Huelfer examines the casualty issue in American military thought and practice during the years between the World Wars. He argues that Americans exhibited a distinct aversion to combat casualties duirng the Interwar Period, a phenomenon that visibly influenced the military establishment and helped shape strategic planning, force modernization, and rearmament for World War II. In a broad topical approach, Huelfer's main theme—casualty aversion—is woven into discussions about military strategy and policies, doctrinal and technological development, the military education system, and how the American officer corps emerged from World War I and prepared for World War II. As Huelfer makes clear, aversion to combat casualties is not just a post-Vietnam War phenomenon, but rather has long been embedded within the American national heritage. Conventional wisdom link today's exacerbated aversion to combat casualties as fallout from the Vietnam debacle. In fact, this Vietnam Syndrome has remained at the forefront of contemporary strategic thinking. Huelfer shows that American political and military leaders have held lasting concerns about risking soldiers' lives in combat, even pre-dating U.S. involvement in World War II. The grim experiences of World War I had a profound impact upon the U.S. officer corps and how it viewed potential future conflicts. The casualty issue permeated the officers' strategic culture during the Interwar Period and colored their thinking about improving training, doctrinal evolution, force modernization, and technological development. Even though one cannot find the terms casualty issue, casualty aversion, or sensitivity to casualties directly stated in the speeches and writings of the era, this awareness clearly emerged as a subtext for the entire American effort in preparation for World War II. Huelfer highlights how casualty aversion shaped American strategy for World War II by incorporating ideas about the use of overwhelming force, air power, and mechanization—all designed to minimize losses.

During the first World War, a flag with a gold star identified families who had lost soldiers. Grieving women were "Gold Star" mothers and widows. Between 1930 and 1933, the United States government took 6,654 Gold Star pilgrims to visit their sons' and husbands' graves in American cemeteries in Belgium, England, and France. Veteran Army officers acted as tour guides, helping women come to terms with their losses as they sought solace and closure. The government meticulously planned and paid for everything from transportation and lodging to menus, tips, sightseeing, and interpreters. Flowered wreaths, flags, and camp chairs were provided at the cemeteries, and official photographers captured each woman standing at her loved one's grave. This work covers the Gold Star pilgrimages from their launch to the present day, beginning with an introduction to the war and wartime burial. Subsequent topics include the legislative struggle and evolution of the pilgrimage bill; personal pilgrimages, including that of the parents of poet Joyce Kilmer; the role of the Quartermaster Corps; the segregation controversy; a close examination of the first group to travel, Party A of May 1930; and the results of the pilgrimage experience as described by participants, observers, organizers, and scholars, researched through diaries, letters, scrapbooks, interviews, and newspaper accounts.

In the early twentieth century, Americans often waxed lyrical about “Mother Love,” signaling a conception of motherhood as an all-encompassing identity, rooted in self-sacrifice and infused with social and political meaning. By the 1940s, the idealization of motherhood had waned, and the nation’s mothers found themselves blamed for a host of societal and psychological ills. In Mom, Rebecca Jo Plant traces this important shift by exploring the evolution of maternalist politics, changing perceptions of the mother-child bond, and the rise of new approaches to childbirth pain and suffering. Plant argues that the assault on sentimental motherhood came from numerous quarters. Male critics who railed against female moral authority, psychological experts who hoped to expand their influence, and women who strove to be more than wives and mothers—all for their own distinct reasons—sought to discredit the longstanding maternal ideal. By showing how motherhood ultimately came to be redefined as a more private and partial component of female identity, Plant illuminates a major reorientation in American civic, social, and familial life that still reverberates today.