December 1941

by Craig Shirley

  At war with Germany, Italy and Japan: the United States, Great Britain, Canada, China, Free France, the Netherlands, Netherland Indies, New Zealand, Poland, union of South Africa, Costa Rica, Cuba, Nicaragua, Dominican Republic, Honduras, Haiti, El Salvador, Guatemala, and Panama.

  At war with Germany, Italy, and their European allies only: Soviet Russia, Belgium, Czechoslovakia, Ethiopia, Greece, Luxembourg, Norway, Yugoslavia.

  At war with the United States, Britain, and Russia: Germany, Italy, Slovakia, Rumania.

  At war only with Russia and Britain: Finland, Hungary.

  At war only with the United States and Britain: Japan, Manchukuo, Bulgaria.

  Broken relations with Germany, Italy, and Japan: Mexico.

  Broken relations with Japan only: Colombia.

  Broken relations with the United States: Hungary.

  Expressing ”solidarity” with the United States: Argentina, Brazil, Bolivia, Chile, Ecuador, Paraguay, Peru, Uruguay, Venezuela.2

  Not mentioned were Ireland and Vichy France, which was little more than a hand-puppet for Berlin, although there were some in the West still under the illusion that the Marshal Petain government could or would stand up to the Axis Powers. Joseph Stalin still had not decided to declare war on Japan, still looked out for his country’s own interests, and still demanded Lend-Lease help from America. He was angry that, despite his country’s enormous sacrifices in staving off Hitler’s Operation Barbarossa, he seemed to be getting little help in return from America and the Brits. A delusional paranoiac by nature, Stalin began to suspect that the Allies intended to let his country bleed at the hands of the Nazis. After all, in Stalin’s mind, his partners of convenience—America and Britain—were capitalists and, as such, could not be trusted. Indeed, one of his greatest fears was that FDR and Churchill would eventually make common cause with Hitler, and all three would then pursue him. Stalin trusted no one, as reflected by his incessant, murderous purges of millions of innocent people. Meanwhile, the Irish, blinded by an age-old hatred of the English, could not see that the Third Reich was their enemy too. The island of Eire remained neutral.3

  Argentina, though expressing solidarity with the United States, was thought among the knowledgeable in Washington circles to have strong Nazi leanings.4 To be sure, South America was riddled with Nazi spies and sympathizers, making that region a prime surveillance target for both the FBI and FDR’s brand-new foreign spy agency, the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), the precursor to the CIA.

  What with countries at war and with all of the borders and bureaucrats and bribes needed to get from locale to location, noncombatants and civilians queued up in ports of call and airports, in terminals and in train stations. They waited interminable hour upon interminable day upon interminable week, without transit visas, trying to get out, get in, get going, get back, get home. “Lisbon has been crowded for many months with persons who have gone there in the hopes of getting transportation to America via the Pan American clippers or ships of the American Export Line.”5 Somewhere, Bogie and Bacall were stuck too, and time went by.

  Just hours after the German army said it was hunkering down for the long Russian winter and awaiting spring to renew its offensive operations, came fresh stories declaring the Russian army now had the Nazis on the run, at least outside of Moscow. But, as much of the reporting came secondhand from Stalin’s propaganda machine, it was unknown what was true and to what extent it was an exaggeration. “The German high command said early this week that with the settling in of winter, Nazi troops had entrenched themselves and that Moscow and Leningrad could not be taken before spring.”6 The New York Times accurately digested the Russian propaganda and said, “It seems unlikely that the Germans have suffered real disaster the red Army avers.” Hitler claimed the German army would regain the offensive after the winter snow melted.7

  The Nazis were continuing their purges in other occupied areas, such as in Vichy, where resistance members were shot for possessing guns or holding a different political view or simply being of another race—basically, anyone who wasn’t a Nazi. “In the unoccupied zone, roundups of Jews, Communists and ‘terrorists’ generally continue day by day.”8

