THE WAR
THE WAR | PBS
I just finished watching "The War" on PBS--another Ken Burns documentary. Once again, just like after watching "The Civil War," I am altered somehow by knowing more about World War II.
It's not that I know nothing about the war, and it certainly wasn't for lack of trying. My uncle Claude survived the invasion of the Philippines, only to be peppered with shrapnel by a grenade and listed as missing in action for several months. His finger was deformed from the event, and as a little girl I would ask him, "What happened to your finger?" He would always laugh, then say, "Well, I sucked on it too much as a baby." I believed him for a while, until I was old enough to know better. Then he told me about the grenade, but nothing else. Not being MIA, not the fighting, not the Philippines, nothing. Else. Period.
I had another Uncle at Pearl Harbor. Not talked about much, really. Same with my husband's uncle, also at Pearl Harbor, then later a bomber pilot over Dresden. No one talked about The War. And I guess it's that overwhelming decency of the people who had to do this horrible stuff that they wouldn't want you to know how terrible it was...that you living your happy American life was what they wanted, what they fought for, and was perhaps the best repayment for the misery and loss of those years.
I have a flag, sturdy cotton, with 48 stars. I bought it at a garage sale in 1994 I think. The woman I bought it from told me it flew over a ship in the Pacific Theatre during The War, but didn't know much else. I was proud to own it. I hung it out on my little house in Kansas during all the holidays. After two years of this, it became faded on one side, and I stopped hanging it outside. It is folded into a tight triangle in my closet right now.
I treasured it before, but now I love it so much more. It has suddenly taken on another dimension that it never had before. I'm so grateful for my ridiculous American life, and the freedom I've had to pursue happiness, and even catch it at times. The world came so close to total evil, and the people that fought it off, that gave so much to hold out for good against horrible suffering, fought under a flag with 48 stars.
I won't pretend the world is much better at this point, nor will I think any less of the sacrifice of American lives going on right now (because life matters and war is not always necessary), but what I am, what I have in this world can only be attributed to the veterans of The Second World War.
I just finished watching "The War" on PBS--another Ken Burns documentary. Once again, just like after watching "The Civil War," I am altered somehow by knowing more about World War II.
It's not that I know nothing about the war, and it certainly wasn't for lack of trying. My uncle Claude survived the invasion of the Philippines, only to be peppered with shrapnel by a grenade and listed as missing in action for several months. His finger was deformed from the event, and as a little girl I would ask him, "What happened to your finger?" He would always laugh, then say, "Well, I sucked on it too much as a baby." I believed him for a while, until I was old enough to know better. Then he told me about the grenade, but nothing else. Not being MIA, not the fighting, not the Philippines, nothing. Else. Period.
I had another Uncle at Pearl Harbor. Not talked about much, really. Same with my husband's uncle, also at Pearl Harbor, then later a bomber pilot over Dresden. No one talked about The War. And I guess it's that overwhelming decency of the people who had to do this horrible stuff that they wouldn't want you to know how terrible it was...that you living your happy American life was what they wanted, what they fought for, and was perhaps the best repayment for the misery and loss of those years.
I have a flag, sturdy cotton, with 48 stars. I bought it at a garage sale in 1994 I think. The woman I bought it from told me it flew over a ship in the Pacific Theatre during The War, but didn't know much else. I was proud to own it. I hung it out on my little house in Kansas during all the holidays. After two years of this, it became faded on one side, and I stopped hanging it outside. It is folded into a tight triangle in my closet right now.
I treasured it before, but now I love it so much more. It has suddenly taken on another dimension that it never had before. I'm so grateful for my ridiculous American life, and the freedom I've had to pursue happiness, and even catch it at times. The world came so close to total evil, and the people that fought it off, that gave so much to hold out for good against horrible suffering, fought under a flag with 48 stars.
I won't pretend the world is much better at this point, nor will I think any less of the sacrifice of American lives going on right now (because life matters and war is not always necessary), but what I am, what I have in this world can only be attributed to the veterans of The Second World War.
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