WWII (for America) started in December, 1941. I was almost 6 years old. In early 1942, my father enlisted in a USNavy officer training program. He was 32 years old. He was gone until the war was over in 1945, except for a few brief shore leaves when his ship returned to the East Coast.
We lived in Oakmont, PA, a suburb of Philadelphia, just four blocks from my mother's parents, my Grandad and Nana. Also living with my grandparents were my aunt Norma and my cousins Alice and Ada. Ada is just 10 months older than I am, and we attended the same grade at Oakmont Grade School for several years. Oakmont School was just across the trolley tracks from my grandparents house. Just a few miles away was my mother's other sister, Ethel, her husband Henry, and my other cousins George and Shirley. For those years, when my father was away, I spent a lot of time at my grandparents' house.
For quite a few years during and after the war, my grandfather would rent a large summer house in Beach Haven, NJ, for the whole month of August. And most all of the family would go down there for the month. What great freedom and fun we had then.
Beach Haven is one town on a long, narrow island called Long Beach Island. Basically a giant sand bar, about 15 miles long and averaging about four blocks wide. Beach Haven is about 20 miles north of Atlantic City, but I don't remember ever going there.
The various rental houses were simple, rustic summer places. Usually with an ice box; the ice man came every other day with a huge block of ice slung over his shoulder, and threw it into the ice box. Also, an outdoor shower to wash off the sand before coming into the house.
No one was concerned about our safety, except that Aunt Norma forbade us from going into the water for an hour after we ate lunch. The beach was only a block or two away, with large sand dunes, and easy surf. The bay on the other side of the island was shallow for many yards; we could walk far out into the bay and only be up to our waist in water.
Just a few blocks away, there was a movie theatre and a ice cream parlor; think banana splits. Beach Haven had a boardwalk with arcade games, tchotchkes shops and salt water taffy. Also, every August a carnival came to town for a week or two, with a ferris wheel, other rides, side shows, candy cotton, and those strange-looking people who were clearly part of the traveling show.
Norma took Ada and me for my first ferris wheel ride. I was terrified that the seat was going to roll over backwards, so I kept pressing against the flimsy-looking wooden bar in our laps; Norma was sure that was going to pop loose and we would all fall out the front. After a couple of spins around the wheel, I was able to calm down somewhat. (Years later, my mother took me for my first roller coaster ride, and I was even more convinced then that my life was about to end.)
In 1945, Ada and I were quartered in the attic of the house. There was a wind-up Victrola with one 78-rpm record: Chopin's Polonaise. So we played that ad infinitum. I love it to this day.
August 15, 1945. We were in the house when we heard a lot of yelling and car horns, so we dashed outside to find out what was happening. It was V-J day; the war with Japan was over. Car horns were blasting, and people were throwing streamers of some sort into the air (rolls of TP?).
Hiroshima was nine days earlier, August 6. I was nine years old. I don't remember anyone talking about the atom bomb that we had dropped on that city, or the terrible death and destruction it had caused. We were just glad the war was over. My father would be coming home.
(About seven years later, because I now had a driver's license, my family went down to Beach Haven again for a couple of weeks. Myself and another boy met two girls and spent a lot of time with them. my summer girl's name was Linda. The morning my family was to drive back to Philadelphia, I asked my father if I could take the car for a brief visit to where Linda was staying, to say goodbye. It was the first Buick of several that he eventually owned. I drove over the Linda's and said goodbye. Then I backed up the Buick while turning, unaware of the telephone pole just next to the car. This ended in a big fat dimple in the front fender. I was sure my father would explode. If he did, I have blanked it from my memory. Below are me and Linda on the right, the other couple, names long forgotten, on the left, and the Buick behind us.)
These vacations ended on the Saturday of Labor Day weekend. Before that, Ada and I would each get an old shoe box, and go into the bay and gather a collection of sea shells, which we would take home as a mementos of another fun August at the Beach Haven. Then into the car, and the drive back to Philly. School was about to start.