  It was later revealed that over a hundred non-Aryans were lined up and shot by the Nazis. The occupying Nazi General, Otto von Steuelpnagel, signed an order levying fines of one billion French Francs “exclusively” against Jews in Vichy. The order never elaborated what the fine was for, although bulletins pasted all over Paris made clear, the Nazis were not done with the matter—they were on the hunt for more “anarchists.” Also, by von Steuelpnagel’s order, “A large number of criminal Judeo-Bolshevik elements will be deported to hard labor in the eastern territories. Other deportations of still greater numbers will follow.”9

  The Nazis also began registering Americans in Germany, but oddly, only those over the age of fifty and under the age of fifteen.10

  Yet another American pilot emerged as an early hero of the war. This one was John G. Magee Jr., a pilot/poet in the best tradition of Antoine de Saint-Exupery. He was the son of a rector of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Washington. Impatient to get into the fight, young Magee had joined the Royal Canadian Air Force months earlier, and while the details of his death were not revealed, he too had “slipped the surly bonds of Earth . . . and, touched the face of God.”11

  Curiously, as one city after another had stumbled and bumbled its way through air-raid drills and blackout drills, the nation’s capital had yet to complete a first, true dress rehearsal. As of the thirteenth, one was not planned for several weeks, even though the head of the local civil defense warned that without complete cooperation, “failure . . . may mean the blasting out of life or property.”12

  The city had good reason to protect property, and not just the public property of the government either. Many private insurance companies had stopped writing policies or cancelled policies on “war risk” homes and businesses located in Washington. “The majority of the reputable companies closed their books with the first rain of bombs on Hawaii.”13 Consequently, the federal government took $100 million and created a “nation-wide war insurance system to pay the private owners of homes, farms or factories in the Continental United States for damage or destruction resulting from enemy aircraft.”14 The new government bureau, the War Insurance Corporation, also covered crops and fruit orchards.

  The federal city for years had been a sleepy, fevered, malarial swamp, appallingly humid and hot in the summer. It was situated on the Potomac River, which had become a slow-moving cesspool. Sewage was dumped in from homes upstream: from Georgetown, whose sewage drained right into the river; from the Army base at Ft. McNair; and from the Anacostia River, which fed into the larger Potomac. Until a WPA project built the Tidal Basin to control the river, it often overflowed its banks, sometimes even as far as the White House, and everything reeked. Between the New Deal, Lend-Lease, and now a new war, the town had changed radically.

  David Brinkley memorably wrote in Washington Goes to War, “A languid Southern town with a pace so slow that much of it simply closed down for the summer grew almost overnight into a crowded, harried, almost frantic metropolis struggling desperately to assume the mantle of global power, moving halting and haphazardly and only partially successfully to changing itself into the capital of the free world.”15 Because of the advent of air conditioning, it was at least tolerable in the summer months now. But on this Sunday, December 14, it was doused by heavy sleet that knocked down the phone lines.

  British diplomats had so hated being posted to Washington that they were paid extra, the same as if they were assigned to a war zone.16 Now, Washington was ground zero for a world war zone. The town was radically altered, forevermore.

  The town took soldiers and sailors, not only of America, but of America’s allies, to its bosom. British and Australian enlistees were truly amazed at how hospitable Washington was. “Decent, that’s what these people are. Why, there are more conveniences for servi
ce men here than I’ve ever found anywhere.”17

  There were canteens where men in uniform could listen to music, write letters, put their feet up. There were dances at churches and civic centers, there were of course bars on every corner, but there were also lectures and concerts, historic tours and church services. At the Botanic Gardens, there was a poinsettia display, and a variety show at the Washington Hebrew Congregation.18 The cities of America, and especially Washington, had transformed into one big “R and R” station for men in uniform. The town bristled with a military presence, and the navy’s PBY’s routinely took off and landed on the Anacostia and Potomac Rivers.

