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World events are powerful memory triggers. The following answers one "Where were you when..." question. On December 8, 1941, life changed for everyone. On Monday, Gene and I were in Mr. Schellenbarger's math class when we heard President Roosevelt on the loud speaker denounce the Japanese, calling December 7th a "day that will go down in infamy." We had declared war on Japan. It was my 12th birthday. Because of its location on the West Coast, Olympia, was seen as a potential target for bombers or submarines. At night all the windows had to have blackout curtains on them. Citizens took turns showing up for Air Raid watches. The mood was tense. An air raid watchtower was set up on top of the capitol dome. Gene’s mom was a volunteer spotter. The town began to fill with cute young sailors and soldiers. Gene’s sister, Dot, was a hostess at the USO. His brother, Gordon, joined the Navy. All the available young men were signing up. Fear was mixed with outrage and a sense of pride. People flocked to the movie theaters to see pictures of the devastation at Pearl Harbor. Life magazine sold out immediately. We'd listen to the evening news on the radio for latest reports. The war seemed endless and the news worse with each new day. And then there was rationing. Butter went to the military and we “supported the troops” by buying strange looking plastic bags with something white inside that looked like lard. To camouflage the stuff, supposedly making it look and taste like “butter,” we’d break a capsule of dye and squeeze and squeeze to mix in the color. It never did taste good. Canned Spam became popular. Meat, sugar and coffee were rationed. We collected scrap metal and saved aluminum—even gum wrappers. Gasoline was a scarce commodity and was rationed. Convoys of tanks and military vehicles rolled through town regularly. Sounds of mortar fire from tanks at Ft. Lewis could be heard in the distance. With radio as our main news source, we listened eagerly to hear, “This is Edward R. Murrow, reporting from London.” He gave us confidence that things were okay, even though air raid sirens could often be heard in the background. President Roosevelt gave Fireside Chats to reassure the country. Movie theaters played newsreels along with the feature films. Our world had changed. Later, as the war dragged on, we laughed and danced behind blacked out windows to "Coming In on a Wing and a Prayer" and "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition;" but in 1941 my small world felt dangerous and uncertain, and I wondered whether I'd ever have another birthday. |