For most of my life, I journeyed alone in my passion for World War II history. In the solitude of my interest during my teenage years, I enjoyed playing big band songs by Glenn Miller while my friends swooned over Culture Club and Duran Duran.
In my twenties, I finished college and vividly recall a time when a B-17, the Nine-O-Nine, flew into our local airport offering rides at a fee that felt like a mortgage. Fortunately, there was a more affordable option. For $15.00, patrons could crawl through the aircraft and experience the confinement, aviation aroma, and imagination of what once was. I paid the admission with a few dollar bills and every last coin I could dig out of the seats of my car. WORTH! EVERY! PENNY!
For the next couple of decades, I managed to further my knowledge of this era through film, literature, and amazing friendships with veterans of the war. I consider myself to be one of the most fortunate individuals as I was given a gift of memory by many who actually lived it. They wanted to share their stories and be heard. But, like me, they felt alone. They were disappointed that few if any cared. (A recurring sentiment I continue to feel when attempting to speak of the war and this generation’s sacrifices.)
Incredibly, this began to change, and may I declare very rapidly starting in late 2016. My husband took me to the Victory Ball at the National World War II Museum in New Orleans. It was an evening like none other. We danced beneath a B-17 to the same tunes I enjoyed in high school with several hundred others who shared my love and respect for that generation and what they endured. No dialogue was necessary. Within that atmosphere, it was a given.
Then began my graduate school journey at Arizona State University seeking a degree in World War II Studies. I am grateful and honored to now hold the degree. However, what I treasure most are the friendships (brother and sisterhoods) that I now and will forever hold dear and belong to.
First, there are the Rosies - a group of phenomenal women from all over the United States who met and supported one another throughout the graduate program. Among us are Holocaust educators, an advocate for the lesser-known individual and minority struggles among those who served, a published author, and an archaeologist and artifact preservationist.
Secondly, there is Kaye Ackermann (below). Through a series of events that remain somewhat unexplained, our paths crossed. Our first gathering was several hours long. All we talked about was the war. The coincidences fell into place - one by one. We found out that my grandfather (90th Infantry Division) and her father (712th Tank Battalion) served together in the European Theater. As we continue our research, we are finding exact dates when they served in harsh and life-defining battles. The past is speaking to us and we are sharing it with others.
Lastly, is my friend Jason Ockrassa, US Park Ranger and historian at the U.S.S Arizona Memorial, Hawaii. He and I met by chance when I paid my respects at Pearl Harbor in May of 2021 aboard the Memorial. At the time there were roughly 125 individuals (globally either as graduates or current students) within the program at Arizona State. To say we were both shocked to find that we had that link in common was an understatement. I quickly learned that he held the same passion, respect, and determination to preserve the history of the Second World War. He, like the rest of those mentioned above, carries a responsibility inside to perpetuate the lessons of the war. He does so admirably.
I could continue on and on listing names of those I now call my WWII history family; Pierre-Samuel Natanson (France), Stefan Verholen (Germany), Pascal Kremer (Luxembourg), the Raiders, Kathy Bibey (my Mom and WWII best friend), etc. Each of these people has the same gleam in their eyes when they speak of World War II. We all agree there is much to learn and much more to be said.
In October 2021, I had the incredible honor of meeting and spending the day with a WWII veteran, Vernon Schmidt, who served in the 90th Infantry Division 358th Infantry Regiment with my grandfather. How humbling it was to hear firsthand the accounts of what they saw and experienced together. He had the same desire in his eyes that I see in my fellow historians and enthusiasts.
As we concluded our day together, I must admit it was difficult to leave. Extremely! As we hugged and said our goodbyes, he told me that he was glad there were people like me and the above mentioned. When I asked why, he stated, “It makes it easier for my generation to pass on because I know you won’t let what we went through be forgotten.”
To those who are reading this, thank you. We ask that you help us by sharing with your friends and family this history. Never forgetting Pearl Harbor, the roughly 416,000 American soldiers who gave the ultimate sacrifice, and the fallen of every nation that never returned home.
Fantastic and heartfelt account of your passion. Thank you for sharing it, along with the wonderful photos.
Hi Laura. I'm Angelica's mom. I can't tell you how proud we are of her and those of you in this group. I love reading the articles you post. I find myself optimistic and saddened by today's political atmosphere. These veterans and their families sacrificed a lot for the freedoms we're enjoy today. I fear that's getting lost in the shuffle. Do you know what else is being done in the US to address the "forgetfulness" of these sacrifices? Thank you. Please continue to do great work. So proud of you all.