  The war had radically changed life in the military and aboard ship as well, especially in a combat zone. Censorship was widely employed in letters to and from sailors. It was not at all unusual for gobs and swabs to open their “V-Mail,” only to find it already read by navy censors. Sensitive information such as the names of cities and ships, as well as details about other sailors, were neatly cut out of the letter with scissors. The same treatment went double for outbound letters. In a letter home, a sailor wrote, “We hear on the radio that the U.S.S. was sunk. We couldn’t send out any message because it would give our position away to the Japs.”19 Wives and girlfriends were advised not to put multiple lipstick kisses on the outside of letters as it could be interpreted to be code.20

  As a consequence of rumors, the postmaster general had to go so far as to issue a statement saying there would be no censorship of in-country mail.21

  Civilians were also admonished to be careful what they said and to whom, especially “ship movements or other information which might be valuable to the enemy. You are violating the security of the United States and endangering the lives of your fellow Americans if you fail to observe . . . precautions.” A Five Point Plan was released, all of it urging civilians in each of the points: “Don’t discuss . . . . concentrations . . . movements . . . new weapons . . . naval personnel.”22

  In other words, shut up.

  But, curiously, newspapers were still publishing the billeting and deployment of individual G.I.’s, naming names and destinations.

  More guidelines were issued for blackouts. “Matches and cigarettes used on open streets are easily spotted by rooftop watchers.” Eleanor Roosevelt advised Americans that the government was worried about poison gas attacks, implying that the Japanese had used gas against the Chinese. She also suggested that in order to keep children calm, parents should teach them “war is a game.”23 Long stories appeared advising people on how to deal with a gas attack by the Japanese. Evacuation plans were developed, and Congress debated the bill to fund gas masks for the civilian population. Initially, the government wanted to distribute 38 million gas masks along the East and West Coasts.24

  Bombing chitchat continued endlessly. In the militarily unimportant area of San Joaquin Valley, a mass exodus of farmers and farm workers ensued after rumors spread that they were about to be bombed.25 Still, there was reason to be concerned. Law enforcement officials found evidence of attempted sabotage at dams in both California and Maryland. Advice columnists and veterans of the London bombings urged Americans that work was the best therapy for getting over the bombing jitters. When asked by the Gallup polling organization, a plurality of Americans on both coasts believed they might be bombed.26 Stories appeared in newspapers on the “dos and don’ts for handling fire bombs,” giving readers tips on what to do should one fall in a backyard undetonated. “Suppose an incendiary bomb fell in your vicinity, what would you do?”27 Some training sessions to teach civilians how to handle undetonated bombs were called by the dubious moniker, “skull practice.”28

  The president’s eldest son, James, went on active duty for the marines. In short order, all four Roosevelt boys would be in uniform, John, Elliot, and Franklin Jr. The recruiting offices of the country were still being inundated with applicants, some who had been sent away more than once due to the outpouring. “Boys” and “white-haired men” continued to show up.29

  One young man in New York was so deeply moved by the war and the sacrifices of his fellow Americans that he changed his status from conscientious objector to 1-A. “In the face of this dastardly inhuman attack . . . I feel my stand as a conscientious objector in untenable. I feel proud to admit that I have made a mistake in taking the impractical stand of pacifism and repudiate it without the slightest reservation or hesitation. I stand ready to serve!” The wire story did not release the name of the young man for obvious reasons.30

  In newspapers throughout the country, stories of young men (and some women) in the war zone or in flight school or gunnery school or boot camp or nursing school began to appear, generated by proud parents and other family members.

  And more were turning up dead. A headline in the Atlanta Constitution read, “Georgian Killed in Hawaii Attack.” It told of Lt. Ralph Hollis of the Navy.31 On the front page of the Birmingham News was another headline, “Lauderdale Negro Killed in Naval Engagement,” its story telling of twenty-three-year-old Anthony Hawkins Jr. who had “died in action” in Hawaii.32

  In Lynn, Massachusetts, the parents of Army Private Leo E. A. Gagne were making plans for his mass. He’d been killed at Hickam Field in Hawaii. The outpouring of friends and strangers, like everyplace else in America, was awe inspiring. “Members of his grief-stricken family had hardly made announcement of their plans to have a mass celebrated in the hero’s memory when veterans of World War I offered to join them by paying military honors.” Also, the local Veterans of Foreign Wars and the American Legion, along with community groups, came out to pay tribute and console the grieving family. The burial would not be anytime soon however. “The body will not be returned to this country until hostilities have ended, according to the War Department.”33

