Month: September 2026

Flo Awarded the Bronze Star

The Military’s Recognition vs. Red Cross Restrictions

My Mother and Audie Murphy Chapter 123

The U.S. Army recognized Florence Wick’s service with multiple military honors, but the American Red Cross (ARC) severely restricted her ability to display them. Flo received the Presidential Citation Ribbon with four bronze battle stars for service in the European Theater, the fourragère (a French military decoration awarded to units that distinguished themselves in combat), and the Bronze Star. Despite these honors, the ARC forbade her from wearing most of them, a policy that reflected institutional tensions over the women’s status and role.

Why the ARC Prohibited Display of Military Awards

The ARC’s restrictions stemmed from a deliberate strategy to maintain the appearance that these women were noncombatants, even though their actual service contradicted this designation. After VE Day, clubmobilers who had served at least 30 days in designated battle zones became eligible for battle stars—the same recognition offered to military personnel. The Army awarded these women five battle stars to wear on their European Theater of Operations ribbons.

Sept 21, 1946 in Washington DC wearing the bronze star

The ARC’s response was to prohibit the women from wearing Army-issued battle stars and instead issued meaningless silver stars as a substitute. This move served two purposes: it denied the women public recognition of their actual combat-zone service, and it reinforced the Red Cross’s institutional need to classify these women as civilians rather than military personnel. Allowing the women to wear military decorations might have jeopardized the very arrangement that permitted them to work so close to the fighting front.

Evidence of Military Support

Not all Army officials agreed with the ARC’s restrictions. Colonel L.C. McGarr, who served as Assistant Division Commander, wrote to Flo expressing his support. In his correspondence, he stated: “I hope you get that bronze star—it was my last official act as Asst Div C.G. You gals deserve it first of all in my books.” This correspondence suggests that Army leadership recognized and valued the contributions of the clubmobilers, even as the Red Cross worked to minimize their visibility and official status.

Citation signed by President Harry Truman

The Casualty Record: Evidence of Actual Combat Risk

The casualty statistics reveal how close these women truly came to combat. The American Red Cross lost 280 personnel across World Wars I and II out of 51,600 serving—a rate of 5 deaths per 1,000 serving. This compares to approximately 3 deaths per 1,000 for the entire U.S. armed forces.

During World War II specifically, the ARC lost 86 personnel, and 52 of them (60%) were women. These women experienced higher casualty rates than male ARC workers because they spent significantly more time close to and on the fighting front. This casualty record provided irrefutable evidence that clubmobilers like Flo were exposed to genuine combat danger—contradicting the ARC’s classification of them as noncombatants.

Broader Implications for Female Veterans

Flo’s experience reflected a larger institutional failure to recognize women’s wartime service. Post-war initiatives like the GI Bill were overwhelmingly directed toward male veterans, despite women technically being eligible. Female veterans were rarely informed of their eligibility for education and training benefits during discharge, while male veterans received systematic outreach. Noncombatants like the clubmobilers received no GI Bill benefits at all, further marginalizing their contributions and limiting their post-war opportunities.

The ARC’s suppression of military awards was not simply bureaucratic oversight—it was a deliberate institutional choice that denied these women recognition for service that exceeded the danger levels of many official military personnel.

Thanks to: “After all, who takes care of the Red Cross’s morale?”: The Experiences of American Red Cross Clubmobile Women during World War II, A Thesis by Paige N. Gulley

“Girls” in Name Only: A Study of American Red Cross Volunteers on the Frontlines of World War II, A thesis by Julia A. Ramsey

Celebrating the Autumn Equinox

Santa Rosa’s Own Harvest Festival at Bayer Farm

Some of the harvest of the 93 individual garden plots at Bayer Farm

My Regular Pagan Holiday Post

As the northern hemisphere tilts away from the sun this September, the autumn equinox arrives to signal a timeless transition. For centuries, cultures across the north have marked this shift with harvest festivals, and in Santa Rosa, this tradition finds a vibrant, modern home in the Festival de la Cosecha. Celebrating its 19th year, the festival is more than just a seasonal gathering; it is a living testament to the persistence of local environmentalists and land-planning activists who fought to ensure that nature and community could thrive amidst urban growth.

