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This is the second of three chapters that set out the differing contexts through which the dilemma in the laws of war over the distinction between lawful and unlawful combatants can be viewed: political and diplomatic (Chapter 1), social (this chapter) and intellectual (Chapter 3). It explores the social history of army occupation and resistance to it in nineteenth century Europe – from the Napoleonic period to the Franco-Prussian war– and places these diplomatic failures in their broader social and political context. In particular it examines the range of army practices under occupation, and the effect that they had on civilian life. The different sections of the chapter discuss: pillaging, looting, requisitions and billeting; reprisals; hostage-taking; types of civilian behaviour –obedience to the occupier, political and armed acts of resistance, organized acts of resistance –guerrillas and franc-tireurs; levee en masse and other assorted insurrections; ideologies of resistance; religion as a source of resistance; and the influence of nationalism and patriotism.

This chapter examines wartime concern with sexual morality in general, and with the fidelity of military wives in particular. It analyses how popular culture, public officials, the Red Cross, and fighting men themselves reflected and produced ever wider anxiety over the fidelity of servicemen's wives. Drawing on wide-ranging secondary sources and an extraordinary number of contemporaneous sources, it offers a thorough exploration into wartime America's concerns over how returning GIs would adjust to civilian life, as well as the vital role that wives and sweethearts would play in a smooth transition to peacetime. Making extensive use of the University of Chicago's pioneering study of the war's domestic impacts, the chapter describes soldiers' wives as realistic, and more often than not, ready to take on the burdens of leading their husbands' adjustment. It highlights how single servicemen saw marriage as a source of stability and as a bridge easing the transition from military service to a productive and purposeful civilian life.

This chapter focuses on the flyer's return to civilian life at the end of the war. It argues that, while most former flyers embraced the return to hearth and home, some found the transition problematic, and that the maladjusted flyer is a surprisingly common character in film and literature in the immediate post-war years. It also considers flyers who entered public life after the war, not merely in Britain but, in the case of wartime fighter pilot turned white supremacist Ian Douglas Smith, in Britain's dwindling imperial possessions. The chapter concludes with a brief reflection on how dead comrades continued to cast a shadow over the post-war lives of those who had lived to see the end of hostilities.

The Vietnam War ended badly for the United States, and lingering public bitterness made life difficult for many veterans. American soldiers, sailors, marines, and airmen returned from Vietnam to a civilian public that regarded the war as a mistake and the results a failure. A popular image of the Vietnam War veteran arose of a deeply troubled and psychologically wounded man, condemned to recapitulate mentally and emotionally the anguish of fighting, killing, and dying. The culture of the post-Vietnam decades, glorifying the expression of emotion, deeply suspicious of public institutions, and, for much of the period, pessimistic, accounted for much of the ambivalence of the larger society toward veterans. Some veterans faced hardships, torments, and distress, suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and a variety of diseases linked to Agent Orange, including cancer. Others found their wartime experiences rewarding, or at least not damaging, and they readjusted easily to civilian life.

This book concludes by focusing on the end of antagonism between Union soldiers and Northern civilians that arose during the Civil War. The differences in opinion between the soldiers of the Union Army and civilian populations were a byproduct of the economic, political, and social divisions caused by the Civil War. Such differences vanished when the war ended and peace came in 1865, with citizen-soldiers making their transition back into civilian life. This epilogue considers the factors that contributed to the disappearance of the wartime divisions between Union soldiers and Northern civilians, including the outpouring of Northern enthusiasm at the arrival of peace and the soldiers' desire to see the uncomfortable memory of the divide come to an end.

This chapter examines William C. Oates' return to civilian life after the American Civil War. His first project was to rebuild his law practice in Abbeville, Alabama, which had suffered during the war years. In addition, he created his own opportunities, got involved in new activities that never occurred to him before the war, and expanded his economic and financial base beyond the confines of his law practice.

This chapter examines the process of leaving Korea and what happened to veterans once they returned to the home front. In contrast to previous wars, Korean War veterans returned home individually, rotating out after collecting a set number of points based on length and type of service in country. Some were greeted with parades or welcoming bands, but most experienced a quieter homecoming. Instead of celebrating the end of the war as in 1945, Americans gave little thought to it and seemed anxious to simply put Korea behind them as soon as possible. Congress passed a Korean GI Bill in 1952, but it was less generous than that of World War II in its readjustment benefits. This chapter considers the problems and issues that Korean War veterans had to deal with upon their return to their homeland and in trying to readjust to civilian life, including those relating to compensation and other benefits, employment, posttraumatic stress disorder, physical impairments and injuries, and segregation.

