A Road Formerly Known as Roman

“What’s that?”

The archaeologist flung an arm out the car window, pointing. I braked. Tires scraped the gravel in the road that runs from the west Crete village of Rodopos to Menies Valley on Rodopou Peninsula.

“Where?”

She pointed just behind. “Back there.”

I reversed the gear and backed slowly.

“I see three big rocks,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s go look!”

Her enthusiasm was all the prompting I needed. I pulled the parking brake, and we jumped out. Midday summer sun beat down on the car in the middle of the road as well as on our heads. A north wind cooled the skin and brought the scent of thyme from across the Cretan maquis. A chorus of chirping cicadas thrummed to a steady beat.

We were here to see exposed parts of what I used to call the Roman road on Rodopou. A milestone was unearthed near Rodopos village at the beginning of the 20th century. Dated 129-132 AD, it bares an inscription in Latin. From a translation, we know the ancient road was eleven (Roman) miles long and “built or rebuilt” by the emperor Hadrian, who also receives credit for rebuilding the temple at the end of the road in Menies Valley on the peninsula’s northeast coast.

Straight rows of stonesAfter nineteen hundred years, the ancient road looks like a jumble of rocks. I always look for stones in a straight row that line the edge or middle of the road. In this photo are two such rows.

Yours truly spent a large portion of the previous summer traversing the peninsula, finding bits of the ancient road, discovering its path through the crags of crystalline limestone. Because, as I often say, “You gotta have a hobby.”

When I mention the road, many local archaeologists dismiss the topic. Roman—which is to say, the former empire dating from 69 BC to 380 AD on the island—isn’t old enough. Much richer fields for Roman-era sites lie elsewhere. Archaeologists come to Crete to study Minoan sites, which are from 3000 to 5000 years old.

We began the day from the village square at Rodopos, where the milestone now stands. We drove along the modern road, which was graded gravel, full of holes and washed out gullies. At several points, we stopped the car to walk on flat paving stones in mosaic patterns, bordered by straight rows of edge stones, all laid in centuries—or millennia—past.

Whenever her feet touched ground, the archaeologist, whose name was Jenny, scanned the ground before her. During our walks, she showed me flakes of obsidian (not found naturally on the island, therefore imported) and smooth stones that fit in a cupped palm (tools for grinding grain or sharpening blades) and bits of terra-cotta pottery.

From the shape of a potsherd, Jenny could tell whether it was from a pot’s base or neck. From the curve, she could tell its circumference; from marks on the inside, whether the pot was turned on a wheel or shaped from kneaded clay. From the coarseness, she could tell the era in which it was made.

Now we scrambled up a steep embankment. Jenny, shod in ankle boots, went to the right across a precarious slope. I, in sandals, went to the left, up a gentler slope to come around to the sighted rocks from above. I grabbed the sturdy branch of a lentisk shrub to pull myself up. My eyes passed a rounded shape in the earth, terra-cotta in color. Its perfect curve peeked between gnarly roots.

I hurried over to where Jenny surveyed a straight row of large, gray stones, roughly cubicle. At the row’s end, another stone lay at a right angle to it.

“This wall goes through here,” she said, indicating a mound covered in brush, “and up that hill.”

Another stone, similar to the others, clung to the slope.

“A building of some kind?” I said.

“You see the size of the stones. If a stone is heavier than what two men can carry, it’s probably ancient.”

I didn’t see how enough men could even get around one of those stones to carry it.

“Ancient? You mean Roman?”

“Or earlier. It’s hard to say. If we could find some pottery, we might be able to narrow down the period.”

“I saw something interesting on the way over here.”

Jenny’s eyes lit up, and I started back the way I came.

On the slope beneath the shrub again, I stood on a flat rock at the edge of the precipice. I pulled a camera from my pocket and took a photograph of the object. I hoped I wasn’t taking a picture of a nicely shaped dirt clod in situ. Then I picked it from crumbling dirt. The curve was as long as a hand. Three edges were jagged. The unbroken edge, rounded and smooth. Even an amateur eye could discern the lip of a jar or a vase. I handed it to Jenny.

Examining the potsherd, she pointed with a pinkie. “The coarse, white fragments tell us it’s Minoan. And you’re standing on a threshold stone.”

I looked at my feet. The flat rock was a long rectangle, the top smooth. The middle was indented, worn by years of passage.

Jenny said, “There, more potsherds.”

