Remembering what unity was like in a time of division
EDITOR’S NOTE: Bill Shepard’s columns have been absent from the newspaper for months because he is writing a book and is putting his time into that project. He took time to write this column for us.
By Bill Shepard
It was a wonderful time in America! Patriotism flowed like rivers of water in the streets. It was felt in the air that we breathed and heard in the voices that spoke. It was in this writer’s opinion America’s bravest hour, and I was fortunate to have a small part in it. America’s strength, bravery and loyalty were on display for all the world to see. It was indeed a great moment in America. The homeland had been attacked and was fighting back. It might have been the movie that I was watching that triggered the urge for me to write. It was an emotional movie about our Marines fighting the Japanese in the Philippines. The movie portrayed the suffering, sacrifice and bravery of the Marines as they fought against great odds. “From the Halls of Montezuma” was a classic on late-night TV. I hope to see it again! Afterward, I turned off the TV and sat quietly, lost in my thoughts. Scenes and words from recent news reports were playing over in my mind. As I listened, questions began to form and I wondered aloud, “What is happening to America? Why is our America so divided? What has happened to common decency and respect for one another?” Common courtesy seems no longer a part of American politics. America the Beautiful has been said by some to have become America the Ugly and is on display not just here at home but around the world. Quietness had settled over the room, and I allowed my mind to drift back to another time that some have never known, and some seem to have forgotten. And so, I write. Dec. 7, 1941, a day that President Roosevelt said would live in infamy, was a beautiful day. A hush had fallen over the room where a group of young folks had met to listen to the music, coming from the jukebox sitting in one corner of the room. As you’ve read before in my writings, Lessie’s Place was a popular meeting place for the young at heart to gather. On this morning there were several young men in their military uniforms. One of those men was my older brother. He was home from Fort Bragg, N.C., where he was stationed. The jukebox had been silenced and all eyes and ears were focused on the small radio on a shelf nearby. The voice from the radio kept repeating the same message – the Japanese are attacking Pearl Harbor! The announcement was being made over and over. Then: “All military personnel are asked to return to their base immediately.” The men in uniform began to leave; questions were racing through their minds and there were no answers. That evening I watched my brother gather his few belongings and head for the door. I had watched this scene before, but this time was different; this time we were at war! I listened to Mama’s sobbing long after his departure. World War II for America had begun. The American Navy fleet lay smoldering in the harbor at Hawaii. The enemy had prepared well for this moment and America was caught sleeping. A sober and embarrassed president declared that the enemy would pay. It would be a fight to the finish, and nothing less than an unconditional surrender would be accepted. The years ahead were costly, in lives, bloodshed and sacrifice, but the world would see the greatness of America and her willingness to pay whatever the cost to defend the homeland. Remember Pearl Harbor and go on to victory became America’s marching orders, her battle cry! On every streetcorner, a cardboard Uncle Sam stood with a finger pointed at everyone passing by with the words “Uncle Sam needs you!” It worked! They came, yes, they came. They came from the fields, factories, far and near. Recruiting offices were crowded with those eager to enlist. They came and they went. Many never returned. This writer was a young man still in my teens. I envied every man I saw in uniform. I could wait no longer. Three months after Pearl Harbor, Feb. 18, 1942, along with three other young men (Don, Earl, Charles), I enlisted and went away to serve. Don spent years inside a German prison camp. I keep a picture of him that was in a newspaper, along with the story of his imprisonment. The words “The High Cost of Freedom” are in bold print. I often wonder what Don and others like him would think if they could see and hear the news – the turmoil being spread today. I will soon celebrate my 100th birthday. I have lived through wars and skirmishes aplenty, but never have I witnessed such division in my country as is seen and heard today. “Divide and conquer!” may still be true! — Straight ahead, Bill
