World War II

Lately I have been thinking a lot about World War II

Doing a little research, I found that there is a 9th Division Soldiers Weekend at Fort Mott, along the Delaware River.  I know that September is a long way from now, but just in case I forget by then, here is the information:

September 28th and 29th from 10:00 a.m. on Saturday until 5 pm on Sunday 

VENUE 

Fort Mott State Park 

454 Fort Mott Road 
Pennsville, 08070 United States

Although Fort Mott was not an active fort after World War I it was put under historic preservation as a military site in 1944.  Lookout stations, however, were erected along the Delaware River in case of invasion and there was one at the Whittal Historic House in World War II, National Park.

It is probably true for most of us who were the children of World War II veterans, that the experience of living through the war, permeated our childhood.  As a family, we all watched Victory at Sea, every episode on television and gain on VCR with my Dad (I can still hear the theme music as I write this).  My father was in the navy and served in both the North Atlantic AND the South Pacific.  The last book he was reading before he died was THE BATTLE OF TASSAFERONGA.  I have the postcard he sent to my mother from New Guinea.  

Especially this week, after the anniversary of D-Day, the war, and my father and his heroic service are in my heart and on my mind.  The line from the Bing Crosby song "We'll follow the old man, wherever he wants to go," goes through my mind and brings tears to my eyes.  Every Christmas we watched this  movie White Christmas together.  

Before his service in the Navy, my father was also in the Merchant Marines as was his father before him, and before that when he was only 16, he joined the Civilian Conservation Corps and every summer we would visit the Blue Ridge Mountains and though he didn't say much about it, I bet he was remembering those teenaged years working in the forest, cutting out a highway and building a park;  the only thing he said was the barracks were not much better than the internment camps they put the Japanese Americans in out west.  He had been a city boy, born and raised in Philadelphia, as was my mother and one of my brothers and myself, and his experience in the CCC gave him a life long love of the Appalachian region, where he retired in his 60's, Thirty years ago.  

During the war, my mother served as a courier at the Philadelphia Navy yard and we had an old movie on video made from a film my grandfather (who had served in World War I on the Mexcan border) had shot of their neighborhood that showed the victory gardens in South Philadelphia, the sailors home on leave and the VJ Day Parade with my mother, pregnant with me, hoisting a big flag in a neighborhood parade.  

I never got tired of the movies, the books, the stories about the war and I only wish now that I had asked my father more, though he was not one to be loquacious in an interview.  He really never talked much about any of that part of his life, beyond making the statements "I saw the battle of Tassaferonga from our ship."  And the oft told tale of how his troop transport picked up sailors out of the sea after their guardian destroyer had been torpedoed and one of the sailors was his own uncle!

It seems the older I get, the more importance history has in my life.  And heaven knows there are many places of historic interest in South Jersey.  I will find out many more tomorrow when I go to the first annual South Jersey History Fair at the Gabreil Daveis Tavern in Glendora.  Hope to see you there!

Happy Trails (in the woods and in your memory)

Jo Ann

wrightj45@yahoo.com