This chapter assesses the destroyed landscape of war and the cities of earth that soldiers built to survive, crafting a semi-urban space using standard issue spades and attempting to recreate aspects of civilian life. During the Great Patriotic War, survival at the front was virtually impossible without the help of an ancient hand tool: the spade. Indeed, the idea of the spade as a loyal friend became a major trope of military propaganda. That such a humble object received so much attention is telling. The spade was the key to soldiers' reading, shaping, and using the landscape. The soldier's small spade was an anonymous object, standard to everyone, and manuals taught soldiers to dig trenches according to a regular plan, yet Red Army soldiers excavated highly personalized spaces. Ultimately, the small, relatively primitive object and the labor it facilitated were central to the experience of millions of people in one of the most technologically advanced conflicts in world history.

This chapter concerns the shifting attitudes of Americans toward GI brides after World War II. The period following the war was the heyday of the war bride in the twentieth century; the white Allied war brides whom GIs brought to the United States after the conflict were celebrated—a striking contrast with their reception after the World War I. Their arrival heralded an optimistic view of the United States' place in international relations. These foreign brides symbolized and personalized what had happened to a generation of young Americans who had fought a long war around the globe. And as families, employers, and policymakers pondered the problems of veterans' “readjustment” to civilian life in the postwar moment, the war brides became a model solution: as ideal wives for homecoming soldiers, who could be a bridge between the spheres of war and home, both foreign and familiar at the same time.

This chapter chronicles the life of Saw Ralph and his family after the revolution. It begins with his time living as a refugee in Thailand and then turns to his eventual move to Australia. Here, Saw Ralph reflects on the difficulties and challenges his family endured as a result of Saw Ralph's participation in the revolution. It also covers Saw Ralph's day-to-day life in Australia, particularly his attempts to learn English and his efforts to delve further into Christianity. Alongside these activities, Saw Ralph faces difficulties adjusting to civilian life, although he further reveals that despite his old age, he remains as active as ever.

This chapter expresses concern with the one-sided nature of humanitarian actors’ narratives from Syria, which is promoted by international nongovernmental organizations (INGOs) through their large presence in the media. It discusses how these humanitarian actors’ narratives contributed heavily to the growing alienation and intransigence between the opposition and the government, making any meaningful dialogue between them nearly impossible. It also mentions the humanitarian actors’ contribution to the spread of disinformation in the Syrian war due to their presence on only one side of the conflict. The chapter refers to humanitarian actors who continued to defy the constraints on providing assistance by finding ways to deliver aid inside areas under siege and by speaking out against the complete disregard for civilian life and infrastructure by the warring parties. It reviews the history of contemporary humanitarian organizations’ formation, as well as their role and the activities in which they have participated.

This chapter looks at John Philip Sousa's involvement in Washington's civilian musical life during the 1880s. As the conductor of Washington's most stable ensemble, Sousa suddenly became one of the city's most prominent musicians. In the same way musical marines found theater work through their band, Sousa's new position provided him with the opportunity to serve as a guest conductor and featured composer for Washington's many other ensembles. Indeed, just as his relationship with the band was symbiotic, Sousa and Washington's amateur organizations found their shared work mutually beneficial. A local orchestra or opera company could clearly profit from the young musician's expertise, while Sousa was able to cultivate the theatrical interests that had so successfully sustained him in Philadelphia.

This chapter focuses on Julius Lineback. At twenty-eight, he was skinny and a bit on the small side, but so far he had been able to meet the demands of army life. For a while he had even carried the E-flat bass—a tuba-like instrument that had dwarfed him—until he had been able to switch to the cornet. He was not a soldier and did not pretend to be one. In civilian life, he had been a bookkeeper, but he loved music, and he had eagerly joined the regimental band—which had allowed him to do his patriotic duty while making music. It was obvious that a hard campaign lay ahead, but he had already seen hard times. During battle the bandsmen were detailed as litter bearers and hospital attendants, and at battlefields like Malvern Hill he had seen gore and suffering aplenty. If this new campaign led to more fighting, the band would be there to do its duty as needed.