Echoes from the Past

By Sten Gould

As an ex-GI, shopping for some meaning in my seventh decade, I was drawn to the three journals I had kept during World War II. In these yellowing pages, still covered and protected with 1944 brown paper grocery bags, I had hoped to find something about my youth that would, perhaps, illuminate and even explain the exciting journey I am, at the moment, slowly completing. Surprisingly, rereading my teen-age entries (written in blue-black Watermans ink and with lots of misspelling), this older edition was buoyed-up by the sensitivity and insight of his youthful counterpart.

When the war in Europe ended, and with our military converted to an Army of Occupation, we young kids in uniform had to make rapid psychological adjustments. Our focus changed from serving our country to, possibly, serving our own needs?

Sexuality rapidly rose to first place. The German girls were beautiful. Why fight it? I fell in love with a young woman whom my family would consider a Nazi. (Wasnt every German a Nazi?) What was I going to do when I got back? Bring my girlfriend? Tell my Jewish parents and friends in the Bronx that despite the death camps the Germans could still be pretty nice, intelligent people...even loveable?

Young people reading this book will be impressed by how the thoughts of an 18-year old in 1944 are still vitally significant today. Older folks might learn to re-connect with the kid still within them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 2, 2000
• ISBN: 9781462090051

Book preview

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Days of Innocence—The End of Youth

Chapter 2

1945

Chapter 3

The Fatherland

Chapter 4

Beginning the Occupation to VJ Day

Chapter 5

Digging In

Chapter 6

The Road Home

Chapter 7

Getting It All Together

Epilogue

Introduction

JANUARY 24, 1944

Perhaps one of the most important days of my life. Graduated from high school today with the folks at the ceremony. Pop left for Florida, on business, after the graduation. It would be a long time before I would see him again because I would be in the army well before he came back. Went downtown with my brother, Sid, and enlisted in the army.

Those were my words, frozen in time, when I was almost eighteen and about to step from childhood into what I then imagined would be my manhood. Like many World War II veterans, I still remember my wartime experiences 5 decades later. Did my memories and my feelings still reflect the 18-year-old who wrote down his thoughts and observations throughout his army service?

Chapter 1

Days of Innocence—The End of Youth

Aging is the pits. It’s not the bottomward acceleration that abrades and depresses but the realization that you are simply running out of days and nights and years of blessed time. Time to feel and love and think, create and dream and wonder… .wonder why I was made…what did I accomplish and for who or for what?

So I review my loyal account books. at least what I consider the authentic currency of my life…my journals and photos. It is the seventh decade of my life and I have to ascertain if I have enough assets left to finish a task that is unknown to me and that I have not done before. I entertain a perception that a certain chapter of my life has yet to be reached. I don’t want to believe that I was created merely to experience a lifetime of random destiny. I would prefer the less secular view that Someone Important had picked me out to do a job here on earth. Accordingly, I sense there is yet another rendezvous out there waiting for me; which may only indicate my fear of avoiding the effort of taking life into my own hands. (If I only knew what I truly wanted to do!)

My neighbor, just back from a vacation in New England, told me about ascending a mountain where he was able to see three states at the same time. My thoughts being elsewhere, for a brief moment I thought he was describing some religious experience he had perceived while on the summit. I was wrong. His states were indeed part of the USA. My states were all in my mind. I was still absorbed by the recent revisit through my World War II photos and diaries that I had kept during that era. Was I speculating, at that time, that my future would never be as exciting as my present and, some day, I might be interested in going off into the past?

At this age, I often speculate what my good old days were all about. Was I merely spinning my wheels as my history was unfolding? Was I doing to others deeds that were positive? Has my existence been worthwhile on some universal scale? Has my journey been any different from any one else’s struggle? Was my journey a success…and how do we define success? I suppose I have always questioned what one’s life is all about…what purpose do so many of us serve? Sure, it’s an age-old question but it would make so much sense if there was some heavenly explanation for both the worthy and tragic activity here on earth. Could you acknowledge the whole show to be just an accident. a Darwinian scenario and nothing more? What a letdown that would be. And with that possibility perhaps it would be best to remain in the dark.

I suspect the most we can hope for is to simply explore our own truth: Who am I? What is my potential? Where can I, realistically, go from here? What is my significance to those around me? Could our search for self-acceptance be the underlying mechanism that drives all our questioning?

