Wednesday, May 9, 2001
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Wednesday, May 9, 2001 |
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Violence at the end of the war By
SALLIE SATTERTHWAITE
At last, victory in Europe. The Atlanta Journal, May 7, 1945: GERMANS SURRENDER SIGNED AT ALLIED HEADQUARTERS. As a child, I heard Lowell Thomas reporting on the war, sensed the anxiety of worried parents, learned why not a gleam of light could escape the house during air raid drills. I recently had the loan of a cache of old newspapers substantiation of the memories of the dwindling few who were adults in those wartime years and felt as though I had opened a paper time capsule. A reporter went to Union Station to interview arriving passengers first hearing the good news, "calmly at first, then with increasing jubilance." Men with lathered faces jumped from barber chairs to buy newspaper extras. Two German prisoners of war heard their MP guards talking about the news. One prisoner spoke English, and the guard turned to explain to him that his country had formally surrendered. By order of President Truman, liquor, wine and beer were not to be sold on V-E day and the following two days. There was other news: Eastern Air Line Profits Up 150 Pct, "... according to an announcement by Captain Eddie Rickenbacker, president and general manager. ..." A week later appeared a short story about Charles Jones, 15, son of Mr. and Mrs. W. B. Jones of Fairburn becoming an Eagle Scout. His brothers Billy and Forrest were overseas with the Navy. An Atlanta Constitution ad described a rather tacky-looking pair of $5 wedgies as "non-rationed gay casuals." Most of the classifieds I looked at were less blatantly racist than I'd have expected. Perhaps advertising for a "girl" or a "boy" for menial jobs was the code of the mid-century South. An ad for a secretary stipulated an unmarried woman "who knows bookkeeping and stenography. Salary commensurate with ability, efficiency and personality. Address in personal handwriting giving education, use of tobacco, religion, home affiliations, age, height, weight" to a P.O. box. Death was segregated, one section of obits tagged "colored," the rest undesignated. I couldn't help noticing a dearth of self-help columns like those that fill our papers with advice on raising kids, manners and ethics. There was, however, a prediction by columnist Dorothy Dix that the divorce rate would soar after the euphoria of military homecomings had worn off. Women had learned to cope without men, had even discovered that they could fill traditionally male jobs. Many marriages rushed through in the passion of the moment would crumble for want of a sure foundation. Moreover, she opined, divorced women were going to find out that while they may attract men by their worldliness, few would want to marry them, especially if they had a child tagging along. Another prediction was that radar would have peacetime application, making sea and air travel safer in the post-war world. There was no mention of its use by police in monitoring traffic. The comics included Captain East, Donald Duck, Alley Oop, Mandrake, Abbie and Slats, Li'l Abner, Nancy, Ella Cinders and others. At last, August 1945, and the war was over. The Call Bulletin, a now-defunct San Francisco daily, screamed: M'Arthur Takes Over! Gas Rationing Ended "Iron Fist" Rule for Japs. The news that "the Japs capitulate and accept terms of peace" was greeted with local celebrations so riotous that seven people died. Some were run down by careening cars. A couple burned to death after passing out with lit cigarettes. A car was smashed on a railroad crossing. A sailor fell down an open stairwell. There was a picture of a woman smiling from her Seattle hospital bed, holding twins she had delivered on V-J day. She named them Vic and Jay, even though Vic was a little girl. The babies' daddy was a private at Camp Roberts, Calif. National church leaders issued statements and prayers expressing thanksgiving and calling for the Allies to be merciful in victory, to "rebuild ruined cities and to house the homeless." This sentiment took hold in the American people and ignited support for the Marshall Plan. Then-New York Archbishop Francis Spellman published a prayer for peace "in obedience to thy laws. Thou callest us to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to defend man's rights and God's rights to win back men's hearts to thee and make man worthy of thy trust in him by man's trust in thee." Previously classified information became public almost immediately. The Call Bulletin revealed that 230 paper balloons from Japan had floated to the West Coast, from Alaska to Mexico and as far east as Michigan, carrying bombs and incendiary devices. In fact, a book published by the Smithsonian Institution Press in 1973 indicates that the Japanese released more than 9,000 hot air balloons between November 1944 and the following April. Nearly 1,000, intended to wreak havoc on cities, forests, and farmlands, reached North America. "Except for killing six persons who tampered with a bomb near Lakeview, Oregon, perhaps causing two small fires [in some woods and in a turkey farm] and diverting manpower for investigation and control, the balloons flopped badly as a war weapon," the paper reported. Tragically, those who died were children and a minister's wife on an outing, killed when a curious contraption they hauled out of some woods exploded. The last balloon found was in Alaska in 1955, its payload still lethal. Hundreds more were never found. U.S. strategy to keep Japan from knowing of the bombs' effectiveness succeeded. Having learned of only one bomb reaching its target in Wyoming and failing to explode, the Japanese stopped launching them. The press was credited for its contribution to national security by what it did not publish. Colu |
