Fighting the enemy from the home front.

I was 5 yrs. old when the Japenese attacked Pearl Harbor. Jerry was 7. As our older brothers were drafted and sent to training camps and then to duty stations across the seas, we knew we were at war. My sister joined the WAC's and eventually ended up in Italy and Egypt. Mike ended up on a supply island in the New Hebrides and Don was in the artillary through the Normandy invasion to the Battle of the Bulge and on until the wars end. Gene entered the Navy as the war was winding down. That left Jerry and me to handle the home front. We played war every day after school and all summer long through the duration. We fought the germans and Japs both on the ground and in the air. The barns hay mow was our Bomber. We were mostly side gunners or Bombadiers. We blew many an enemy plane out of the sky before we eventually got shot down and had to bail out into the hay below. We always held our breath when we jumped. Dont know why, just seemed like the thing to do. I know the folks worried a lot about the kids in the war. We prayed the rosary for them every night. We were too little to know how deeply worried they were ,as were countless other Moms and Dads across our Nation. I remember one day Dad telling Mom what some thoughtless person had said to him one day. He said George it wouldn't be so bad if you lost a son in this war because you have a big family. My dad told him; We dont love one child less than another. There were many parents that lost children in that war in our little town. Albert Koci and his brother were aboard the same ship when it was sunk .Albert survived but his brother was trapped below decks and was lost. Chuck Nacke flew a P 38 and his plane dissapearedover New Guiney. They were flying on radio silence so no one in the squadron knew what happened. There was a Baily, a McGovern, a Wilmore, and many others from our town and county. Our folks always went to see these families and offer them what comfort they could give. I'm sure they spent many sleepless nights worrying about and praying for their children. I remember the censored letters. Anything the service person sent home was typed like a telegram and anything the censor felt would be of aid to the enemy would be blacked out in case the mail was captured. I think they called it V-Mail. Mike told the folks to think of the third person of the Blessed Trinity so dad figured out he was on the Hebrides island called Espiritu Santo which means the Holy Spirit. Don told of a beautiful church in the town he had passed through. Dad had seen the same church in France in World War one. Dad kept a map of the western front on the wall and would follow the news where ever the army was fighting. Don was in Pattons Army so he was in the worst battles. He said a lot of them were wounded but never called for the medics and would patch themselves up the best they could because if the medic found them in critical shape they would frequently give them overdoses of morphine to stop the pain which would often lead to death. Remember, there were no evacuation helicopters or any other way to get to safety. That war dragged on for years. There was no rotation of troops. You served for the duration. Not so many months and you go home. I remember my friends dad who served aboart the Aircraft Carrier Enterprise which was battered by gunships and Kamikazi pilots in the Pacific and nearly sank before being towed to safety telling my dad that he never expected to see land again, much less the United States. It was well known among Navy personel that if you had to abandon ship and you were picked up by a Japenese ship you would be beheaded, or else they would shoot you in the water. There is nothing glamerous about war. They should never be fought without first trying everything possible to talk out your differences. Sadly thats not always the case. Wars are best fought in the imagininations of little kids like we fought them on the acerage. And after the battle we would go in the house,wash our hands, eat supper,pray the rosary, and go to bed and sleep with one eye open hopeing those German prisoners a few blocks away dont decide to escape this night and murder us in our beds.

Old Irish