The World War II stories tookme back to the time I was a B-29 flight engineer in the Pacific ["Making History," September 24].
I was fighting for my life, for my family, and to preserve the way of life of our country. This made sense to me. Finally, it all ended on Sept. 2, 1945, and our crew was honored to fly protective cover over Big Mo [USS Missouri], hunkered down in Tokyo Bay for the signing of the peace treaty. Suddenly I'm hurtled forward to the war in Iraq. It doesn't make sense to me.
"The Voices of World War II" was fascinating reading. I would like for another voice to be added: kids of military families and the rest of us. I was in seventh grade at the beginning of World War II. The war affected what we could do and wear, and our whole lives were immersed in the war effort, from raising money to buy war bonds and stamps to knitting blankets to helping with the victory garden. Schools had to scale back: no out-of-town basketball games, just intramural games, and yearbooks that were paperback and had few pictures.
The World War II stories were excellent. I got a deep laugh out of the ending comment. I could just hear good old vet Bernard Moulton saying, "I have more stories that we didn't have a chance to get into today." I was a couple of years too young for World War II, but my college, Mississippi State University, was full of veterans in the late 1940s. Having them there broadened my education.
Jim Lacey Jr.
Reading Maj. Earl Anderson's recollections of June 13, 1944, reminded me vividly of that day ["Parachuting Into Enemy Territory"]. I was waiting for a lecture on civil engineering to begin at Munich's Technische Hochschule (now Technical University). Then the air raid alarm went off, and I hurried back to my room in an apartment on the third floor of the only private building in the block not occupied by the university. I took a suitcase with my belongings, including my notes taken during the classes, down to the basement. Then I went across the street to the house where my friends were hiding their Jewish father. In the last moment before the bombs fell, we managed to get him down into the basement. Several houses were hit; one of them was the house where I lived. The worst was the loss of my suitcase with the notes that I needed for the upcoming exams. My circle of friends and I had no ill feelings toward the American pilots. We saw each raid as an important step to getting rid of the Nazis.