Mon Petit Chou

The heart of the celebration is Bayer Farm, a five-acre city park that stands as a victory of equitable urban planning. For a century, the surrounding Roseland neighborhood existed as an unincorporated pocket, an island of mostly Latinx working-class residents surrounded by the city. Historical records suggest that Santa Rosa’s ruling elite and political machine hesitated to annex the area, fearing that incorporating Roseland would introduce a wave of new voters who might shift the municipal balance of power. Consequently, the residents of Roseland were denied the basic infrastructure—sewers, fire protection, and parks—that the rest of the city enjoyed.

Making salsa

The creation of Bayer Farm broke this cycle of neglect. Born from a unique partnership between the City of Santa Rosa, LandPaths, and the Sonoma County Agricultural Preservation and Open Space District (Ag + Open Space), the farm embodies a vision of healing and equitable access to nature. It provides a sanctuary of greenery and cultural celebration right in the heart of a neighborhood that was long overlooked.

The entrance to the farm

The existence of this sanctuary is rooted in a legacy of activism. In 1990, citizens voted to establish Ag + Open Space to combat unchecked urban sprawl and protect the region’s rural identity. Through a strategic blend of grants, conservation easements, and a quarter-cent sales tax, the District works with landowners to keep the land undeveloped. This effort has permanently protected over 127,000 acres of forests, oak woodlands, working ranches, and critical waterways. By shifting the region away from a path of development and toward a model of sustainable coexistence, these activists created the very landscapes that we local residents now hike and cherish daily.

Crushing grapes the old fashioned way

Complementing this preservation is the work of LandPaths, an organization that has spent 30 years fostering a love of the land. By managing Bayer Farm and leading creative outings in both English and Spanish, LandPaths ensures that nature’s inspiration is accessible to everyone, regardless of their background. Through nature camps and community-led stewardship, they turn the act of conservation into a shared community experience.

Pomo dancers performing in the meadow

On September 26, from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m., the Festival de la Cosecha brings this history to life. The air fills with the sounds of the Sonoma County Pomo Dancers and Danza Xantotl, while visitors engage in herbal medicine workshops, cooking demonstrations, and spirited salsa competitions. Between browsing community booths and picking out pumpkins and fresh vegetables, guests gather to recognize the land and the stewards—past and present—who fought to save it. In the laughter and abundance of the festival, Santa Rosa celebrates not just the harvest of the earth, but the harvest of a long-term commitment to justice, ecology, and community.

Bayer Farm is located on the ancestral homeland of the Southern Pomo people.

The Men She Left Behind

Flo stays in touch with soldiers in occupied Germany

My Mother and Audie Murphy Chapter 122

In the spring of 1946, Flo had made it back home, but she remained connected to her friends in occupied Germany. One of them was a family friend from her hometown of Yakima, Major Dan Wickersham. In her album she posted a biographical sketch of him along with some pictures of others who stayed in the occupied zone. 

According to the sketch, “Major Wickersham has been with the Third Division longer than any other officer now present, and he has some definite ideas about how the peace should be kept.

“The public cry of ‘send my boy home to me’ is so depleting the Occupation Forces that we will soon be hard pressed to carry out all the projects required to adequately secure and maintain the Army of Occupation,” the major says.

“A victory that cost so much must be adequately protected. However, I have complete confidence that the Occupation will be successful and with new replacements that will begin to come from the States in December, effective strength will be assured.

“The future? Well, I love the Army and have given it six of the best years of my life, but at times my wife and that apple orchard in Yakima, Washington, look mighty good to me.”

The American Occupation Force remained in Germany for a decade, until 1955. I don’t know when Maj. Wickersham was able to return to Yakima. In the meantime, Flo commiserated (and fished) with his wife, also named Florence.

The Flos–Wick and Wickersham

The first anniversary of the Southern France invasion was August 15, 1946.

Comrades in the Occupied Zone sent pictures

Col. John A. Heintges (Flo’s 1945 Xmas date who later became a general) and Lt. Col. Ralph Flynn, 7th Infantry Regiment (L), Lt. Leland Nelson, whose parents Flo visited in Walla Walla WA (R)

Regimental staff, 30th Infantry

Col. Lionel G. McGarr, Reg. commander 30th Infantry at a funeral in Paris

2nd Lt. E.P. Homola

Chapter 123: https://mollymartin.blog/2026/09/21/flo-awarded-the-bronze-star/

Why Did the Cagneys Dump Murphy?

