One hundred years ago, a thirty-year-old, red-headed farmer reached a turning point in his life. For the past few months he had agonized over a brutal choice: fight alongside the millions of doughboys shipping overseas to Europe and the Western Front; or refuse, and accept possible punishment at the hands of his countrymen. By March 1918 Alvin C. York could wait no longer. He made his choice somewhere in the misty, remote hills of his native East Tennessee—unknowingly deciding the fates of hundreds of his fellow men.

The 32^nd “Red Arrow” Division began its journey to the Western Front in January and February 1918. In combat, it would be a game-changer. Formed from the Michigan and Wisconsin National Guard, the division would play a leading role in cracking one of the most vital strongpoints in Germany’s Hindenberg Line, and pave the way to victory.

Not too long ago, that’s a question nobody would have thought to ask. Older paintings show Washington standing over women in poses of regal authority. He looks on them from a distance—maybe daring to touch hands in a formal dance—but always with respect. In the twentieth century, though, some revisionist historians argued that Washington had a “problem” with women. That he was a cheater. A brute.

An episode from my book Never in Finer Company: The Men of the Lost Battalion and the Transformation of America