I followed her eyes just up the slope. The ground was encrusted with them, like fish scales.

As we made our way back down the slope, Jenny pointed out more potsherd-strewn patches. From one such patch, she lifted a small, oblong piece, blunt on one end, capped with a flat piece on the other.

She held it between thumb and forefinger. “This is one foot of a cooking pot.”

I had seen the three-footed pots in museums. They had handles on two sides and a cover.

“People lived here,” she said. “The stone walls we saw could have been a farm house or a villa. Because the ancient road passes so close, it was probably here long before the Romans.”

Now I just call it the Rodopou Road.

Potsherd foundPotsherd found near the ancient road.
“The coarse, white fragments tell us it’s Minoan.”

Continue ReadingA Road Formerly Known as Roman

AVMP in the Library at The Friends of Vauquois

I had a message from Alain Jeannesson, president of Les Amis de Vauquois et de sa région, to whom I sent a copy of A Very Muddy Place. Mr. Jeannesson informs me that the book takes its place in the association’s library and is to be accompanied by a summary in French.

Association of the Friends of Vauquois and its Region. “Mound of Vauquois.” http://butte-vauquois.fr/en/.
The website of the Association of the Friends of Vauquois and its Region has photos and information on visiting the site. The guided tour of the underground galleries, where the mine war took place, is enlightening, educational, and horrific.

—from the bibliography of A Very Muddy Place: War Stories

 

A Very Muddy Place
Buy on Bookshop

All book sales made through Bookshop directly benefit independent bookstores.

Also available at these retailers.

A Very Muddy Place
WAR STORIES

An intimate account of a soldier’s experience in World War I, A Very Muddy Place takes us on a journey from a young man’s rural American hometown onto one of the great battlefields of France. We follow Private B. F. Potts with the 137th US Infantry Regiment through the first days of the Meuse-Argonne Offensive. We discover a personal story—touching, emotional, unforgettable.

In 1918, twenty-three-year-old Bennie Potts was drafted into the US Army to fight in the World War. He served with the American Expeditionary Force in France. At home after the war, he married and raised a family, and the war for his children and grandchildren became the anecdotes he told them.

A century later, a great grandson brings together his ancestor’s war stories and the historical record to follow Private Benjamin Franklin Potts from Tennessee to the Great War in France and back home again.

Available in hardcover, paperback, and e-book.

More about A Very Muddy Place

 

Disclosure: This page and linked pages contain affiliate links to Bookshop, Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo. As an affiliate of those retailers, Stephen earns a commission when you click through and make a purchase. Thank you for your support.

 

Continue ReadingAVMP in the Library at The Friends of Vauquois

Another Stretch of Road

Slanting afternoon light showed me a field of rocks. Erosion on the crystalline limestone that covers the peninsula makes formations of standing stones, legions of trolls caught in sunshine marching across the landscape. But these rocks looked different. Curious, I stopped the car to have a look.

Crystalline limestone, yes, but these were hewn into rough rectangular shapes, laid in a mosaic pattern, and bordered by straight rows of same. Nineteen hundred years of wind and winter rain set them in jagged profile. Two paces (about three meters) from edge row to edge row confirms another stretch, this one 150 meters long, of the Roman road on Rodopou.

Tell me when I’ve had enough. I love it out here!

150 meters of the Roman road on Rodopou

Continue ReadingAnother Stretch of Road

Praise for A Very Muddy Place: War Stories

 

“A VERY MUDDY PLACE is one of the most fascinating books I’ve read about the humble soldier’s point of view. It focuses on the experiences of the author’s great grandfather, Benjamin Franklin Potts, who fought with the American Expeditionary Force in France during World War I. The book is a vivid and deft mingling of anecdotes, history, and dramatic fiction, enriched with historic photographs, documents, and detailed maps. This is a captivating and historically important work. I highly recommend it!”

—Douglas Preston, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Lost City of the Monkey God: A True Story

 

“Far too many histories of the First World War languish in private letters and forgotten family records. In A VERY MUDDY PLACE, Stephen Wendell constructs a narrative with his great grandfather’s stories to open a window on the horrors of that distant war. Using primary source material, he brings the Great War to life in the person of Benjamin Franklin Potts. This book is a delight, an insightful combination of historical narrative and fictional recreation, and we are better for it.”

