Sphagnum Moss to the Rescue in World War I by Karla Stover

On September 23, 1990, the first episode of Ken Burns' Civil War documentary aired. Thanks, in no small part, to the charismatic Shelby Foote, the documentary's popularity has never waned. However, I have always been fascinated by World War I, and especially the fall of the Romanov dynasty. I recently took a DNA test and it showed I have Russian blood, but more than that, innovations from WW I moved us into a more sophisticated lifestyle. Kimberly-Clarke began to mass produce items made from cellucotton, and sanitary napkins were one result. A German doctor came up with the idea of treating rickets with a sun lamp. Day light savings, which Benjamin Franklin has proposed in 1784 as a way to save on candles. Tea bags, wrist watches, paper hankies, zippers, stainless steel--and the list goes on. But--though cellucotton was also used in medical dressings, the supply was never enough. Enter sphagnum moss. Yes, moss, the stuff that grows on the top of a peat bog. Peat moss is the decaying matter below.

For hundreds of years, uses for sphagnum have been well-known. In Sweden, it was used to make coarse paper; in Germany it was mixed with wool and woven into a somewhat abrasive cloth. The Finns somehow made bread with it during famines. However, no one used it more than the Native Americans. Across Canada and in the Pacific Northwest, Indian women kept baskets of dried sphagnum to chink their wigwams or longhouses. They put it in gloves and footwear to act as insulation; They wove it into  baskets, twisted it into candle wicks, scrubbed the slime and toxins off fish, put it in papoose carriers to act as a diaper, used it as toilet paper, and during menstruation.

And then, the United States went war.

As far back as 1513, at the battle of Flodden Field, highlanders staunched their wounds with sphagnum. The practice continued in various wars right up until the American John "Blackjack" Pershing realized we were ill-equipped to fight. The call went our for practically everything--including medical dressings, and that's where sphagnum came in: it replaced cotton. Let me explain.

The branches of sphagnum spread away from the stem and hang in clusters. The walls of the branches have large, clear, dead cells. The cells have pores, and the wall of each pore is punctures toward the outside. Each pore acts independently from the others and stores the fluids with which it comes in contact. A spring-like coil in the cell presses out and keeps it from collapsing. As a result, the plant has the ability to absorb up to twenty times its dry weight. Armed with this knowledge, the United States government appoint a Moss Czar--a man named Harry Smith. After touring the country, he determined that Pacific Coast moss was the best.

Thus began moss drives.

When a local newspaper announced a "moss drive," whole towns practically shut down. People took picnics, requisitioned vehicles, and headed out to gather moss which they took to large drying barns. Once dry, it went to groups who picked it clean so it could to make Pershing Packs.

A Pershing Pack consisted of layers of paper, moss, and a little cotton. The resultant "piles" were folded into various-sized dressings, sterilized in autoclaves, and sent to field hospitals. Because of moss's ability to soak up fluids, a Pershing Pack worked wonders on bleeding or suppurating wounds.

I always look down when I'm walking, especially in the woods. There are approximately 10,000 species of moss--all lovely to look at.



bwlauthors.blogspot.com karla stover

The Story Behind the Book by June Gadsby

NOVELS BY JUNE GADSBY

WHEN TOMORROW COMES 

Writing a saga can raise many problems for the author. The storyline, for me, is the easiest part of all and drops into my head like a letter in the mail. 

When research comes in to play there are lots of avenues to explore, especially when the story covers a long period of time. It can also take place in more than one area of the world. I like to write what I call ‘two-centre’ stories. They start off in England and move to exotic locations, such as South Africa, Kenya, Sri Lanka, Patagonia, Ecuador and Chile – all places I am lucky enough to have visited. Writing about these places brings back joyful memories of the past and, I feel, give the story some authenticity. I know the places at first hand, know the sights, the sounds and the smells, even though my novels are usually set in the past.

In the case of “When Tomorrow Comes”, this was set mainly around a close-knit family in the north-east of England – the small mining town where I was born. It follows the characters’ lives through WWll, touching briefly on France, which is where I now live. Many of my readers, along with my late literary agent, say that this is my best book – possibly because it is about an ordinary family fighting their own war. The heroine, Hildie, is also my own, personal favourite character.  There are, too, some secondary characters that are inspired by real people in my life. There is, of course, a lot of embroidery added to each one to make them more interesting.

To keep track of all the characters, I went through a magazine and cut out any face that matched my imaginary people. Believe me, it worked. I could now see the ‘cast’ on paper as well as in my head.

The story behind the writing of “When Tomorrow Comes” is interesting. Up until this point my mother had never recognised me as a writer; didn’t like anything I wrote; hated any reference to sex or the use of bad language, even when I explained to her that this was how certain people behaved and spoke. One story I gave her to read – a black comedy of sorts – thinking it would keep her amused while visiting us in France [she got easily bored] was thrown aside to the remark: “I can’t read this. It’s filth!”

Undeterred, I decided to write a story that she would enjoy. While doing the ironing one Sunday, I heard Vera Lynn singing “There’ll be blue birds over the while cliffs of Dover, tomorrow just you wait and see…” I knew instantly that I had found the storyline that would [okay, might] please my mother. I absolutely loved writing this story, but getting it published was not so easy. 

In the end, I printed it out and had a friend bind it for me. I sent it to her and held my breath, fully expecting the usual criticism. I’m delighted to say that she loved it. In 2001 my books started to be published for real, and my mother finally stopped telling people that I had a ‘nice little hobby’ and changed this to “My daughter is an authoress.” We still didn’t have a much craved for mother-daughter bond, but at least I had given her something to be proud of.

The book did eventually get published in hardback, and now, more lately, in paperback and e-book. My mother died in 2009 and the original, personalised version of When Tomorrow Comes found its way back to me and has become one of my ‘treasures’. 

And here it is: