Do you
know where you were at about 7 p.m.
sixty-three years ago today? I certainly do. December 7 always triggers
memories of my youth, a youth where war and the likelihood of war were
constantly in most people’s minds. And now it seems that, in my dotage, war and
the likelihood of war is becoming a constant again.
But, let
me tell you of the last good war. I say ‘good’ because it was the last war
where we, the United States of America, were truly united because, I believe,
we were correct in believing and doing the right thing, the just thing and
(although many will disagree) the moral thing.
The last
good war, World War II, was a totally different war than just about all we have
fought since, including the one against terrorism that we are fighting today.
First of all, everyone knew in their innermost selves that we were at war – and
knew it virtually every waking moment. There was no way to avoid it; the
newspapers, magazines, radio, movies were full of it (think of CNN on
steroids). We all had ration books and, most importantly, we all had brothers,
uncles or cousins who were in the armed forces.
For a kid physically removed from any possible danger the
war was an exciting time. The movies were filled with gallant Americans
fighting the dirty enemy. “The FBI in Peace and War” and similar radio programs
warned us constantly of the chicanery of the enemy. Posters, such as the famous
“Loose lips sink ships” one, appeared in many public and private places.
Thoughts of death and mutilation were far from my mind until the big brothers
of the kids down the street came
home damaged or dead. And even then the excitement remained. They were not
family. I was not close to them.
Even the
newspapers were exciting: the huge headlines,
the maps of places with exotic names, photos and stories of the heroes in
combat. My reading skills and knowledge of geography improved considerably
during the war.
The war
was central to my growing up and had significant impact on my family. I was
almost five years old when we entered WWII. And, in some ways - since it is the
first memory I can recall – it was the beginning of recorded time for me. It
was a Sunday night around 7. The kitchen had not yet been divided in two; it
was still a very big room. I was playing on the floor. The radio was tuned to
the news as it always was when Aunt Jennie visited. Then, the interruption –
the Japanese have bombed Pearl Harbor . As with
the 9/11 actions, America
was stunned. They had attacked us directly. True, it was not the mainland and Hawaii was not yet a
state; but they had destroyed American ships and killed Americans. As with
9/11, we should not have been surprised. In fact, the Pearl
Harbor attack should have been less of a surprise since the war
had been going on in the rest of the world for more than two years. But, then
as now, we found it hard to accept that we have enemies, real, flesh-and-blood
people who hate us.
Despite
our being 3000 miles from the front, the war became our life. It was our constant
companion. It so captured America ’s
imagination, thoughts, fears and dreams that even kids
did their bit to help. It united America as little has since.
Some
background
I don’t
want to delve into politics too much but some background is necessary. Although
my mother was born in the States, we were very much a first generation Italian
immigrant family. My father had come here in 1912, my mother spent some of her
youth in Italy .
While there was a strong love of Italy and things Italian, the
primary drive for them and their children was toward assimilation. English was
the language they used most of the time; however, Italian dialect was also
spoken often around the house. My father’s mother, brother and sister remained
in Italy ,
so there were family ties to the homeland as well. Nonetheless, being a US citizen was
the sine qua non of those days for an immigrant. My father served in the army
in the first war and during the second he was on the draft board and was an air
raid warden.
Since Italy was now
one of the enemy, my parents and other Italian-Americans were in a difficult
spot. Their children were fighting Italians, their blood brothers. Other
Americans were skeptical of the loyalty of Italians. During Mussolini’s rise,
he was praised by many Italian-Americans, my family included. In fact, for many
years there in the living room was a photograph of my brother, Eddie, dressed
in the uniform of the Fascist youth; it was taken while he was a guest of the
Italian government for a month in the 1930’s.
Although
my mother came from a family of seven girls, we were closest to Aunt Jennie,
her sister, and Uncle Musty, my father’s brother. Both Jennie and Musty were
strong personalities. I don’t know whether they were always politically
conservative or not, but during the war they were definitely anti-Roosevelt. My
aunt’s hatred of Roosevelt stemmed from a
campaign promise he had made in 1940: “Mothers, your sons will not go to war”.
When young men, her son included, began to be drafted, she went ballistic. While
my parents may have disagreed with her, they did not often voice it as she was
the older sister and quite powerful in her beliefs, which she shared with us
almost every evening as she listened to Fulton J. Lewis, an arch-conservative,
read and comment on the news.
