A CHILD’S WARTIME EXPERIENCES
By Jo‑Ann Morrissey
On Sunday afternoon December 7, 1941, my mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner and my dad and I were m the living room, he reading the paper and I, barely four years old, was playing a wonderful game of singing and turning in circles until I got so dizzy I would fall down giggling, then get up and do it all over again.
The radio was on, but I was not listening. Suddenly, my father leaned over to turn the radio louder. He told me to be quiet, but I didn't react fast enough and he kicked me in the leg as he jumped up shouting or me to be quiet. Instead, I started to cry and soon my mother was there.
Daddy told her, "They bombed Pearl Harbor."
The next day my dad enlisted in the Army but was rejected because of a lung problem. He became more and more dejected as our relatives, friends and neighbors all shipped out. Finally, when the AlCan Highway was to be built through Canada, he signed on for that was gone for over a year. In the meantime, my mother went to work for Ford Motor Company which opened a new plant making war vehicles.
Rationing
Later there would be ration books for things like meat, sugar, coffee, gasoline and many other items. I was pleased to see that even I was given a book. We did not own a car, so my mother would trade with her friends, giving gasoline stamps for sugar or coffee. We also had Meatless Tuesdays, when all citizens were asked to forego meat on Tuesday in order to provide for the troops. This was doubly hard on us. As Catholics, we were already giving up meat on Fridays.
Mock Air Raids
There were Air Raid Wardens and Block Captains who would come to the house with instructions on what to do in case of an air raid. There were even mock air raids when we would practice what to do. Sirens would suddenly start. wailing and we would hurry to hang blankets over all of the windows, turn off all lights and light a small candle in one room only. We would have to wait for the block Captain to come in to see that we were doing things right and then listen for the All Clear signal.
When we would go outside after a mock raid, we would find paper bombs all over the streets and on top of cars and roofs. It was scary. We saw newsreels at the movies and were aware that other kids in other countries were being bombed by real bombs. We tried to help by collecting Coke bottles to return to the store for a 2‑cent deposit and giving the money to relief agencies.
Dog's Sacrifice
For a brief time we had a great black Chinese Chow dog named Ching. He loved us but did not seem to like anyone else and with my mom now working, Ching became a problem. My mother put her imagination to work. A letter arrived from the U.S. Government telling of a great need for large, intelligent dogs to serve with the troops and medics overseas, and ordering Ching to report for duty. My sister and I were devastated, but mom soon convinced us that our sacrifice was necessary. About six months later another letter ar-rived from Uncle Sam, this time informing us, regretfully, that Ching had been killed in action. There was even a certificate de-scribing Ching's heroic conduct in support of our soldiers and a ca-nine purple heart. Needless to say, pride overtook our grief and my sister and I never tired of telling everyone about our soldier dog. Mom should have written for Hollywood.
Back Porch Bombs
The kids in our neighborhood had a game we loved to play. We took large pop bottles and filled them with water, then put them in a paper bag and threw them over the back porch onto the cement gangway. It made a loud noise like a bomb and we would shout "Bombs Over Tokyo." Of course we always swept up afterward. We also sang this little song to the tune of Whistle While You Work from Snow White: Whistle while you work Cause Hitler is jerk Mussolini is a weenie Whistle while you work.
Best Birthday Party
The war ended on August 14, 1945, my mother's birthday. I was now eight years old. My sister and I had gone to the movies (it must have been a Sunday). When we got home no one was there. This was strange indeed. Finally, my mom and dad arrived in the cab of my dad's semi truck and called us to join them. We drove to 63 and Haisted, a busy shopping area on the South Side of Chicago. The streets were full of people laughing and kissing everyone. The truck was in a cavalcade on non-moving vehicles. My mother kept telling people it was her birth-day and what a present The cele-brating went on for hours but we never got out of the truck. We didn't have to. People were pass-ing food, candy and drinks around. We saw my uncle and many of our friends there. It seems the whole world came out that day to cele-brate VJ Day -- and my mom's birthday.
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