Seventeen years ago to this day, PBS aired the first episode in filmmaker Ken Burns’ documentary series “The Civil War.” When awards season rolled around, the series would rack up honors, but it did much more than that, too:
That bloody and still ragged swatch of American history — brought to life and light with photographs, scholarly interviews and haunting music, and presented with a teacher’s precision and an artist’s insight — was as compelling as any Aaron Spelling serial of the day, and it generated as much talk around dinner tables and water coolers as the new NFL season. A sad, unfinished story, more than 100 years old, enlightened and elevated the national conversation.
Tonight, PBS begins airing “The War,” Burns’ new documentary series that looks at Americans at home and abroad during World War II, and there is tremendous opportunity for the national conversation to be enlightened and elevated again.
The documentarian’s look at the war will unfold over seven weeks. This time his estimable storytelling abilities are further enhanced with film footage and eyewitness accounts, and that helps forge a quick bond with viewers.
So does World War II’s proximity to our age. It is still within personal reach, though less so with each passing day. Some of us fought in the war. Many of us lived through the war. Even more of us have relatives who fought and died in the war, or who sacrificed at home throughout the war. And we have our stories to tell each other, too — our micro to share, in accompaniment to Burns’ macro.
Toward that end, The Courier-Journal is inviting readers to share their memories, their stories, about World War II. The letters and photos we receive will be posted online at courier-journal.com/thewar throughout the run of “The War” on PBS, and some of those pieces will be printed in the newspaper over the coming weeks.
Already we’ve heard from several readers. Some excerpts:
Ken Kurtz of Lexington writes, “I was sick in bed when World War II started, and was the first one in my family to know. I had a bad sore throat, and was confined to bed and on a fruit juice diet. I was listening to CBS Radio’s broadcast of a concert when John Daly broke in to read the war bulletin, mispronouncing the name of the Hawaiian island where Pearl Harbor was located; it was largely unknown to many of us. That moment was recorded by Ed Murrow for his series ‘Hear it Now.’ I heard it — then, as it happened.
“I was 11, too young for the war, but old enough to help organize my high school’s Victory Corps, gather fat, papers, scrap metal, plant a Victory garden, urge my widowed mother to take in a British war orphan (she said no), and stick pins into maps as radio and the newspapers told us where the war was that day. . . . ”
Tony Glass, a former Marine from Mount Washington, writes about his great-uncle Melvin Rich, ” . . . Serving with the Office of Strategic Service force, the precursor group to the modern-day CIA, he fought the Japanese in the Pacific Theater during World War II. He was wounded and received six Purple Hearts and the Bronze Star among many other medals. It was said he joked that he got every award but the Medal of Honor and the Good Conduct medal. His favorite weapons were the Thompson sub-machine gun and the flamethrower. His job description was ‘tunnel rat.’ He was credited with more than 500 confirmed enemy killed. His wounds included being burned, shot in the gut, bayoneted in the back, butted in the head by a rifle stock and burned with white phosphorus from a grenade. He did this while he was just 18 to 21 years old. . . . ”
Linda Biere of Louisville writes, “I was born in 1940, so I don’t remember the start of the war, but I do remember standing in line with my mother for ration books on a hot day. The ration book office was at Semple School on Denmark Avenue. My mother, now 90, worked at Curtiss-Wright airplane factory (I think it is now the site of the UPS hangars). She wore a white coverall, and looked very snappy. We lived at Third and Kenwood Way, and she would ride a bike to work, dropping me off at nursery school/kindergarten at Phillips Lane and Crittenden Drive. My grandfather had made a special seat to hold me during the ride. . . .
“I remember the plastic bags of white oleo, with the little yellow bubble of yellow coloring that had to be massaged into the oleo to make it look like butter. We saved bacon fat to turn in for the war effort, and my mother kept a grease can on her stove for years after. The Christmas tree ornaments were funny little things of cellophane clusters. My mother used leg makeup because there were no nylons to be had. . . . ”
Dale Rhoades of Louisville writes, “My father, Lovell, was born in 1913 and drafted at 29 years old to serve in the U.S. Army Air Corps. I had two uncles — Herman and Robert — who served in the European theater. Robert was wounded a couple of times and made it home. Herman was killed during the Battle of the Bulge. Both were highly decorated, and Herman was posthumously awarded the Silver Star, along with other medals.
“My father was stationed at Wright-Patterson Field in Ohio as an MP. After being denied leave for his brother’s funeral, my father went AWOL to attend. He hitchhiked home from Wright-Patterson Field to 11000 National Turnpike to attend the funeral and be with his divorced mother for two days.
“He then hitchhiked back and upon his arrival was summoned by his colonel to explain his absence, all the while thinking he’d be charged as a deserter. The colonel understood my father’s plight and let him off with a ‘Don’t let it happen again.’ After the war my father was honorably discharged. . . . ”
These recollections are a great start, and already demonstrate the value of shared memory. Learning about the past prompts learning about the present and, one hopes, provides lessons for the future.
In looking over the stories already sent to us, I ask myself: Will our children remember where they were and what they were doing when the war of their childhood started; do they feel and understand the import and implications of their war; do they keep and follow maps of where our soldiers are?
Will the exploits of the soldiers in our families be recalled in such detail, and with such vigor, by their descendants? Will we ask why most of us are sacrificing nothing at home now, while our soldiers and Marines are being asked to sacrifice everything in an unforgiving place far away? Will we wonder about the bonds of love that transform the ordinary to the extraordinary — whether that is love for brother and mother, or love of country?
I spoke with Tracy K’Meyer, an associate professor of history at the University of Louisville and co-director of the school’s oral history center, to get some pointers on effective ways to share individual stories about common experiences.
To unearth the gems that are part of this familiar field, writers should try to get past the nostalgia involved in telling old stories and look for the telling details. Some of K’Meyer’s suggestions: Walk the reader through a typical day from that time; be specific; get into the nitty-gritty of life. Share what you knew about the war, what you thought of the war, what lessons you took from the war. Show and tell how it affected life after the war, when folks came home.
Again, we welcome your stories and your photos, and want to share them with other readers. Please send your stories and pictures to War, Editorial Department, P.O. Box 740031, Louisville, Ky., 40201-7431; e-mail, cjletters@courier-journal.com; fax, (502) 582-4155. Don’t forget to include your name, address and daytime phone number.
We look forward to hearing from you.
Regarding “The War,” I had to share this: I was in the music department of a large bookstore in my neighborhood one afternoon last week, intending to buy the new Eddie Vedder album, as well as the 30th anniversary edition of Elvis Costello’s classic “My Aim Is True.” (Yes, 30 years. Can you believe it?) I was chatting with the sales assistant — they had Eddie, but not Elvis — when my eye was drawn to a display of CDs shaped around the companion book to “The War.”
Just because I like Eddie Vedder and Elvis Costello doesn’t mean I can’t and don’t love the great and unforgettable music of the Big Band era, which coincided with the time of “The War.” So I beelined over to the generous collection of swing and patriotic music that was conveniently gathered alongside the book. Before the clerk could say “Debit or credit, ma’am,” I’d added some Tommy Dorsey and Benny Goodman to my Eddie Vedder.
Unlike old soldiers, great music doesn’t even fade away. I’ve been tooling down the road to “Opus One” and “Stompin’ at the Savoy” ever since.
You might want to check it out, too.
