Please share your story.
You don’t have to be a veteran.
Whether you were a child or an adult; whether you recall life on the homefront or life in uniform; whether it’s your own story you wish to share, or the story of someone you know, your memories of the War Years or the effect of those years on you or your family, we want to hear from you.
Please use the LEAVE A REPLY box at the bottom of the page, or email us at quref@ocln.org.
The stories below may help you get started writing your own recollections. If you need more help, we’ve included a short list of questions and prompts that you may find useful.
From Quincy to Casablanca: Lifelong Quincy resident Harold DiMattio left school at the age of 16 to join the Navy. As a Fire Controlman 1st Class, he spent four years in the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans and fought in some of the most decisive naval campaigns of World War II. Listen to Harold’s story.
Harold Angelo DiMattio died on March 13, 2009. He leaves a gaping hole in the community to which he was so devoted and those who knew him will miss his kind and gracious spirit.
More clips from our interview with Harold DiMattio:
I’d had enough
Life’s lesson
Fear
Harold Crowley was eight years old when World War 2 ended. On August 14th, 1945, three months after the surrender of Nazi Germany and just days after the United States dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Japanese government bowed to defeat. Across America, and here in Quincy Massachusetts, people took to the streets—and celebrated.
“We had a parade, and everybody had something to make noise. I had a cow bell. So we paraded around the street with the cowbell.”
Given the fall of Hitler’s third Reich a few months earlier, and the utter destruction of Japan’s two major cities, Victory over Japan day–known as VJ Day–was not a complete surprise. But for Harold and every other American whose life had been affected by the war, the announcement was electrifying. It also meant the end of an era that reached back to the great Depression; and the beginning of a post war economy and US rise to political power that would usher in dramatic changes in everything from industry to fashion. At the time though, what would be seen through the lens of history as a seismic cultural shift, revealed itself in practical and even mundane ways. And in economic dislocation. America had placed its complete economic, industrial, and scientific capabilities at the service of the war effort. When the war ended, it marked the end of the boom in shipbuilding that had kept Harold’s father working 7 days a week.
“We’d won the war. It was over and of course everything was going to change after that and we knew it. Well we didn’t really know but everything did change after the war. Styles changed. Everything changed. My father was laid off. Shipbuilding went down the tubes..right after the war it took a while to transition to something else…..”
Rosie the Riveter: “I was five stories up and everyone yelled “Don’t look down, Mildred! Don’t look down!”
83-year-old Mildred Vento worked as a ship painter in the Quincy Shipyard during World War II when she was only 17 years old.
Listen to Mildred’s story.
Journey out of Darkness: Bob Noble of Quincy was a P.O.W. in Germany during World War II. Here is his story:
The 18-year-old kid heard German spoken in the dark and wondered, Hey, who’s fooling around? He poked his head up from his slit trench on a hill in Alsace-Lorraine, a region disputed for centuries, and spied a group of men standing maybe ten yards away. It was hard to make them out, gray figures in the black. More German sounds traversed the cold air and Bob Noble gripped his rifle.
“A lot of things happened because of decisions that I made,” Bob says now, “and I don’t know why I made some of them.” In the trench that night, Bob leveled his weapon at the huddle of ghost-men. The enemy’s guttural language choked his ears.
He didn’t shoot. He heard a voice in his head: “Don’t do this.” The men he had picked out for death, in fact, were not Germans. They were American GIs who had just been captured by enemy forces infiltrating their position from the rear. Moments later, Bob was captured, too. It was December 16, 1944, and the Battle of the Bulge had begun 90 miles to the north.
“I’ve thought about it a lot,” says Bob of the events that led to his capture, to misery, and to survival. Events that led to his wife Gloria and their son and three daughters, to ten grandchildren and two great-grandkids. To Boston College on the GI Bill and 35 years as an engineer. To this pleasant morning in their condominium, the walls held up by framed family photographs. “You make a decision,” he says, “but you don’t know the consequences.”
