People of my age have lived through a different world-wide crisis from COVID 19--and that was World War II.
The war affected every one of us, even as kids. It affected the food supply in kind if not quantity; it shut down much of the industry; ten million men were in the armed forces leaving jobs which needed to be filled; the government took control of production shifting a major portion to crisis-related (war-related) necessities; travel was limited; meat, butter, sugar, leather shoes, and gasoline were rationed; prices were controlled; taxes were increased up to a 90% bracket; women were drawn into the labor market to replace the men who were drafted. "Don't you know there's a war on?” was the retort to any complaints.
The national debt shot upwards with no limit in sight, since all the production of tanks, planes, bombs, Liberty ships, uniforms, and the millions of military salaries had no economic return. It was all outgo, no profit.
There were drives to collect metal, newspaper, and money for War Bonds. We boys were excited by the thoughts of military action, the new weaponry, the new uniforms
appearing on men we actually knew. Boys are drawn to war, yes, even the boys in their late teens and twenties. It seemed so glorious, so dramatic, such a chance to prove manhood. I read every new book about heroes and sacrificed lives with no sense of the reality, the pain, the loss, the abject fear that every normal man can face in the gore, the human wreckage, the very real loss of comrades. But we gathered and clipped out pictures of planes and parachutists, and charging brigades.
Strangely the first and most shocking death close to us was that of out cousin, Jack Langton, several weeks before Pearl Harbor. Jack was drafted in mid 1941 into the army when the administration realized that entry into the European war was highly probable. Jack was killed while on a patrol in the woods of Washington State by stepping onto a fallen high tension wire. Our family were devastated as Jack's body was shipped home accompanied by his mother, Aunt Mae, who had gone out to get him.
We attended the funeral and saw the young man whom we dearly loved in his casket. His beautiful fiance, Eleanor, was there also. We wept. But, of course, once we were at war, the death of young men became all too familiar but not easier. Jack's sister, Marie Langton, had met a friend of Jack's who also accompanied the body home He was Pat ODonnell, a tall, handsome youth to whom she eventually became engaged.
After Jack's death, Pat became a paratrooper. In 1944 he died in the invasion of Italy at Anzio. Again we cried. We were learning that war is indeed cruel and rotten and lousy.
We were all very happy and relieved in 1945 both on VE day in May 1945 and then with the surrender of Japan in August. It was over. Finally, finally over! Not gloriously, just over. I was fifteen and glad I never had to face what I now knew was anything but fine and desirable.
But, we had not faced what the civilians of Britain, Europe and Asia had to deal with: heavy bombings of civilians, loss of homes and factories with no chance of rebuilding, threat of invasion, fighting within their towns of opposing armies, occupation by invaders, disruption of water and electrical power, actual starvation, infection by typhus, typhoid, and many other diseases.
As our men returned home and factories reopened or switched from munitions and bazookas to Chevrolets and Fords, washing machines, real leather shoes, and yes, even nylons, we witnessed, in an incredibly short time, a resurgence of the economy. We also saw the VA hospitals still dealing with shattered bodies and minds. The Marshall Plan was created in an historic and admirable attempt to help rebuild other countries in accord with the best Biblical teaching.
I am surprised when I read what I have written here. I had initially intended to simply point out that we had been through a stressful time before the present pandemic but these memories became overpowering and I wept as I typed. So let me end as I meant to.
"My dear Family and friends; we will recover, we will not give in, we will do what must be done. We may suffer discomfort in the meantime but pointless whining is for snivellers. If the old math teacher can make a point, even a 1% mortality rate is a 99% survival rate. We will see normalcy again. We did it before. We'll do it again."
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