Bravery on the Battlefield Doesn’t Make an Actor

My Mother and Audie Murphy Chapter 121

In July 1946, James Cagney spotted the face of war hero Audie Murphy on the cover of Life magazine. To Cagney and his brother William, who ran their own production company, the twenty-year-old was a striking find—a “cute” kid with the kind of look that sells tickets. They signed him, brought him to Hollywood, and installed him in James’s guest house.

The arrangement was fraught from the start. One stormy night, Cagney went to check on Murphy, who was battling chronic nightmares. In a flash of combat-reflex, Murphy pulled a loaded Luger on Cagney. James managed to talk him down, but the encounter served as a visceral reminder that Murphy had brought the war home with him.

James Cagney. Photo: Creative Commons Public Domain

Despite the Cagneys’ efforts to school him in acting and dancing, Murphy never landed a role in their films. By 1947, he was released from his contract, reportedly following a disagreement with William Cagney.

Speculation regarding their fallout persists. Some argue Murphy simply lacked the craft; indeed, Murphy once admitted, “I’m working under a great handicap… no talent.” For Cagney, a devotee of the actor’s art, this was the crux of the issue. He maintained a sacred line between heroism and performance. “The man’s a hero,” Cagney once remarked, “but being brave on the battlefield doesn’t make you a master of the stage or screen.”

Cagney believed true acting required a soul-deep emotional truth that medals could not buy. He viewed the industry’s trend of casting “manufactured stars” as a betrayal of the profession. In private, he was blunter, noting that Murphy’s delivery sounded rehearsed and lacked authenticity. This wasn’t born of animosity—Cagney deeply respected Murphy’s service, admitting he could never match the soldier’s courage in Europe—but of a principled fury. He loathed that Hollywood was trading artistry for easy profit, using fame as a substitute for talent.

This divide represented two different Americas: one celebrating the patriotic icon, the other defending the sanctity of art. Their unspoken friction became a commentary on a timeless Hollywood dilemma: is stardom earned through craft or bestowed through fame?

While they maintained a distant acquaintance after the contract ended, Cagney recognized that Murphy had never truly left the war behind; he simply treated every role as a new battlefield. Behind the angelic face lived a ticking time bomb. Some theorists suggest the Cagneys eventually let him go simply out of fear—a theory that requires little explanation. Ultimately, Cagney likely intended to protect and mentor Murphy, but found the task of bridging the gap between a soldier’s trauma and an actor’s truth to be overwhelming.

Chapter 122: https://mollymartin.blog/2026/09/10/still-in-the-occupied-zone/

Strangers in a Strange Land

Nipples and Studs and Limberdicks and Cocks

We imagine ourselves to be space travelers landing on a populated planet. We encounter living organisms with a well-developed culture. We wonder at their strange ways. As we work alongside them, we make an effort to adopt the culture, to fit in as best we can. In other ways we reject it, picking our battles. We are few and isolated, powerless, so we must become careful observers in order to protect ourselves.

In this culture competition is valued over cooperation. Its central tenet seems to involve establishing a pecking order, as with chickens. Woe to the one who falls to the bottom, who becomes the relentlessly picked on. Of course, our strategy is to stay under the radar and try to avoid the pecking order arrangement altogether. This is not always possible, but our differentness sometimes works to our advantage. It confuses them when they can’t immediately find a slot for us.

We speak the same language, but the words have different meanings. Topics of conversation seem designed to enable the game of one-upmanship. Slurs referring to another’s ethnic origins appear to be some sort of rite of passage. Or this may be associated with establishment of the pecking order. Weapons and war-like games assume great importance especially in the seasons when these games are played publicly. Boasting of ownership of machines, especially big ones, appears to be a way to increase position in the pecking order.

They name things after genitals and sex organs. There are nipples and studs and dicks and limberdicks, screwing and shut off cocks, male and female fittings, king studs, glory holes, screws and nuts, double hung, slab penetrations and butt joints and erection, base shaft and tip. We begin to think that nearly every word in our shared language contains a double meaning, often also referring to their own genitals or to the sex act. 