  High school students were assembling stretchers and first-aid chests for carrying bandages and medicines.34 In Miami, a blind man offered his services and those of his seeing-eye dog to help people in blackouts.35 Boy Scouts were distributing 5 million air-raid posters.36 Yet another newspaper account told of a senior class deferring the $37.50 collected for a trip to the purchase of war bonds instead.37 Meanwhile, school kids in New York could be heard singing, “Hi-ho, hi-ho, we’re off for Tokyo, to bomb each Jap, right off the map, hi-ho, hi-ho.”38 Such stories appeared by the thousands.

  Civic mindedness was deep in the culture now. While not necessarily the clean-living model, a nonetheless patriotic group of strippers at the Follies Theatre in Los Angeles, led by Miss Dorothy Darling, pledged they would purchase $500 worth of war bonds each week.39

  Nationally, the American Automobile Association organized an effort to drive women and children to and from military bases while also transporting soldiers and sailors to their new duty stations.40 Virtually everyone was supporting the war effort now.

  The final nail was driven in the coffin for the America First Committee. They’d already folded their tent, but not before the storefront of its New York office was besieged with “junior clerks, office boys and stenographers [who] made it a point to pass by the . . . office during the lunch hour and by, shouted remarks and finger postures added to the discomfiture of the staff.” A “for rent” sign was hung in the window.41

  A week earlier, the organization had bragged about setting up shop in every congressional district in the country, as a means of pressuring federal candidates into adopting their nonintervention agenda. Now the organization was deader than a doornail, and the former head of the organization, General Robert E. Wood, offered his services as a former military commander to President Roosevelt.42 Wood was a highly decorated and much-esteemed veteran of the Great War.

  Congress was nearing passage of a new Selective Service Act, the word “selective” being, by and large, window dressing. The aim was to scoop up as many males as possible. The 1-A classification referred to all able-bodied young, male American citizens between the ages of eighteen and forty-four years of age. The classification of 2-A was rese
rved for men whose work was considered essential, including many professional baseball players after January of 1942. The classification of 2-B was for men working in war industries, and 3-A was for married men.43

  Government officials made it plain, however, that any jobs in the private sector filled by women would be vacated for men once they returned from combat.44 But a federal circuit court of appeals made clear that there was no college deferment for studies or athletics. A football player at Gonzaga University sought to defer being drafted until he finished his gridiron career, but the court threw him for a loss.45 Also, the U.S. Golf Association and the PGA mulled over suspension of the pro links tour for the duration of the war, and military leaders called for cancelling the Rose Bowl.46

  The PGA considered a suspension, in part because of tour crowds on the West Coast. “Japanese planes have been seen reconnoitering over San Francisco. Machine gunners and bombers have a fondness for targets of that nature,” reported the Sunday Star.47 The amateur and professional tennis tours made no indication of cancelling their seasons. Bobby Riggs was the number one ranked player in the world.48

  Movie director Frank Capra was anxiously awaiting his orders. His Meet John Doe had premiered in May. On the twelfth, five days after Pearl Harbor, he’d accepted a commission as major in the Army Signal Corps, and on the thirteenth he’d wrapped principal photography on Arsenic and Old Lace with Cary Grant and Priscilla Lane; only editing remained.49 Capra had already served in “World War I” (as the Los Angeles Times called it) as a math instructor at Ft. Scott in San Francisco.50

  Soon, General George C. Marshall would give the talented young filmmaker a vital assignment: to create a documentary series called Why We Fight that explained to Americans the stakes involved in this world war, outlining the differences between American democracy and the totalitarian systems overseas.51 Meanwhile, in case anyone in Tinseltown didn’t get the message, big prints ads were purchased telling readers that, “All theatres are open and operating as usual! Even during Blackouts the show goes on as usual, with outside lighting curtailed in cooperation with the Citizens Defense Committee.”52