I was born into a world tired and worn from war. World War II began, and was officially declared, on September 1, 1939, when Germany invaded Poland at the ungodly hour of 4:44 a.m. Over the next six years, country after country either formally declared war, or was declared upon (in one way or another) leaving no continent, save Antarctica, untouched. Interestingly, (keep this in your pocket for your next Trivia competition) the last declaration of WWII occurred on August 8,1945, when the Soviet Union formally announced against Japan. Since the U.S. had already dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima (August 6th), Russia's declaration seems a bit gratuitous, not to mention, late. We would drop another bomb on Nagasaki the next day, vaporizing a total number of souls somewhere in excess of 200,000. WWII formally ended on September 2, 1945, when the Japanese signed surrender papers aboard the USS Missouri. The Germans had surrendered the previous May, leaving most of Europe (East and West) in ruins.
Dodge City, Kansas, didn't escape the fallout from WWII. Daddy, for example, was an Air-Raid Warden for our block. Maybe even beyond our block. I'm sure he realized that danger to his home and hearth from Japanese or German bombers was minimal, but being a warden gave men much too old for the draft a reason to live and a sense of worth during those years. Daddy was 35 when war was declared, 41 when it ended. I don't know if he was recruited to be a warden, or volunteered. I know Mom thought it was hilarious and, while he was making rounds to assure that all lights were off, windows blacked-out and etc...she sat on the front porch, smoking her Lucky Strikes, lighting up cigarette after cigarette (with matches, for God's sake) waiting for him to come home. We were all lucky she wasn't arrested on suspicion of signaling enemy bombers in the dead of night.
While Mother was risking life and limb (for everyone) with those cigarettes on the front porch, Daddy patiently walked his route, ringing doorbells if the slightest bit of light could be seen from the sidewalk. Occasionally, he would be invited into one or another of the houses in question...to remedy that light problem of course, and maybe, to enjoy a little shot of bourbon as payment for services rendered. Some nights it took Daddy a very long time to make his rounds, and the "All Clear" signal would find him, quite happily, weaving his way home.
WWII was such a part of my early childhood, I think it was impossible not to be affected by it. And, I'm talking about everyone. Conversations began, "During the war..." or "When the war was going on..." I'm sure I heard that nearly every day. I was told over and over again how Daddy, on the day I was born, rushed to whichever governmental agency issued Ration Books, to receive an additional book for his bouncing baby girl. Many foods were rationed--sugar, coffee, meat, cheese, canned milk, bacon, lard, and on and on. Servicemen here and overseas got first dibs on food (as well they should), and the remainder was carefully doled out. I'm told that Daddy's first purchases with that new ration book were sugar and coffee, turning me into a true gift from heaven.
Tires were also rationed, rubber being needed for the war effort; while automobile production came to a screeching halt when factories retooled to produce vehicles for the military. Considering Daddy worked for his two brothers who owned Weigel Brothers Chrysler-Plymouth, times were tough. I have no idea how they made a living during those years, but we all survived. I know Daddy made runs to Detroit, returning with the dealership's allotment of new and used tires, plus an occasional used car or truck to sell. He and Mother made it work. Everyone made it work. It's what we humans do when we have to.
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