The War Years, Part 2

My first memories are intimately associated with World War II. We were in Chicago because of the war; we went to New Haven because of the war; and most everything I remember, even a train ride and Thanksgivings seemed to circle around the gravid event.

Hitler sent his troops marching into Poland a few months before my birth. Canadian troops, the first from North America, landed in England the week I was born, and Pearl Harbor was bombed the same month I turned two. The War impacted all of our lives. The Nation was rightfully convinced that we were in a struggle for our existence and everybody was in the same boat. There was a sense of urgency and commitment so pervasive that it even penetrated the awareness of a three year old.

I was too young to understand the politics, follow the battles, or even to know what was happening, but the gravity of the War was inescapable. I grew up with the war. It shadowed my early memories, always there as the backdrop to my infant life. We were nine months in Chicago because of the war and nearly a year in New Haven, Connecticut.

It seemed like everybody was in uniform. I remember brother Don and me sitting on the laps of three servicemen we picked up while driving home from Connecticut. We were in the back seat of our 1936 Ford. They were hitchhiking home on leave; two wore army uniforms and one was a sailor.The house on Lafountain was the place we came home to - Mom Dad, Don, and me. Grandma Della Frank lived with us and was there to welcome us back each time.

Grandma Frank hung a small banner in her front bedroom window. It was about 6 by 10 inches with a white background bordered in red, and a blue star in the middle. Anyone who passed knew there was a person serving in uniform related to the people inside. There were a lot of those banners in a lot of windows. Our star was for my Uncle Joe Frank. He was thirty-two when the war began so he was one of the older soldiers. Uncle Joe served in New Guinea and the Philippines, and like most Vets, he never had much to say about it.

Certain names and phrases stick in my mind even yet: Iwo Jima, Tarawa, Guadalcanal, D-Day, and Omaha Beach for a few. Some houses had banners with two and three stars. One house in Iowa had five stars. The Sullivan brothers. All five, died in 1942 when their ship was torpedoed and sank in the Pacific.

I made my contribution to the war effort in 1945. There were a half dozen boys living on our block. I was the youngest at five. There others ranged from six on up to ten, though three were brother Don’s age of seven. One of the older came up with the idea that we should collect newspapers to sell. We took our wagons and went door-to-door gathering up old newspapers, and then towed them four blocks west on Broadway to the Mervis salvage yard. On the way one of the group suggested a plan in which each of us would put a foot on the scales so we could claim a greater profit.

That seemed easy, and we entered the yard with a light hearted confidence. The scales were five foot on a side and level with the floor, so we easily pulled our wagons onto it and dumped the newspapers. Then we hovered around the edge with one foot projecting onto the scale. There were six small shoes pressing a few more pounds. I wish I had a picture of that scene. Of course we did not get away with it. The old man running the scales told us we had to back off. He was only a little gruff, but I expect he was laughing inside. War profiteering can apparently start at a young age.

The war ended in August of 1945. Everybody in Kokomo was in the streets celebrating. Mom said that people tore up ration booklets and used the stamps as confetti. We drove all around town in our 1936 Ford. The town square was absolutely packed with people. They were dancing, and singing, and some were just yelling in jubilation. Mom and Dad decided that we needed a noise maker so Dad took the metal cover off the spare tire, tied it to the bumper with a rope, and dragged it through the streets. It did a fair job of clanking and banging while it lasted, but came loose in the south part of town, but we kept going. Mom said they didn’t get much sleep for next two or three days, and the celebration when on for week. I’ve never seen a bigger Thanksgiving.