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"The boys had dumped a pail of whey on the kitchen floor. Each boy had one of Helen's ankles, pulling her across the wooden floor on her bare bottom. When they reached the far end of the kitchen and swirled around for another trip, their mother's crimson face brought them to an abrupt halt. They looked at her for a moment, still holding their sister's legs in the air. In unison, they dropped Helen's legs and quickly wiped their hands on their trousers as if nothing had been going on. Maria stood quivering, surveying the kitchen. The whey had splashed up onto the papered walls above the broad,…mehr

Produktbeschreibung
"The boys had dumped a pail of whey on the kitchen floor. Each boy had one of Helen's ankles, pulling her across the wooden floor on her bare bottom. When they reached the far end of the kitchen and swirled around for another trip, their mother's crimson face brought them to an abrupt halt. They looked at her for a moment, still holding their sister's legs in the air. In unison, they dropped Helen's legs and quickly wiped their hands on their trousers as if nothing had been going on. Maria stood quivering, surveying the kitchen. The whey had splashed up onto the papered walls above the broad, wooden baseboards. It was on the chairs, table legs, and wood-fired cookstove. Helen's hair and dress were soaked, her bottom cherry red from the friction. Helen's bottom soon wasn't the lone occupant of that end of the color spectrum. Severe consequences were vigorously dealt out." "Johann and Susanna sat holding hands on the train between Kars and Tiflis (Tbilisi). Before leaving, they had both purchased new civilian wardrobes. With the political landscape uncertain, it was best not to appear affiliated with any ideology. It was a certainty that, if you left an impression that you favored one side or the other, you'd run into someone who rabidly held an opposing view. Politics in the 1918 Caucasus region had more than two sides-way more. There were Tsarists, Bolsheviks, and Anarchists. Every one of those groups was subdivided further into religious, ethnic, and tribal variations. Each sect would rather kill you than persuade you to their side." 'As they walked toward the compound, Frank Stoltzfus pumped Gerhardt for his family's story, wanting to know how they ended up in Constantinople. After making it as far as Batumi in the telling, Frank stopped Gerhardt with a hand on his arm. He asked, "You mean to tell me that since your family was driven out of the Caucasus, you've basically been refugees for four years, looking for a safe place for your family?" Gerhardt shrugged. "I hadn't thought of it that way. I always thought we were just searching for a home to raise our children in peace." Frank replied, "That's the definition of a refugee."' ¿¿¿¿¿"Always so sure of his path forward, Gerhardt now found himself second guessing his every step. He knew that he had to forge ahead on this path of unsure footing. Otherwise, he would surrender what little control he had over his family's fate. They would be doomed to become more faceless victims of the blackness enveloping Russia." Based on actual people and events, THEY HAVE CONQUERED is a fictional account of an extended Mennonite family living in turn-of-the-century Southern Russia. Set in what is now modern-day eastern Ukraine, the family's journeys take them to Siberia, Kazakhstan, Dagestan, Georgia, Turkey, Latvia, Poland, Germany, and North America. Within the short period of 1894 to early 1922, the lead character, Gerhardt, and his brothers are conscripted into World War One and the Revolution. While Gerhardt was off to WWI, his wife, Maria, had to deal with her two rambunctious boys, their younger sister, and an infant girl In what is modern day Dagestan. During the Revolution, Gerhardt and Maria move into Crimea while the rest of his family do their best to survive in east central Ukraine. With the fall of the White Army in the west, the situation becomes untenable. With Crimea cut off from the mainland, they are forced to become refugees -- again.
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Autorenporträt
Born into a large blue collar family, Herbert Wiens was raised to value the rewards gained from hard work. Starting the summer after first grade, he tagged along with his older sisters as they boarded the "Bean Bus" at dawn to pick berries and string beans in Oregon's Willamette Valley. From then on, he never failed to have an after (or before) school job to help with family expenses. In high school, he started working on North Idaho ranches. In college, he fought forest fires in the summer and started working nights in a sawmill to pay tuition. His college experience was interrupted by a non-negotiable invitation from Uncle Sam, requesting his presence for the next few years in an all expenses paid, Vietnam era, tour of the world. Upon discharge, not having anything else better to do until he decided upon a future, he returned to the sawmill. Life got in the way for the next twenty years. Then, he became a small businessman for the next twenty. Now, he is spending his time using a keyboard to torture editors.