Size matters in this culture. Although displaying genitals is taboo, the topic of genital size is paramount. Body size seems to contribute to pecking order status and is afforded much more importance than skill or especially intellectual capacity. In fact, intellectual prowess must be hidden in this culture to avoid low pecking order status. Presumably, the smart figure this out quickly and become proficient at pretending to be dumb. 

While smartness can be covered up, small size cannot, and so the small are particularly prone to being picked on. The small have devised many strategies to avoid low pecking order status, but bonding together to form their own sub-group, an obvious possibility that we might employ, has not been one. Perhaps this indicates that the small also accept the dominant paradigm that their size makes them inferior. The typical response by the small is to develop what they call a “thick skin” and a pugnacious demeanor. Their insecurity makes them particularly difficult for us to work with, especially when we are the larger.

An important communication medium seems to be the walls of the elimination shacks. The creatures carry markers for drawing pictures and messages there. One often-depicted image is of their genitals. We try to understand what impulse might drive this primitive art. It appears to be a method of marking territory, as with dogs. We try to imagine ourselves painting our genitals on walls but find no equivalent in our own culture. We wonder at this practice, and think it may be intended to distress. To counter the practice, we follow behind with our own markers, making the genitals into faces with eyes and noses.

In our observations we look to find comparisons with other cultures. This species’ lifestyle bears more than a passing resemblance to canine culture. We notice that while they may exhibit friendly behavior when encountered alone, when they organize into packs they often become dangerously unfriendly. They see threats everywhere and might attack even when not threatened, just for the fun of it. The killing of other animals has acquired the level of a sport and is much discussed. We labor to avoid being seen as animals.

We begin to understand that we are not the only ones isolated here. Each member of this culture is, by design, alone in competition with the others. We wonder if anyone has ever taught them an alternative, that cooperation can be a marker of strength rather than weakness. We wonder if it’s too late.

Back Home Depression Takes Over

Flo Listens to Lili Marlene on Repeat

My Mother and Audie Murphy Chapter 120

In April 1946, Flo returned to her hometown of Yakima, where she spent the summer reflecting on her two years in Europe as a Red Cross “donut girl.” My cousin Sandy, who was then six years old and a frequent visitor to “grandma’s house” remembers that Flo sat in her room listening to the song Lili Marlene over and over during that time, likely while compiling the album of her wartime experiences–a way of processing the grief and loss she carried home.

Back in the USA. Flo was always reading.

Lili Marlene was a German love song that became an unlikely anthem of World War II, beloved by both Axis and Allied troops. Originally written as a poem in 1915 by Hans Leip, a conscripted schoolteacher, it was set to music in 1938 and first recorded by Lale Andersen in 1939. The song gained massive popularity after being played frequently by Soldatensender Belgrad (Soldier’s Radio Belgrade), a German radio station broadcasting across Europe and the Mediterranean. Despite initial opposition from propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels, the song’s immense popularity among soldiers—including General Erwin Rommel—forced the Nazi government to embrace it as a broadcast sign-off.

For soldiers in the field, the song’s nostalgic, melancholy tone symbolized the distant homes and loved ones they left behind. Allied soldiers in North Africa and Italy often listened to it as a nightly ritual, with some even adapting the melody to their own lyrics.

The song’s reach expanded further through the U.S. Office of Strategic Services’ “Muzak Project,” which used musical propaganda to influence enemy morale. As part of this effort, Marlene Dietrich recorded the song in German and performed it live for Allied troops across Europe. Dietrich continued to perform Lili Marlene throughout her career, including in the 1961 film Judgment at Nuremberg, cementing the song’s legacy as a poignant symbol of the shared loneliness and longing experienced by soldiers on all sides of the conflict. For Flo, the song’s melancholy resonated deeply with her own shattered state of mind.

Flo was depressed and I suspect that she suffered from what we now recognize as post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) after witnessing so much destruction and death including the death of her fiancé, Gene Gustafson. She was quoted in a newspaper saying she was “surprised at the seeming apathy with which world affairs are considered by most persons.” She told me that Americans were most concerned with shortages of things like nylons and gas rather than the war. After the war they didn’t want to talk about it. Flo worried about the fate of Europeans, many of whom were homeless and starving, but Americans just wanted to move on.