible for the lives and welfare of over a thousand men, Parkin conveys the stress of command at a time when one innocent blunder could cost an officer his combat assignment, brings the inferno of the Meuse-Argonne Offensive to life in terrifying, gory detail, and recounts being taken prisoner by the Imperial German Army—a rare experience among American soldiers in 1918. In addition, Parkin provides a detailed account of the 79th Division’s attack on Mountfaucon, a military action that remains controversial to this day. This is a book by a brave soldier, a recipient of the Distinguished Service Cross for his heroism on the battlefield, and a gifted writer.

Serpents of War is an abridged edition of a nearly 200,000-word World War I memoir that resides in Gettysburg College’s Musselman Library, enhanced by the contributions of two scholars of World War I and memory. Written in an unassuming but eloquent style, Parkin’s narrative seldom strains for effect. It possesses a strong sense of setting, a knack for capturing the chaos and strange exhilaration of battle, and a sharp eye for the interpersonal, social dynamics of military life—the personality clashes and simmering feuds, as well as the moments of comradeship and accord. Serpents of War is an absorbing memoir that holds the reader’s attention from beginning to end.

This work is a detailed study of how Americans in the 1920s and 1930s interpreted and remembered the First World War. Steven Trout asserts that from the beginning American memory of the war was fractured and unsettled, more a matter of competing sets of collective memories—each set with its own spokespeople— than a unified body of myth. The members of the American Legion remembered the war as a time of assimilation and national harmony. However, African Americans and radicalized whites recalled a very different war. And so did many of the nation’s writers, filmmakers, and painters.

Trout studies a wide range of cultural products for their implications concerning the legacy of the war: John Dos Passos’s novels Three Soldiers and 1919, Willa Cather’s One of Ours, William March’s Company K, and Laurence Stallings’s Plumes; paintings by Harvey Dunn, Horace Pippin, and John Steuart Curry; portrayals of the war in The American Legion Weekly and The American Legion Monthly; war memorials and public monuments like the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier; and commemorative products such as the twelve-inch tall Spirit of the American Doughboy statue.

Trout argues that American memory of World War I was not only confused and contradictory during the ‘20s and ‘30s, but confused and contradictory in ways that accommodated affirmative interpretations of modern warfare and military service. Somewhat in the face of conventional wisdom, Trout shows that World War I did not destroy the glamour of war for all, or even most, Americans and enhanced it for many.

Ernest Hemingway’s early adulthood (1917–1929) was marked by his work as a journalist, wartime service, marriage, conflicts with parents, expatriation, artistic struggle, and spectacular success. In War + Ink, veteran and emerging Hemingway scholars, alongside experts in related fields, present pathbreaking research that provides important insights into this period of Hemingway’s life.

Comprised of sixteen elegantly written essays, War + Ink revisits Hemingway’s formative experiences as a cub reporter in Kansas City. It establishes a fresh set of contexts for his Italian adventure in 1918 and his novels and short stories of the 1920s, offers some provocative reflections on his fiction and the issue of truth-telling in war literature, and reexamines his later career in terms of themes, issues, or places tied to his early life. The essays vary in methodology, theoretical assumptions, and scope; what they share is an eagerness to question—and to look beyond—truisms that have long prevailed in Hemingway scholarship.

Highlights include historian Jennifer Keene’s persuasive analysis of Hemingway as a “typical doughboy,” Ellen Andrew Knodt’s unearthing of “Hemingwayesque” language spread throughout the correspondence penned by his World War I contemporaries, Susan Beegel’s account of the 1918 Spanish Flu Pandemic and its previously unrecognized impact on the young Hemingway, Jennifer Haytock’s adroit analysis of “destructive spectatorship” in The Sun Also Rises, Mark Cirino’s groundbreaking discussion of the instantaneous “life review” experienced by Hemingway’s dying characters (an intrusion of the speculative and the fantastic into fiction better known for its hard surfaces and harsh truths), and Matthew Nickel’s detailed interpretation of the significance of Kansas City in Across the River and Into the Trees. A trio of scholars—Celia Kingsbury, William Blazek, and Daryl Palmer—focus on “Soldier’s Home,” offering three very different readings of this quintessential narrative of an American soldier’s homecoming. Finally, Dan Clayton and Thomas G. Bowie reexamine Hemingway’s war stories in light of those told by today’s veterans.

War + Ink offers a cross section of today’s Hemingway scholarship at its best—and reintroduces us to a young Hemingway we only thought we knew.