—Steve Ruskin, PhD History, author of America’s First Great Eclipse

 

“Stephen Wendell crafts a poignant, stirring, and ultimately remarkable account of his ancestor’s service in the Great War. His attention to detail and depth of research is commendable. Interspersed with personal anecdotes and a keen sense of empathy, A VERY MUDDY PLACE is a unique, triumphant work of the highest merit and a tribute unlike anything I’ve ever read.”

—LTC Kevin Ikenberry, USA, Ret., author of The Protocol War series

 

A Very Muddy Place
Buy on Bookshop

All book sales made through Bookshop directly benefit independent bookstores.

Also available at these retailers.

A Very Muddy Place
WAR STORIES

An intimate account of a soldier’s experience in World War I, A Very Muddy Place takes us on a journey from a young man’s rural American hometown onto one of the great battlefields of France. We follow Private B. F. Potts with the 137th US Infantry Regiment through the first days of the Meuse-Argonne Offensive. We discover a personal story—touching, emotional, unforgettable.

In 1918, twenty-three-year-old Bennie Potts was drafted into the US Army to fight in the World War. He served with the American Expeditionary Force in France. At home after the war, he married and raised a family, and the war for his children and grandchildren became the anecdotes he told them.

A century later, a great grandson brings together his ancestor’s war stories and the historical record to follow Private Benjamin Franklin Potts from Tennessee to the Great War in France and back home again.

Available in hardcover, paperback, and e-book.

More about A Very Muddy Place

 

Disclosure: This page and linked pages contain affiliate links to Bookshop, Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo. As an affiliate of those retailers, Stephen earns a commission when you click through and make a purchase. Thank you for your support.

 

Continue ReadingPraise for A Very Muddy Place: War Stories

A Very Muddy Place: War Stories—Now Available

 

A Very Muddy Place
Buy on Bookshop

All book sales made through Bookshop directly benefit independent bookstores.

Also available at these retailers.

A Very Muddy Place
WAR STORIES

An intimate account of a soldier’s experience in World War I, A Very Muddy Place takes us on a journey from a young man’s rural American hometown onto one of the great battlefields of France. We follow Private B. F. Potts with the 137th US Infantry Regiment through the first days of the Meuse-Argonne Offensive. We discover a personal story—touching, emotional, unforgettable.

In 1918, twenty-three-year-old Bennie Potts was drafted into the US Army to fight in the World War. He served with the American Expeditionary Force in France. At home after the war, he married and raised a family, and the war for his children and grandchildren became the anecdotes he told them.

A century later, a great grandson brings together his ancestor’s war stories and the historical record to follow Private Benjamin Franklin Potts from Tennessee to the Great War in France and back home again.

Available in hardcover, paperback, and e-book.

More about A Very Muddy Place

 

Disclosure: This page and linked pages contain affiliate links to Bookshop, Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo. As an affiliate of those retailers, Stephen earns a commission when you click through and make a purchase. Thank you for your support.

 

Continue ReadingA Very Muddy Place: War Stories—Now Available

A Happy Day in France

It was a happy day in France. April 12, 1919, the 137th Infantry Regiment waved goodbye to the country B. F. Potts later described as “a very muddy place.”

A morning march, loaded with all their gear, took them to the docks [at Brest]. From there, they were conveyed by light boats to a transport ship anchored a mile out in the bay. France, as its final farewell, drizzled rain on them.

—from A Very Muddy Place: War Stories

Now, a century later, you can follow Private Benjamin Franklin Potts from Tennessee to the Great War in France and back home again.

 

A Very Muddy Place
Buy on Bookshop

All book sales made through Bookshop directly benefit independent bookstores.

Also available at these retailers.

A Very Muddy Place
WAR STORIES

An intimate account of a soldier’s experience in World War I, A Very Muddy Place takes us on a journey from a young man’s rural American hometown onto one of the great battlefields of France. We follow Private B. F. Potts with the 137th US Infantry Regiment through the first days of the Meuse-Argonne Offensive. We discover a personal story—touching, emotional, unforgettable.

In 1918, twenty-three-year-old Bennie Potts was drafted into the US Army to fight in the World War. He served with the American Expeditionary Force in France. At home after the war, he married and raised a family, and the war for his children and grandchildren became the anecdotes he told them.

A century later, a great grandson brings together his ancestor’s war stories and the historical record to follow Private Benjamin Franklin Potts from Tennessee to the Great War in France and back home again.

Available in hardcover, paperback, and e-book.