The old diaries contained so much of the young me, the recognizable scribbling. frozen thoughts in blue Waterman Ink. The touch of the worn journals made me feel nostalgic. The diary itself was a five by seven-inch book that contained three hundred and sixty five dated pages with clever quotations on the bottom of each page.

(In great attempts it is glorious even to fail—LONGINUS)

(Adversity is the first path to truth—BYRON)

Today just holding them transports me to another time and place. I had covered the DAILY AIDE or THE SILENT SECRETARY, as they were called, with ordinary brown paper from grocery bags. There was not much to buy during the war.

Pasted into the journals are also the black and white photographs of a youth that I can still love, and with some imagination, sort of resembles me today.

Monday, Jan 24, 1944

Perhaps one of the most important days of my life. Graduated [from] high school today with the folks at my grad. Pop went to Florida after the graduation. It was the last time I was to see him because I left for the Army before he returned. I went downtown with [my brother], Sid, and enlisted in the army.

(The most difficult thing in life is to know yourself——Thales)

[All diary entries are written in Bold Print and copied exactly, (even with the errors), as they appear in the journal.]

Friday, February 4, 1944, Leaving Home

"Left for Alfred University, in upper New York State. The train ride was eight and one half hours long but not too tiring. Had an excellent meal en-route. On arrival our trunks were taken by truck to the college and we jogged two miles to the school. After another excellent meal we were given our bedding. Carrying the 30 pounds of bedding at arms length caused my arms to ache for the next two days. A newly filed tooth was also acting up.

Hy, [my brother-in-law], had taken us down to the ferry. It was cold crossing over and I actually felt a little sick from the tossing ferry. When we left, mom acted like a major. She put up a great front.

And so I left my home, devoid of all feelings."

I often wonder at what age do we instantly learn to turn our feelings switch into the off position? I think the day I left for the army had to have been that moment in my life. I had never been away from home before, even for a week. Something inside mysteriously kicks in when the

mind senses the possibility of a malfunction. The design within warns us to jump into a new mode, and I suspect that I stayed locked into that style much longer than necessary.

Saturday, Feb 21, 1944, US Army, Alfred Univ.

My arm was feeling much better today. [After a typhoid injection] Had gym with no bad effect. Today we learned that the ASTP [Army Specialized Training Program] will be drastically cut. We will be allowed to finish the school year but guys from the regular army will have to get back to their outfits by April 1. The Sgt. said that after our Basic Training we will be whisked overseas so fast we wouldn’t be able to read the name of the boat. I didn’t like that. After retreat, the Major verified all that I just wrote.

We received the following official notification a bit later:

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Monday, Feb 22, 1944, US Army, Alfred Univ.

"Well, ‘today I am a man,’ at least an eighteen year old man. Just had breakfast and the boys sang ‘happy birthday’ to me. It’s different having my birthday away from my family. No one actually knows me. Although I’ve been in the army about a month, I think I’m losing my ability to know my own feelings. I think I’m beginning to feel only what the army wants me to feel!

(Ideas control the world—Garfield)

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I wondered what conversation would take place if I were to meet the young fellow of over fifty years ago. Would we have very much to discuss since many of my early philosophies were so similar to those I support

today? Certainly, I would not have the courage or the stupidity to repeat some of the foolish decisions I had made in my youth. (At least, we could argue about the wisdom or merits of some of the often-thoughtless things I had done.)

Saturday, March 11, 1944 Alfred University

"Took a history test this morning where we had all the answers. Someone gave us copies of the exam yesterday. (No one gives us physics or math exams. Darn!)

There was a big basket ball game this evening in our school gym. People came from as far away as 90 miles. All the cars made me think of New York City. At about midnight when all the cars started to leave and toot their horns I awoke from my sleep and thought, for sure, that I was back in The Bronx. I was really disappointed when I realized where I was."

Saturday, March 18, 1944 Alfred University

"Just finished our monthly trig. test which I think I did well on. Hooray, the sun finally broke through. I hope it stays out long enough for our 26-mile, punishment, hike. (The Lt. was unhappy with our platoon.)

