Authors:
Historic Era:
Historic Theme:
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June/July 2005 | Volume 56, Issue 3
Authors:
Historic Era:
Historic Theme:
Subject:
June/July 2005 | Volume 56, Issue 3
It was not until 2004, 59 years after the end of the war, that a World War II memorial was dedicated in Washington, D.C. The eyewitness accounts of World War II are a different story. They began appearing while the war was going on, and as late as the 1990s they were still being written. Some of their authors would never write again. Some would never write so well, and some would go on to distinguished literary careers. But whether the writer was a pro or an amateur, a private or a general, was of secondary importance. What defines the best eyewitness accounts of World War II is a preference for detail over abstraction and a deep empathy for the toll the war took on those who waged it. The authenticity they share was epitomized by a letter written home in 1943 by a young naval officer serving in the Pacific: “When I read that we will fight the Japs for years if necessary and will sacrifice hundreds of thousands if we must, I always like to check from where he’s talking: it’s seldom here.” The young naval officer was Lt. (jg) John F. Kennedy, and at the core of the letter lies his belief that in order to understand the war, it was essential to be close to it. The 10 books that follow, 5 from the Atlantic Theater of war and 5 from the Pacific, suggest that Kennedy knew what he was talking about. The books are very much of their time—for William Manchester the Japanese remained “Japs” and “Nips” years after the war’s end—but in being taken back to the 1940s by these accounts, we are not in the end simply set down in an era different from our own. We are also given a perspective on what it means to engage in a “good war” against an enemy that has attacked us and that, if unchecked, would destroy us. Here Is Your War Up Front (Henry Holt, 1945). It might seem frivolous to include this collection of Bill Mauldin’s “Willie and Joe” cartoons but no GI who read Stars and Stripes would question the choice. Like Ernie Pyle, Mauldin portrayed World War II from the bottom up. As in the drawing of Joe’s being repaid with a pair of dry socks for saving a buddy’s life, Mauldin’s
(Henry Holt, 1943) and Brave Men (Henry Holt, 1944). Nobody understood the infantry’s perspective better than Pyle. “My men always fought better when Ernie was around,” Gen. Omar Bradley insisted, and with good reason. Pyle not only shared the daily lives of the soldiers he wrote about in his columns but captured what it meant for men to make the psychological transition from knowing that taking life was wrong to believing “killing was a craft.”