The POWs, forced to carry injured German soldiers wrapped in blankets, were marched to a barn on top of the Siegfried Line. American artillery started up and a shell destroyed a wall not ten feet from Bob. “It was like a dream,” he remembers. They followed their guards down a stairway into a blast-proof room built for the last war, the Great War. In the morning, the POWs were led out of town as it burned. American shells continued to fall without ever asking, Friend or foe?
Bob Noble’s story was part of the Journey Out of Darkness exhibition at the Museum of National Heritage in Lexington, Mass. from May 20, 2006 to January 7, 2007. The Journey Out of Darkness book of oral histories contains other WWII P.O.W. stories and is available at the Thomas Crane Public Library.
The war made us who and what we are today. Listen to a two minute interview with Newbury College History Professor Dan Breen.
At 17, Quincy resident Jim Joyce had a crash course in responsibility. Jim shared his story at a film and discussion series led by Professor Breen.
Too Young to Join: The war defined my parents
I asked my 79-year-old mother what she remembers most about the war years. “The patriotism that engulfed the country,” she said. “Following the battles in the newspaper and atlas. Love of country. National pride in our military. I’m sorry I was too young to join one of the Services. We, as a nation, were all together.”
Mom also remembers my father, a World War II veteran. Four years out of the Army Air Corps, dad stopped to help a young woman who was wearing red lipstick and pedal pushers fix the roof of her friend’s convertible. The rest is history: the dashing man in his leather bomber jacket sweeps damsel in distress off her sensible feet. During a marriage that sometimes seemed like the war itself, one thing my parents always shared was a sense that as Americans, they had faced and overcome a great danger not just to our country but to the world. It wasn’t anything they talked about; it was the way they lived.
–Jessie Thuma, Quincy resident
Just Another Day in the US Army: Abe Cohen drives a Nazi Jeep into German territory
March 30, 1945 on the outskirts of Heidelberg, Germany: An open city, white sheets and pillowcases flying from the windows. Slept under a wine tank, long as a football field. Sunrise, found the bridge across the Neckar River blown up. My battalion commander, surveying the scene, pointed out the German medical center across the river. Division headquarters wanted to know if American soldiers were patients there. Bridge kaput—pointed to a row boat. I knew my mission.
Hewitt, my faithful companion and driver, not too enthusiastic, started to row. The Neckar River was about 300 yards wide; halfway across, a few rifle shots, coming from an apartment at river’s edge, fortunately missed us.
Upon landing, we proceeded to the hospital compound, where I asked for the commandant. Soon, a medical general appeared. I informed him that I was now in charge and asked if there were any U.S. military here. He answered “no” but close by in two small hospitals, each contained a G.I.
Having no vehicle, I asked for his car. He walked us to it, a duplicate of our own Jeep, except it had the Nazi emblem and his flag attached. He gave us exact directions and we took off. After about two km, we turned a corner and there was a Nazi lieutenant. standing in front of a tank. As we passed, I saw his mouth open in astonishment, seeing two G.I.s driving a Nazi officer’s car. We kept driving, now knowing that the information given to me that another battalion further south had crossed the Necker and secured this area was wrong. Not unusual in this now fluid war. No turning back, so we proceeded on our mission.
Very shortly we came onto a small building flying the German Red Cross flag, in which we discovered an American soldat in very bad shape. He was having breathing problems and they had rigged up a gadget that kept his mouth open and his tongue immobilized.
At that moment, in stormed the lieutenant we had passed earlier. He yelled and we quickly understood that we were being arrested. We were led to his car. We came to a small village and stopped in front of a house. A major appeared and the lieutenant told him how we were detained. The major asked me the name of our unit. I refused. He then looked at the insignia on our jackets and said “Blut and Fire”, the motto of the 63rd Division. I knew then that he knew more about us than I about them. He started to ask questions, I looked dumb and in English said that I didn’t understand. He then called for another soldier who spoke English and he became our interpreter.