The most amazing thing just happened. Marching time came around and I was all prepared. I had greased my boots, put on two pairs of socks, powdered my feet, made sure nature wouldn’t call, ate some biscuits for extra energy and lined up my platoon. The Lt., all dressed for the march, told us we would have to ‘double time’ most of the 26 miles or we wouldn’t come back in time for mess…which would be TS. He gave us a ‘Left Face,’ which we all followed. Then he called out ‘Forward!’—but the word ‘March’ never came. He faced us right again and said we were dismissed because our barracks was now very clean. You should have heard the surprised remarks. We were absolutely flabbergasted. It was a perfect ruse right up to the very happy end.

Monday, April 24, 1944 Alfred University

"Classes today were boring. Every teacher reviewed for the coming Thursday and Friday tests.

We had our last physic’s lab class today and that’s that. We’re all so burned out from studying and exams and all the pressure.

Said ‘so long’ to the teachers and just left. Told them I might even come back! Who knows?

Went dancing with Mary, came back early and studied trig."

[Below: Mary, Stem and Janice] Took Mary to her prom. It was also the very first prom I had ever attended. I had to borrow money from my family in order to buy Mary a corsage as well as some clothing articles for myself. But it was all very well worth it. We all had a marvelous time.

I suppose that at the age of seventeen or eighteen there is so much still to accomplish that most of us, unless there are very strong attractions, simply drift apart.

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Wednesday, April 26, 1944

Great! Great! Great! News. The Lt. just told us we will be leaving Saturday morning, on a 15 day furlough! Damned if I know what I’ll do with so much time—yeah. It’s like getting out of prison.

The Lt. gave us a send-off speech. ‘Hope you get to kill plenty of Japes and Germans. I just sent in an application for overseas and I’ll probably be seeing you there. Have a damn F-time in New York because you won’t see it again for a long time.’ We all yelled back, ‘Hooray for 2nd Lt. Byron’ and ran back to our rooms like mad men. We changed into civilian clothes since we have to hand in our army stuff tonight."

[I do not know what became of 2nd Lt. Byron. I hope he came home in good condition]

Thursday and Friday, April 27 and 28, 1944 Alfred Univ.

"Took 6 hours of Physics, English and History on Thursday. We were even given a ‘short-arm’ test for which I didn’t have to study. Mary brought her camera and took some pictures of me. She said she wanted ‘to frame me.’

On Friday we took 6 hours of Math, Chemistry and Geography. Called home after all the exams and spoke to mom. She was tackled pink. I couldn’t wait to get home."

Saturday, April 29, 1944, Alfred Univ.-New York City

"What a day. We got our ration books back. The Lt. had our trunks taken to the station by truck and we marched to the station. A few of the professors, Mrs. Wingate, Sgt. Rosenthal and Lt. Byron were all at the station to see us off. It was really a beautiful gesture. We left Alfred at 1130 hours and arrived in Jersey City 2130 hours. Took a ferry across the Hudson and then the subway to Allerton Avenue. Boy it was good to be home.

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Those ASTP students who came to the University from the Army and had already taken Basic Training were immediately sent back to military units going overseas. Unfortunately, many of these ASTP soldiers were sent to Paratrooper Units. The casualty rates were very high.

The ASTP students coming from civilian life, like myself, were sent into the regular army as soon as the term ended. Many were given Basic Training, put into infantry units, and immediately sent overseas.

The Sgt. was quite right when he said that after our Basic Training we will be whisked overseas so fast we wouldn’t be able to read the name of the boat. I guess I was luckier than most. I was sent to the Signal Corps for additional training.

Rereading the diary I was astonished by the amount of energy I possessed at that age. Having reveille at four-forty five during Basic Training, continuing the day with strenuous hikes and rifle range exercises and finally, after supper, running for a bus which took us into town for a USO dance. How I wished that I might have a quarter of that youthful energy. Yet, I understand, as well as regret, that that boy-image of over fifty years ago is, today, simply an illusion, as cold and as vital as the long gone Civil War soldiers dolefully looking into Mathew Brady’s camera.

Notwithstanding, what would the young guy think of me as I am today? Would he cry? Would he laugh? Obviously, my physical condition is not the same. Could the young version look up to the person he had become? Would he be disappointed? Could we be good friends?

I closed the albums and journals. Although riveting, reviewing history, particularly your own, can be both exhilarating and exhausting. I decided to go into town for the morning coffee klatch with my friends.

Dan, Marvin and