They truly were the Reasonably Great Generation
I think this must be the archive of nazi propaganda that kiwiboy mentioned.
NoClueBoy, that stuff is up on my server now. Check your mail for the URL.
Well, I’m far off from WWII, but here is what I can contribute:
Both my grandfathers were American citizens. Grandfather on my mother’s side became a paratrooper with a rifle expertise, and subsequently broke his leg on a practice jump behind German occupied lines in Western Europe. My grandfather on my father’s side was a naval instructor and radio operator in Florida. He was there when the famous squadron disappeared in the alleged Bermuda Triangle. His take was that their compasses were skewed to the point of disaster.
Thanks, Mudd. Downloading as we speak!
The Calvin stuff is pretty good, too. (Thanks Kiwi & Mudd)
Though there is much more info available than I originally thought, it is surprisingly difficult to find.
This post has brought more than I found (on this specific subject) in a couple of months of part time web searching. (Gotta work sometime, no?)
My grandparents on my mum’s side were both Jews living in Europe. They didn’t meet until after the war.
I don’t have a timeline of events but in 1943 my Gramma was probably hiding out in the farmhouse her immediate family spend the war in.
My grampa, after his first wife and son were sent to concentration camps (he was out of the country) had joined the Polish underground. I’m not sure what he was doing but in 1943 he was either still active or in a POW camp he wound up in for being caught blowing up a bridge. He posed as a Frenchman to explain being circumsized and spend the rest of the war there. He was a master tinsmiith and would make simple toys that he traded the guards for milk so when the allies liberated his camp he was starving and very undernourished but alive. Him and my grandma met on the boat on the way to Australia.
Some of my family were smuggled out of Germany and into America by an SS officer. Unfortunately after smuggling out one too many Jews he was caught and shot for treason.
On my dad’s side my grampa was an army librarian in Saskatchewan and his brother was a Canadian army medic in Europe. Other than him winding up mostly deaf from being too near gunfire I don’t know anything about his time there.
I’m also a Vietnam/70’s kid (yeah I know) but Dad’s vintage 1936, Mom 1939. I’m very interested in history and have often asked them about the war.
All Mom remembers are the blackouts. She was a little girl in Brooklyn and everybody had to buy heavy curtains so no light would come out at night. She and her dad were caught outside in one and it was very scary–the trolleys were running slowly with no lights and the traffic cops had their hands full. And U-boats and stuff were indeed spotted off Long Island and the V-whatever rocket could have hit NY if it had been finished, so the danger wasn’t that far away for the East Coast. She remembers the nonstop partying at V-J and V-E days and some her uncles went overseas (all made it back).
Dad was a pretty observant Bronx boy and he remembers a lot of stuff; he was a little young to remember '43 but he has told me:
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The country at midpoint of the war was behind the war effort, no matter what the feelings had been before it began. It simply wouldn’t have occured to young men to try and dodge the draft–not that they were sheep, but the sense of duty was very very strong. Being 4-F was a source of shame unless your problem was visually obvious. You’d be assigned to something stateside.
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The gasoline rationing was tough, although as a city kid his dad could go weeks without needing his car. He remembered the coupon books and all.
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He was a railfan–still is!–and remembers some of the trains being stored in yards and sidings and the unused middle tracks of the els (and 2nd, 3rd, 9th, and part of the 6th Avenue els were still there). Trains were more crowded because a lot of them were being used to get soldiers from the hinterlands to NYC or Boston to go to Europe–which leads to
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His memory of seeing the poor lovely Normandie, at the time the most beautiful and elegant ship in the world, lying on her side in the icy Hudson. When she was being converted to a troopship she caught fire and capsized in February 1942. The ship remained there for the duration and anybody who used the West Side Highway could see her; she became a sort of macabre landmark. And all the great ships of the world, Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mary, the Paris, and all the rest, would come into New York, Boston, and Halifax to take troops overseas. The ships would be loaded to the gills and painted an ugly gray, but not one of the great ones was sunk.