The
economy
Today,
Bush cuts taxes and urges us to go out and spend as a way to beat the enemy.
This approach was totally opposite to what happened in the war years. We
couldn’t buy many things without a book of ration coupons. Getting a new book
of coupons was like getting a pay check. When we went to the grocery store, we
took along our ration books. When my father bought gas for his car, he needed
his ration book. Of course, new cars were not seen, as the production of all
the car companies went for military purposes. The names of airplanes were as
well known then as the names of cars today – Flying Fortress, P-47, Stuka,
Spitfire, Zero; I can still see them in my mind. Miniature planes came along
with your box of cereal.
Price
controls were also in effect. Our wartime economy was a government-run economy.
And, it really had to be as the economies of our allies were in shambles and
this war really had the potential to destroy Western Civilization.
Air
Raid Drills and other wartime activity
What could be more exciting to a little kid than an air
raid drill? The sirens blaring, the closing of the curtains, the dowsing of the
lights. But, maybe because you were a kid you knew it was only a drill. It
couldn’t be real; the Krauts and the Japs were very far away. Yet, when the
horns blew, my father, who was an air raid warden, put on his helmet, picked up
his flashlight and went out to check that there were no lights shining from any
homes or businesses in the neighborhood. We, of course, shut all the lights,
drew the curtains and then peeked out to see whether anyone had their lights
on.
The only way to communicate with the troops was via the
mail. (Unless of course, your son was wounded or killed; in that case you’d get
a telegram.) So, my mother would write letters to her sons and, for some
reason, she felt that I should do so also. My sisters were exempt from this
task, but I was not. It was a real pain for me as I had no idea what to write
and would be frustrated by my inability to do so.
After Italy
fell, my parents were able to send packages to my father’s family. Perhaps once
a month my mother would create these huge care packages filled with the basics.
She would sew them up in heavy cotton and my father would lug them to the post
office after filling out the appropriate forms.
We spent
days rolling the aluminum foil in which gum sticks were wrapped into a giant
ball. Where this ball went I know not, but it was a patriotic thing to do. As
it was patriotic for the females to knit sweaters and assemble bandages.
Daily entertainment was largely over the radio;
periodically, we would go to the local movie house when they were giving out
free dishes. Movies then were accompanied by newsreels which largely reported
the US
view of the war. Even movie stars were dragooned into the war. Some saw combat,
many sold war bonds. Contrast that with today’s volunteer army.
While before the war kids
played “cops and robbers”, we, the kids
of the early ‘40s, played war games. There was no escaping the real world, not
even in play.
Even
now, almost sixty years later, I find it hard to comprehend the power of the
atom bombs we dropped on Japan .
(And those bombs were tiny compared to today’s generation!) At that time we
really didn’t get a complete picture of how horrific the damage was, or at
least I didn’t. The strong impression drilled into my Catholic mind was that
the second bomb was dropped on Nagasaki ,
a Catholic city. The nuns saw it as another attempt to persecute Catholics and
drilled it into our heads. They ignored the catastrophic effect of the bomb, as
did most of America .
We were just happy that the war was finally ending.
VJ
Day
VJ Day
was the day the Japanese surrendered. It so happened to also be the Feast of
the Assumption (a fact noted by the religious among us). My sisters, cousins
and I spent the day cutting up newspapers which we threw from the window when
the formal announcement was made. The whole country was a bedlam. Even Cambridge
Street was crowded unlike any other time before or
since. You could cross the street only with great difficulty and with a degree
of risk. Drivers and others were drunk. I can still see the guy down the street
playing the bagpipe. The blaring of car horns was constant. It was an unbelievable
day across the country.
Back
to “normalcy”
The
return to the life we led before the war never happened. The Cold War began
virtually immediately. In many ways this was even scarier than the hot war that
had just ended. But, that is the subject of another day.
2 comments:
Brings back a lot of memories Al. So well written.
"I was 5 when the war started, but I recall much of what you so vividly write about: Metal drives in school (I gave up my cap pistol), collecting balls of foil, hearing the bulletins on the radio, seeing the Movietone newsreels at our neighborhood movies. I saw the war headlines on the afternoon papers on the stand outside Stein's candy (etc.) store, and that's where I saw the news of the A-bombs and then soon after, VJ day. Thanks for the memories of a time we were indeed (mostly) united.
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