Memories of World War II     By Ruth Myer

          Most old-timers love nostalgia. I am included in that lot. I lived through World War II and have many memories of those years though I was just a young girl. 

           In 1942 I was in the third grade in Carneys Point, New Jersey, a town near the DuPont Chemical plant where gun powder and
war supplies were made. Our school was a brick building and we had bomb drills regularly. We marched by class down to the basement 
and sat on the concrete floor against the wall with the lights out until the all-clear bell would sound.  

            During the summer our family stayed in a cottage on the beach at Sea Isle City for a two-week vacation.  At night we pulled
down blackout shades on the windows. One morning my sister and I went out on the beach and got tar-covered feet. My mother rubbed
our feet clean with turpentine. We later learned that our U.S. Coast Guard sank a Japanese submarine off the south Jersey shore 
during the night. It didn’t register until later in life that while we slept; our young men were out there in the sea risking their lives for 
our safety.

           During the war there was food rationing. My folks would trade food stamps with neighbors to get what we wanted.  Butter was 
scarce so margarine was introduced but it was white. It came with little packets to color it yellow. 

            There was no TV but we all sat in a circle around the radio to listen. “There’s good news tonight. It's all over, folks.  World War II 
is officially over," Gabriel Heatter announced in his inimitable style August14, 1945. V-J Day was one of the most exciting days of my 
pre-teen life. 

            America, England and Russia had been at war with Germany, Japan and Italy for four long years.  Many American teenage boys 
had fought in the war and been killed.  Now it was over and many more boys and fathers could come home to their families.  No more f
ood rations and white margarine!  

            It was afternoon when the news came.  My mother boarded a bus to Philadelphia to celebrate and I pleaded to go so convincingly, 
she took me along.

            Once in Philadelphia, I was mesmerized by the excitement.  Broad Street, a 4-lane road, 10 miles long, was jammed with a moving
mass of cheering celebrants marching in an impromptu parade along with one wide-eyed 11-year old storing up audio-visual memories – 
of shouting, singing, confetti, balloons, girls kissing servicemen, the neon-lighted newscast on the news building ahead, the unity of purpose, 
the feeling of belonging, the American patriotism!  It was all there – big time!  History in the making – a once-in-a-lifetime experience. 

 Ruth’s article was printed in her local paper and then in the Smithsonian Magazine.

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