More about A Very Muddy Place

 

Disclosure: This page and linked pages contain affiliate links to Bookshop, Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo. As an affiliate of those retailers, Stephen earns a commission when you click through and make a purchase. Thank you for your support.

 

Continue ReadingA Happy Day in France

A Very Muddy Place Coming in April

I am pleased to announce A Very Muddy Place: War Stories will be released in April.

May through November last year I wrote the story of my great grandfather in World War I. Over the winter I edited the three dozen articles into a 153-page book and wrapped it up in a paperback cover. To the reader to judge its success.

 

A Very Muddy Place

 

In 1918, twenty-three-year-old Bennie Potts was drafted into the US Army to fight in the World War. He served with the American Expeditionary Force in France. At home after the war, he married and raised a family, and the war for his children and grandchildren became the anecdotes he told them.

A century later, a great grandson brings together his ancestor’s war stories and the historical record to follow Private Benjamin Franklin Potts from Tennessee to the Great War in France and back home again.

A Very Muddy Place
WAR STORIES
 
April 2019

Continue ReadingA Very Muddy Place Coming in April

A Very Muddy Place in Print

Tomorrow, the 100th anniversary of the Armistice, we’ll relive a big moment with Private Potts in A Very Muddy Place.

Today, I assembled the twenty-six articles of the series into a single document. At 17,000 words, the 80-page manuscript should make a print book of something over a hundred pages.

 


A Very Muddy Place

My great grandfather, like many veterans, didn’t talk much about his wartime experience. His family has only his discharge paper and a few anecdotes.

One hundred years later, I’ve discovered a few documents that bear his name. From draft registration to discharge, I’m following the paper trail of B. F. Potts’s journey to the battlefields of the Great War in France and back home again.

Continue ReadingA Very Muddy Place in Print

An Unremarkable Day

Nowhere in my research did I find that anything worth noting happened in the life of Benjamin Franklin Potts on this day a hundred years ago. He was in the Sommedieue sector, south of Verdun, in the trenches with the 35th Division. Haterius reports a few engagements during the week, involving other companies of the 137th Infantry Regiment, but Company M seems to have had an uneventful tour.

Between rotations in the trenches, the men read the international newspapers, where they learned that the Central Powers were showing signs of collapse. In previous weeks, Bulgaria had signed an armistice. The Ottoman Empire, without Bulgaria on its flank, was vulnerable to invasion, and ruler, Grand Vizier Talaat Pasha, had resigned with his entire ministry. The German army was retreating before the Allied advance on the Western Front, and talk among the troops was of an end to the war, of peace, of going home.

October 26, 1918, is now significant only because fifty years later, one of Ben’s granddaughters would add to his legacy of great grandsons. And fifty years after that, the great grandson would write that nothing worth noting happened in the life of his great grandfather a hundred years before.

We might guess that Private Potts on that day, like his sixth great grandson today, was thankful to have another day behind him, in which his life was not threatened, and another day before him, in which everything is possible.

 

Benjamin Franklin Potts 1946Benjamin Franklin Potts
at 52 in 1946

Stephen Michael Wendell 2018Stephen Michael Wendell
at 50 in 2018

 


A Very Muddy Place

My great grandfather, like many veterans, didn’t talk much about his wartime experience. His family has only his discharge paper and a few anecdotes.

One hundred years later, I’ve discovered a few documents that bear his name. From draft registration to discharge, I’m following the paper trail of B. F. Potts’s journey to the battlefields of the Great War in France and back home again.

Continue ReadingAn Unremarkable Day

Denouement

Today’s is the last of my great grandfather’s war stories. The rest—the Armistice, his return trip, and homecoming—is denouement (articles forthcoming). I appreciate all of you who have commented on social media and sent private messages and emails. Your encouragement is invaluable to me. Among other things, it gives me hope that the text may hold interest to readers outside Ben Potts’s family.

When I set out on this journey in May, I thought it would be easy: recite the anecdotes, give a little context, throw in some ambiance… As I got deeper into the research, though, I discovered more than I bargained for. There’s a lot of history in those six months of 1918, and in that short time, there are only so many occasions that certain of the anecdotes could have taken place. That I could narrow down the times and places of most of the stories to within a few likely days of Ben Potts’s journey has been a tremendous reward.

I wish I could sit down with Grandpa and show him my notes. With what I’ve learned, I’m sure I could jog his memory and get a few more stories out of him. You’d all be invited, of course. Granny would make another pitcher of iced tea.