Hewitt pulled out his identification card, handed it to the major right side up, showing his photograph and the back which had a large Red Cross. While the major was examining it, Hewitt leaned over, kicked my ankle and jokingly whispered, “You Goddamn Jew, we will be shot”. When I gave the major my card, he turned it over, read my name—Lt. Abraham Cohen–out loud. At this point, I felt that I better speak up. I told him that my colonel had sent me on this mission to check on any U.S. Army wounded soldiers, that we had the car that belonged to the German medical general, his directions to the small hospital where we were captured and that it would be in the best interests of all if we were set free. If this didn’t happen, my colonel could take vengeance and the German hospital could suffer.
This, of course, was good talk. My colonel at this time didn’t have any idea where I was. But I could see that I had made an impression. The major said that because I was a medical officer and a non-combatant, if he blindfolded us and then when we returned would not report any military position. I agreed. The truth is that we didn’t see anything. The lieutenant then drove us back to the small hospital where we could pick up our vehicle, less any blindfold. We picked up the car, drove back to Heidelberg, where the engineer had put up a temporary bridge, and reported this encounter to my colonel.
P.S. My aid station was bombed while I was away and two young men lost their lives. I checked on our American soldat the next day and he had died during the night.
–Abe Cohen, Quincy resident
More about Neckar: “Soldiers of Necker” is a 30 minute long award winning film by three 19-year-old brothers that tells the story of “Uncle John” who served in World War II.
Pictures of Heidelberg, Germany at the time of capture by US Forces (255th Infantry Regiment).
Anzio, Italy: March 1944: excerpt from the war diary of Donald E. MacDonald
During the summer of 1943, I received the inevitable “Your friends and neighbors have chosen you” letter from President Roosevelt. After about three weeks reprieve at home, we landed at Fort Devens, Massachusetts for processing, during which I was interviewed by a Classification Specialist. When he heard that I was a History Teacher, he threw up his hands. “If you were a Science or Math Teacher there would be no problem, but the Army doesn’t know what the hell to do with fellows like you or me. I’m an English Teacher.” He paused momentarily, then, “What do you do in the summer?” was his next question. “I have worked quite a few summers as a substitute letter carrier”, I said truthfully. His face lit up at once. “You mean you walked 15 miles or so each day with a heavy pack on your back?” I had no recourse but to answer miserably, “That’s about it.” A few days later I was one of 500 men “railroaded” to Fort McClellan, Alabama “Basic Infantry Replacement Training.”
Anzio, Italy: March 13, 1944
We moved up to the front lines tonight after six days of rest and training. Back to the same brook and ravine I had struggled with the night I went up with rations. On the way up we had to cross and bridge and road which had been receiving heavy shelling. Sure enough, we had to hit the dirt, myself in the middle of the road, and sweat out a half dozen shells about fifty yards away–possibly nearer.
I was assigned to a hole with Shorty Powell [later killed in action]. Because of the water the hole was only about a foot deep, but was built up about three feet by sods and dirt. We had been there only about fifteen minutes when a shell landed fifteen feet from our hole and seemed to almost lift us into the air. The explosion was deafening and part of our side wall was knocked in, and our blankets which we hadn’t unrolled had gaping holes ripped through them.
For a couple of hours more the shells came pretty close and had us pretty well frightened. Then it was fairly quiet. We couldn’t both sleep at once, so we slept and watched in two-hour intervals.
–Donald E. MacDonald of Quincy, from his soldier’s diary of war time experiences on Anzio Beach-head, Italy, 1944.
On the Home Front: Mom drove for the Red Cross
My mother was working in Rochester, NY during the 1940s. When America went to war, she joined the Red Cross Motor Corps as a volunteer driver.
Back then, Rochester was known as the “imaging capital of America” because it was home to industries and Universities that specialized in optical science–technologies that became integral to the war production effort. Parts of the Norden bomb sight used in many Allied planes, along with the radio delay fuse and other components used by the military were all manufactured in town.
On my mother’s days off she was called on to transport military or civilian personnel from the airport or railroad station to these companies and industries, or to the Air Force Materiel Command building.
