Home Front #3

On the Home Front #3

Living on the east coast, we worried about the Nazi’s bombing us. I knew about the London blitz from newsreels and wondered if it would happen here. The Nazis could attack New York, sending bombers from air craft carriers in the Atlantic. After the war, I learned my fear was realistic. A small German two-man mini-sub had come ashore on a Long Island beach. The mother sub stealthily came close to the coast line, and launched the mini sub toward the shore. Authorities captured the German saboteurs and sent them to a Prisoner of War camp. They hushed the whole affair to avoid public panic. I wonder how many subs had succeeded.

            We had blackouts every night. We rolled down dark shades at every window before turning on a lamp. Air raid wardens, with red emblems on white Civil Defense arm bands, paraded the streets looking for any sign of light. Some wore helmets. When a warden saw a light, he blew a whistle and shouted out the location of the offender. “Third floor right” or “Second floor left” If the light remained, the warden rang the bell repeatedly and yelled “Douse that light. Don’t you know there’s a war on?”

            At school, during an air raid drill, we marched down to the basement, each class in a pre-assigned area. No lights, except sunlight streaming through the small high windows illuminating dancing dust motes in the air. We sat on the painted concrete floors, put our heads on our bent knees and prayed the rosary until the “all clear” signal.

 

            My parents loved to listen to news on the radio, especially Gabriel Heatter. He had a recognizable voice and his “Good Evening Ladies and Gentlemen. Ah, there’s good news tonight.” opened every broadcast. Even if the news was all bad, Gabriel found something positive to tell his audience. I objected to my parent’s obsession with the news. I wanted to listen to “Fibber McGee and Molly,” “Jack Benny” or my favorite, “Baby Snooks” with Fanny Brice.

Sister Dorothy, Father Andrew and me Mary...1941

            “Listen to the news. It will make you smarter,” Daddy said. “I’m smart enough,” I answered. Daddy laughed.

           I spent Saturday afternoons at the movies with other kids. The entire theater held screaming, candy eating, gum chewing, children  and showed four hours of film . . . two features, usually a cowboy picture and a war film, coming attractions, a cliff hanging serial, news reels, a short subject, and cartoons.

 
A white coated matron and red uniformed usher patrolled the aisles keeping order. They carried flashlights that they shined into the eyes of a rowdy kid. It usually quieted the loudmouth down but at times, they yanked a cut-up out of his seat and plopped him in another part of the theater.

....to be continued