Benjamin Franklin Potts
Benjamin Franklin Potts reverse


A Very Muddy Place

My great grandfather, like many veterans, didn’t talk much about his wartime experience. His family has only his discharge paper and a few anecdotes.

One hundred years later, I’ve discovered a few documents that bear his name. From draft registration to discharge, I’m following the paper trail of B. F. Potts’s journey to the battlefields of the Great War in France and back home again.

Previous articles:

The Butte of Vauquois

“Well, Daddy, what did you think about France?”
“It’s a very muddy place.”

Benjamin Franklin Potts Registers for the Draft

As the Great War thundered across the fields of northern France, ten million American men, ages 21 to 30, signed their names to register to be drafted into military service.

Military Induction and Entrainment

“I, Benjamin Franklin Potts, do solemnly swear to bear true allegiance to the United States of America, and to serve them honestly and faithfully, against all their enemies or opposers whatsoever…”

Army Training at Camp Gordon

“If it moves, salute it. If it doesn’t move, paint it!”

Embarkation, the Tunisian, and the Bridge of Ships

In his first ocean voyage, B. F. Potts crossed the submarine invested waters of the North Atlantic in a convoy of steamers escorted by a warship.

Enterprise, Tennessee: The Town That Died

Grandpa owned matched pairs of horses. Him and the boys [Ben and his brothers] cut and snaked logs out of the wood to the roads. He got a dollar a day plus fifty cents for the horses.

Rendezvous with the 35th Infantry Division

“Some of the guys disobeyed orders, went into the town, broke into a bakery, and stole all the bread and baked goods…”

In Reserve at Saint-Mihiel

The battle of Saint-Mihiel (September 12-15) would be Pershing’s first operation as army commander. He assigned the 35th to the strategic reserve, whose purpose is to replace a weakened unit or to fill any gap in the line created by the enemy.

Special Job for Private Potts

“Private Potts, how tall are you?”

The soldier, looking into a button of the captain’s coat, says, “Five foot three, sir.” The wide brim raises.

A Potts Family Day of Thanks

On the front now, the 35th was in range of artillery fire, and enemy planes made nighttime bombing raids over the countryside.

Planning the Meuse-Argonne Offensive

On the left, the 137th would take the “V of Vauquois,” a formidable network of trenches, zig-zagging from the hill’s west flank to the village of Boureuilles, a mile away.

Prelude to Battle

The gun jumps, the earth shudders, a shock wave shatters the air and accompanies a roar that bursts between the ears. Powder fumes permeate the air. Explosions count seconds across unending darkness.

Taking Vauquois

…up until 7:40 a.m. when the rolling barrage ceased, we can follow Private Potts’s movement across the battlefield.

The Fog of War

Scrawling in a notepad, the commander tears the sheet, folds it, and thrusts it into the runner’s hands.

“Potts, take this message to brigade. Tell them we need artillery now. Go!”

Night Attack

“Let him lie in an artillery shower all night, if you must. But do not disturb a soldier’s sleep, sir, with your orders that change from one minute to the next!”

Montrebeau Wood

By morning’s end, the intermingled 137th and 139th regiments gained 500 meters and dug in before Montrebeau Wood. Through the woods and German machine-gun nests and sniper fire, the men fought in the afternoon.

Encounter at Creek’s Edge

“When I asked him [Grandpa Ben] if he killed anyone, this is what he told me…”

Charge to Exermont

As the men would destroy one machine-gun nest, other enemy gun crews were setting up on both sides of their skirmish line.

Clyde Brake Boards the Leviathan

In the morning of April 6, 1917, the day the US declared war on the German Empire, American army troops seized the Vaterlund at its mooring in the Hoboken harbor.

The Engineers’ Line

When the digging was done, they dropped into the trenches, exchanged shovels for rifles, and pointed them north.

Relieved

At 3 a.m., October 1, the 35th Infantry was the fourth of Pershing’s nine front-line divisions to be relieved from the front.

Roy Albert Buried Alive!

“…he was near the spot where a shell landed and was buried under dirt.”

Permission for Leave

“Ben had been told that his brother, Roy, had died. Then he ran into someone who said, I just saw your brother over at so-and-so medical. So he went to get a pass…”

Upcoming dates:

October 26—An Unremarkable Day

November 11—The Armistice

April 23—Return Aboard the Manchuria

May 13—Homecoming

Continue ReadingDenouement