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His oldest brother Robert had a rather atypical graduation from Cardinal Hayes HS in the Bronx. First of all, it was in January (1945). Now, this wasn’t too crazy–big schools back then often divided into two sections, and my Mom graduated HS in a February. What was crazy that when they were handed their diplomas, they left the auditorium and were taken in a bus up the Grand Councouse over to the still-impressive Kingsbridge Armory to be signed up for the Army. They then were dismissed for three days to say goodbye–and since he was going to the Pacific theater, it may very well have been goodbye–and then they had to report to be trained and sent to CA and more troopships. Dad recalls one of the few times he saw his mother cry was when she kissed Robert goodbye. The 18-year-old became a gunner and flew several missions before the war ended–he was going to be in the invasion of Japan, and his relatives knew that he was probably going to be shot down and die. Fortunately, the war ended and Robert ended up stationed in Japan and Hawaii for the duration. He also did not get home until 1946–last sent over came home last.
Overall, they both remember a sense of purpose and togetherness. They were too young to worry about certain issues, although Dad did remember that the Jewish folks in his neighborhood were saying that Hitler was really bad for Jews but even they didn’t know how bad. And the black students in Robert’s class were seemingly as eager to serve as he was, even though the army was segregated. That’s how united the country was.
At least in the eyes of a six and nine year old. And I don’t think they were that far wrong.
As for me, aside from the stories, I do remember Grand Central Terminal before the recent restoration (Jackie Onassis, bless you for starting it). The windows on top of the great concourse were all blurry. Grandma said they’d never bothered to remove the paint from WW2–for the blackouts.
Like a few others I was too young (would have been a preschooler only they weren’t around then,at least not a free public one my parents were aware of-they’d have made sure to get me in one to keep me out of their hair for awhile) 
But from that perspective these were my experiences.I thought war was the natural order of the world.Also anyone would give his right arm (as some did) to serve their country.Had 4 uncles,2 Army,1 Marine,1 Navy.Just 1 purple heart among them.An uncle with the push across the Rhine into Germany.His one experience he related to me was:He was in the unit that met up with the russians at the Elbe?
His commanding officer at the time said “There are the Russians-go over and shake hands if you want to-but they’re the next ones we’ll be fighting”.Another one he told me,tho sounds like urban legend to me,was of Russians staring in disbelief at a lightbulb,and unscrewing it to take back as war booty.The story goes the russkies thought they could attach it anywhere at home and make light.
This sounds like 40s era BS,since we were convinced most countries had nowhere near the civilized trappings we had like indoor plumbing and electricity.The French * pissaur * stories were enough to convince me.
Since I had 3 siblings and my father was in his 30s at the time,he wasn’t prime draft material,and he was in a “necessary for the war effort” field.
I remember bringing metal to scrap drives,the ration stamps and fibre tokens.Had to have those when I’d be sent to the store for butter or whatever.Kind of remember an “A” ration stamp in the windshield of the family’s old plymouth with the oval back window.Family drives were pretty scarce.
I remember one “air raid drill” (blackout) running up and down the stairs playing out a horror movie I must have seen in a recent Saturday matinee.Also remember the air raid wardens with their helmets on.
I remember the stars in the windows for family members serving in the warfronts,and a gold? one when one of those people were KIA.Wreaths seemed to be a fairly usual sight on neighborhood doors,which had nothing to do with christmas.
We had a memorial board up the street with the names of the wardead? or serving,from our political ward.
Also remember a patch of victory gardens on the next street over from me in '43.I never remember feeling deprived of food then,but at that age I ate just about anything placed in front of me,not having enough experience in the art of fine dining-I was 16 before I knew steak came in one piece
And that line is older than '43
My maternal grandfather served in the Army Air Force during the war. Unfortunately, he really didn’t talk about it, but he did keep a diary. I’m waiting for my aunt to finish it so I can transcribe it and have it bound. (I’d like for my son to have a piece of his namesake, and I’d like to donate a copy to the Eighth Air Force library.) My mom also has a war bond my great-gramma had.
Robin, grand-daughter of TSgt. Leonard Justin Kasimov, U.S. Army Air Force
Robin