The Attic: A Memoir

This Stranger in Uniform

134 THIS STRANGER IN UNIFORM I n the atticwe unearthed severalbundles ofenvelopesneatly tied with household string. All had been franked with "Free" scribbled in the upper right-hand comer. I recognized my childishly open handwriting, knew this was correspondence from my hitch in the Navy. Evidently Mother had saved every single scrap I wrote. "You'll know what to do with these," Lois said with a smile, handing them over. Here was a diary of sorts, more complete than Bertha's or Elizabeth's; a record of activities over a period of many months. However, in addressing Mother (Lizzie and Jack too), I filter and edit what I relate. I will have to understand the nature of this "control" in order to reach behind the words. Until reading these letters, I had the notion of a seamless self, undergoing changes through the years but remainingessentially the same. Not true. This kid is a stranger to me. As a stringy, nervous seventeen-year-old during freshman year at Grinnell, I kept a wary eye on news from the battlefields. My heady, wildly happy college existence seemed enhanced because of the termination looming, perhaps even an end to my life. I bonded easily with new friends, as if waiting all these years to meet up with them. My roommate, Stu, from Lombard,Illinois,was uncannilymy precise age; we'd been born at almost the same hour. He and I and a few others among the 20 males on campus, finding ourselves among 250 women, immediately became BMOCs (big men on campus). We felt compelled to keep the college alive, particularly the extracurricular activities, until normal times returned. I worked on the newspaper, literary magazine, yearbook; helped out at weekly chapel (even delivering a sermon once); ran campus politics; trained to compete in track at the Drake Relays (no regular collegiate sports THIS STRANGER IN UNIFORM 135 I DRESSED AS LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY DURING HAZING AT GRINNELL COLLEGE, FALL 1944. werecarried on, for there were scarcely enough able-bodied meneven for basketball); enjoyed the novelty of naked phys. ed. swimming, tangling like puppies in water volleyball contests, then returning to the men's dorm with towels around our wet heads to dress quickly and sing for the women in dining hall fests. I loved college life-intensely sweet because it was played out against headlines on the bombing ofLondon, the siege ofStalingrad, and the landings at 136 TIlE ATIlC Omaha Beach. I had conquered shyness in public speaking by taking Professor Ryan's speech class and stepping to the podium whenever possible. I would surmount Victorian prudery and religious strictures concerning sex by also actively doing it one of these days. And full maturity meant I would have to join the war. I tried to think ofmy upcoming induction as a resolution of a long postponement. No beautiful time such as I was having could last forever. Every generation had its war and this was mine. However, I'd been born a bit late to qualify in the age set I felt part of; possibly I'd be left out unless I scrambled to be with them in their significant hour, the one against which they would measure themselves the rest oftheir days. Those younger than me would be ofa totally different time; not knowing the Depression orWorld War II, their lives would be shaped by influences about which I could only speculate. I would not belong to that generation group; nor would they have me. My lot was with those undergoing this war, and somehow I would have to join up before the fighting ended. Ironically, in later yearsmy having been a serviceman in World War II would often be greeted with incredulity, because in our family the aging clock ran behind time and none of us showed much gray hair until well past sixty. My youthful exterior belied inner notions ofthe period I identified with, what generation I was. June, 1945: My eighteenth birthday was approaching and draft registration-followed no doubt by a quick call-up from the Army unless I enlisted in the Navy, as planned. Though the European war was mostly over, I might still find myself in the war against Japan. But since hostilities in the Pacific also seemed to be winding down, my military role might be slight. However, I would qualify for a lame-duck button upon discharge and receive benefits under the...