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Hello all, I just watched the recently released DVD, 'Fortress'. This movie has to do with a short period in the life of a B-17 bomber crew during the North African campaign in late 1943.
Like most of you, I suppose, my father was a soldier in WWII. He served in the Pacific campaign as a medic, and my uncle as a aerial gunnery instructor.
Though I wish that my father or uncle had served in a more dramatic role, the truth is that they did serve well in a heroic situation. All who served were farm boys, or city kids, and none were accomplished warriors who could take down an enemy by sheer force or cunning. They were, in short, just like you and I.
When the draft was instituted in 1942, none were prepared. This country had just gone through some hard years after the great depression, and the last thing we needed was a war.
But there it was. When the Japanese bombers hit Pearl Harbor, we were into the war right away.
Fortunately, the U.S. had anticipated some of this possibility, and though we were not prepared, we did have plans in waiting.
Some of the early machinery fell short of the task- the early vehicles provided by Detroit did well, but were not quite flexible enough for battlefield work. The airplanes, such as the P-40, and the B-17, were strong but not visionary or long-lasting.
This film deals with this situation, at that time.
Not so long ago; just a generation ago, we were warriors. We were not the flawless soldiers of the video games or the movies, no, rather we were just kids. Kids raised on a farm, or raised in cities, playing with our friends in the street. Kids who grew up in Brooklyn playing stick ball, kids out west, on a ranch, whose families had nothing.
We, these ragged, barely clothed kids, grew up to fight a new war. Our aunts and uncles worked in the wartime factories, making the material, the clothing, the airplanes, the trucks that would meet the challenge. Everyone contributed something. Metal was collected wherever it could be found. Rags were made into new clothing. Even spiderwebs were collected for compass and bomb sights. Through all this industry, we met the challenge.
The engineers in America, both self-schooled and university trained, designed what was needed.
Through all this effort, we prevailed.
This film is a snapshot of that era, a painful reminder of the horrors that our fathers and grandfathers went through. Though they may not have spoken of it, we can know through these movies a bit of what it was really like.
I can assure you, it was ****.
As we restore these trucks, as we reenact these times, let us not forget the truth of the matter: these were times of fury. Of boredom. Of fighting. Of great suffering.
They were not sweet times, remembered for their halcyon bliss.
Between the boredom and the chaos, they were ****.
Our parents lived these times. Let us honor them, and all their hard work. Let us not forget, as we roll out onto the field in our restored 1940s trucks, how dearly won was this day.
-Just my 2 cents.
-Remembering My Parents, Bill and Winnie; my Uncle Robert who met the challenge,
effortlessly, it seems, in that long lost time. Planes and buildings were built with a slide rule. Wars were won with sheer guts, not missiles. Trucks were driven without power steering.
How did they do it? Pretty amazing, to think of it.
My best wishes to you all, children of heroes. Please stay strong and don't forget the past, so dearly won by your parents.
Like most of you, I suppose, my father was a soldier in WWII. He served in the Pacific campaign as a medic, and my uncle as a aerial gunnery instructor.
Though I wish that my father or uncle had served in a more dramatic role, the truth is that they did serve well in a heroic situation. All who served were farm boys, or city kids, and none were accomplished warriors who could take down an enemy by sheer force or cunning. They were, in short, just like you and I.
When the draft was instituted in 1942, none were prepared. This country had just gone through some hard years after the great depression, and the last thing we needed was a war.
But there it was. When the Japanese bombers hit Pearl Harbor, we were into the war right away.
Fortunately, the U.S. had anticipated some of this possibility, and though we were not prepared, we did have plans in waiting.
Some of the early machinery fell short of the task- the early vehicles provided by Detroit did well, but were not quite flexible enough for battlefield work. The airplanes, such as the P-40, and the B-17, were strong but not visionary or long-lasting.
This film deals with this situation, at that time.
Not so long ago; just a generation ago, we were warriors. We were not the flawless soldiers of the video games or the movies, no, rather we were just kids. Kids raised on a farm, or raised in cities, playing with our friends in the street. Kids who grew up in Brooklyn playing stick ball, kids out west, on a ranch, whose families had nothing.
We, these ragged, barely clothed kids, grew up to fight a new war. Our aunts and uncles worked in the wartime factories, making the material, the clothing, the airplanes, the trucks that would meet the challenge. Everyone contributed something. Metal was collected wherever it could be found. Rags were made into new clothing. Even spiderwebs were collected for compass and bomb sights. Through all this industry, we met the challenge.
The engineers in America, both self-schooled and university trained, designed what was needed.
Through all this effort, we prevailed.
This film is a snapshot of that era, a painful reminder of the horrors that our fathers and grandfathers went through. Though they may not have spoken of it, we can know through these movies a bit of what it was really like.
I can assure you, it was ****.
As we restore these trucks, as we reenact these times, let us not forget the truth of the matter: these were times of fury. Of boredom. Of fighting. Of great suffering.
They were not sweet times, remembered for their halcyon bliss.
Between the boredom and the chaos, they were ****.
Our parents lived these times. Let us honor them, and all their hard work. Let us not forget, as we roll out onto the field in our restored 1940s trucks, how dearly won was this day.
-Just my 2 cents.
-Remembering My Parents, Bill and Winnie; my Uncle Robert who met the challenge,
effortlessly, it seems, in that long lost time. Planes and buildings were built with a slide rule. Wars were won with sheer guts, not missiles. Trucks were driven without power steering.
How did they do it? Pretty amazing, to think of it.
My best wishes to you all, children of heroes. Please stay strong and don't forget the past, so dearly won by your parents.
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