The vibrant East Bay city of Hayward was named for William Hayward, a '49er and American squatter who endeared himself to Mexican landowner Guillermo Castro by making him a good pair of boots. With Castro's permission, William stayed to open Hayward's Hotel on what is now Main and A Streets. That fortuitous location, near the convergence of the eight tributaries forming San Lorenzo Creek, made the region a natural transportation hub between the bay and the fertile Livermore Valley. Stagecoach lines, a narrow-gauge railroad, and later modern transportation links encouraged more immigrants to settle. Today Hayward is a diverse city of almost 150,000 people, and home to a campus of the California State University.

Revealing the mind-set of a soldier seared by the horrors of combat even as he kept faith in his cause, Last to Leave the Field showcases the private letters of Ambrose Henry Hayward, a Massachusetts native who served in the 28th Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry. Hayward’s service, which began with his enlistment in the summer of 1861 and ended three years later following his mortal wounding at the Battle of Pine Knob in Georgia, took him through a variety of campaigns in both the Eastern and Western theaters of the war. He saw action in five states, participating in the battles of Antietam, Chancellorsville, and Gettysburg as well as in the Chattanooga and Atlanta campaigns. Through his letters to his parents and siblings, we observe the early idealism of the young recruit, and then, as one friend after another died beside him, we witness how the war gradually hardened him. Yet, despite the increasing brutality of what would become America’s costliest conflict, Hayward continually reaffirmed his faith in the Union cause, reenlisting for service late in 1863. Hayward’s correspondence takes us through many of the war’s most significant developments, including the collapse of slavery and the enforcement of Union policy toward Southern civilians. Also revealed are Hayward’s feelings about Confederates, his assessments of Union political and military leadership, and his attitudes toward desertion, conscription, forced marches, drilling, fighting, bravery, cowardice, and comradeship. Ultimately, Hayward’s letters reveal the emotions—occasionally guarded but more often expressed with striking candor—of a soldier who at every battle resolved to be, as one comrade described him, “the first to spring forward and the last to leave the field.” Timothy J. Orr is an assistant professor of military history at Old Dominion University in Norfolk, Virginia.

Between 1853 and 1964, on the western shore of what is now the city of Hayward, there existed a small rural community. This pictorial history traces the role that this region, which became known as Russell City, played in the development of the East Bay. Named for Joel Russell, a New England teacher who came to California during the Gold Rush and found success as a judge, political activist, and businessman, Russell City later became a destination point for diverse migrant and immigrant groups including Spaniards, Danes, Germans, Italians, African Americans, and Mexicans. While the economic means of the residents were never great, social riches abounded in the cultural and religious traditions that were practiced. A plan to create an industrial park on Russell City land emerged during the 1950s, and by 1964 the residents and businesses were entirely removed through eminent domain. An annual reunion picnic, begun in 1978, serves as a reminder of the community once built and then tossed to the winds. In the words of the former residents, "The city may be gone, but the memories live on."

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During the First World War, a rich crop of legends sprouted from the battlefields and grew with such ferocity that many still excite controversy today. This book is the first to examine the roots of those stories and reveal the truth. Some myths remain well-known. Did an entire battalion of the Norfolk Regiment vanish without trace at Gallipoli in 1915? Did thousands of Russian troops actually pass through England with snow on their boots? In 1914, an acute spy mania gripped the British public, who imagined that the country was brimming with German spies. Xenophobia, denunciations and attacks on dachshunds were rampant. Amazingly, there was even talk of enemy aircraft dropping poisoned sweets to kill British children. Myths such as the Angel of Mons and the Comrade in White were more innocent creations. With no radio or television, rumours of disaster were rife, and the apparition of mystical guardian spirits gave hope to the civilian population at home. Other stories, such as the so-called Crucified Canadian, and the existence of a gruesome German corpse rendering factory, were more sinister. Yet in an age of new and startling technologies such as poison gas, submarine warfare and the tank, such tales appeared believable. Using a wide range of contemporary sources, James Hayward traces the story of each myth and examines the likely explanation. Supported by a selection of rare photographs and illustrations, the result is a refreshingly different perspective on the common 'mud and trenches' view of the First World War, shedding fascinating new light on many curious and unexplained wartime tales.

This volume of essays explores the rise of parliament in the historical imagination of early modern England. The enduring controversy about the nature of parliament informs nearly all debates about the momentous religious, political and governmental changes of the period – most significantly, the character of the Reformation and the causes of the Revolution. Meanwhile, scholars of ideas have emphasised the historicist turn that shaped political culture. Religious and intellectual imperatives from the sixteenth century onwards evoked a new interest in the evolution of parliament, framing the ways that contemporaries interpreted, legitimised and contested Church, state and political hierarchies. Parliamentary ‘history’ is explored through the analysis of chronicles, more overtly ‘literary’ texts, antiquarian scholarship, religious polemic, political pamphlets, and of the intricate processes that forge memory and tradition.