The volunteer drivers were required to attend classes in automotive mechanics. I remember my mother saying that although she KNEW know how to change a tire, she was glad she never had to do so. But she almost flunked carburetors! She also recalled that sometimes you were told who you were driving, but sometimes not. If not, you didn’t ask, you just drove. The “loose lips sink ships” rule applied here too. There were also memories of blackouts and possible sabotage threats as some of the Rochester items were vital to the war effort.
In spite of the war, or perhaps because of it, people made friendships they never might have otherwise, and people felt good about themselves for contributing in some way on the Home Front. Life went on, although it changed dramatically.
–Mary Clark, Quincy resident
More about the Red Cross Motor Corps, from the Red Cross Museum:
Nationally, the “Motor Corps consisted almost entirely of women who clocked over 61 million miles answering nine million calls to transport the sick and wounded, deliver supplies, and take volunteers and nurses to and from their posts. In all, nearly 45,000 women served in the Motor Corps during World War II. Most drove their own cars and many completed training in auto mechanics in order to be able to make automotive repairs on their own.”
Bill Corman’s father survived almost impossible odds. Now Bill collects artifacts of World War II. (Three minute interview)
You’d never know by looking at Jim Joyce that 63 years ago he was a member of the famous “We Build! We Fight!” construction battalions of World War Two known as the Seabees. But when Jim, still tall and lean, pulls out an old picture of a six young men grouped around a wooden box in Okinawa Japan just two days after the Japanese surrender of that island, you can spot Jim in the handsome face of the 18 year old standing in the upper left of the photograph. It was a historic moment for the US Navy.
Listen to a three minute interview with WWII veteran and Quincy resident Jim Joyce.
Deadly Weather
As veteran Jim Joyce of Quincy Massachusetts tells his grandchildren, the enemy in World War II wasn’t always the Germans and Japanese. The weather played a key role in the planning, success, and failure of military operations. According to the Department of the Navy, Typhoon Louise, which hit Okinawa without warning on October 9th, 1945, could have doomed the Allies planned invasion of the Japanese mainland:
“Winds of 80 knots (92 miles per hour) and 30-35 foot waves battered the ships and craft in the bay and tore into the quonset huts and buildings ashore. A total of 12 ships and craft were sunk, 222 grounded, and 32 severely damaged. [for listing of vessels] Personnel casualties were 36 killed, 47 missing, and 100 seriously injured. Almost all the food, medical supplies and other stores were destroyed, over 80% of all housing and buildings knocked down, and all the military installations on the island were temporarily out of action. Over 60 planes were damaged as well, though most were repairable. Although new supplies had been brought to the island by this time, and emergency mess halls and sleeping quarters built for all hands, the scale of the damage was still very large. If the war had not ended on 2 September, this damage, especially the grounding and damage to 107 amphibious craft (including the wrecking of four tank landing ships, two medium landing ships, a gunboat, and two infantry landing craft) would likely have seriously impacted the planned invasion of Japan (Operation Olympic).” —Naval Historical Center
18 year old Jim Joyce, who was a SeaBee in the US Navy had never seen or even imagined a storm like Typhoon Louise. “It was a terrifying night,” he recalls. “The storm lasted 12 hours. The winds were so strong they lifted the Quonset huts off their moorings. We were on land at the time. We didn’t realize until the next morning that all the small craft had run aground.”
It’s not just libraries and history buffs who are interested in World War II. Jim Joyce received this card from his granddaughter after she interviewed him for a Veteran’s Day school project. If only Meghan could have seen the smile on Jim’s face when he showed us her thank you note:
For more about weather and war, check out this article in Military Officer; and for more information on how weather forecasts are treated as military intelligence, don’t miss the fascinating history of the Weather Bureau Record of War Administration.
A dozen questions that might help you get started telling us your story.
- What is your name, age, and the date?
- When and where were you born?
- Where did you grow up?
- Were you in the military?
- Did you go to war? What was it like?
- How did war change you?
- During your military service, can you recall times when you were afraid?
- What are your strongest memories from the war years or your time in the military?
- What lessons did you learn from this time in your life?
- What are your hopes and dreams for what the future holds for young people today?
- If you could hold on to one memory from your life for eternity, what would that be?
- How would you like to be remembered?
