Pearl Harbor Day. December 7th. Japanese Empire. Second World War. Russia. England. United States. “The New History of World War II.” CL Sulzberger. Stephen E. Ambrose. Axis Powers. Hitler. Italy. Germany. Gestapo. SS. General Winter. John D. McCormick.
The heavy fog that blanketed the world this morning is dissipating in the afternoon. Sun has replaced the grey. When I drove to the gym this morning, it was hard to see far down the road.
It is December 7th and today is the anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor by the Japanese, resulting in the US entering the Second World War.
As it happens, I am reading “The New History of World War II” by Stephen E. Ambrose and CL Sulzberger. The book does an excellent job of following the course of the war, point by point.
One of the things about the War that I had never really thought about was that Russia, England and the US coordinated their efforts through communications and meetings, bound by a single goal: to win the war and, particularly, to gain the unconditional surrender of the Axis powers.
The Axis powers, Germany, Italy and Japan had no coordination between them. Japan didn’t inform their allies they were going to attack at Pearl Harbor and there was no wartime coordination between them.
The book also clearly points out the number of disastrous military decisions made by Hitler, who, after his early successes, began to think of himself as the greatest general to have ever lived.
He listened to no one and no one stood up to him. Terror is effective in silencing critics. You don’t need the Gestapo knocking on your door in the middle of the night.
That happened often enough without disagreeing with Hitler.
Germany and Japan were brutal to the citizens of the countries they conquered. Had Hitler not been such a monster to the Russians, they might well have rallied behind him. When the Nazis first rolled into Russian towns, they were hailed as liberators. Then the soldiers were followed by the SS and things got ugly.
The Japanese were equally brutal.
What I am also getting out of reading this history is what life was like for the ordinary soldier on both sides of the war. It was a horrific business that required enduring, in the deepest sense of that word, horrific situations and surviving if one could, conditions that are almost unimaginable but for that fact they were endured.
And that was true for both sides, particularly in the Asian jungles and in the bitter Russian winters. “General Winter” is what defeated Napoleon and went a long way to breaking Hitler.
Knowing that this anniversary was coming, I have thought about World War II and the sacrifices it demanded of everyone. Since Korea, we’ve been fighting without asking sacrifices on the home front. In World War II, everyone was contributing.
John D. McCormick, patriarch of the McCormick clan of which I am an “honorary” member stood on the deck of the battleship upon which the Japanese surrendered. I didn’t know that until his Memorial Service.
And it connects me to that war in a way I didn’t feel connected before knowing that. This wonderful man who gave me piggyback rides and twirled me through his legs along with his own children fought in the Pacific and was there to watch the final surrender of the Japanese Empire.
It is with his two oldest daughters and their families I will spend the Holidays.
The ancient Egyptians used to say that to speak the name of the dead is to make them live again.
Today I speak John’s name and thank him for the sacrifices he endured so that I didn’t grow up speaking German or Japanese. I think of Eileen McCormick’s brother who was an airman and did not return from the war, shot down on a mission.
Perhaps today we should all take the time to think, for a moment, of the people of which we know, who participated in that struggle, while the fate of the world hung in the balance. Speak their names to yourself so that they live again, for a moment.


Letter From New York 12 10 15 River ramblings…
December 10, 2015Global warming. Todd Broder. Broderville. Uber. Trump. Goldwater. Lyndon Johnson. West Point. Penn Station. Moynihan Station. Grand Central. Union Station. “Newtown.” Odyssey Networks.
It’s Thursday afternoon and I’m riding north, leaving the city for the weekend. It’s the 10th of December and the sky is bright and the temperature is hovering near 60 degrees.
Gallows humor jokes about global warming proliferate. Burdened with things I am returning to the cottage, I got an Uber to take me to Todd’s office for a call. Chiek, my driver, and I discussed it most of the time between the apartment and office.
He just became an American citizen and so we talked about the election scene. He said in the six years he has been in America, he’s never seen anything like it. I must be twice as old as he and I’ve never seen anything like it either.
Trump barrels on, his foot firmly inserted in his mouth, a condition which does not seem to prevent him from topping the Republican polls. As far as I can tell from newspaper accounts, Republicans are terrified of him and too terrified to do anything about him.
Some are saying that if he is nominated it will be the harbinger of a defeat of the magnitude of 1964, when Goldwater ran against Lyndon Johnson and was overwhelmingly defeated, taking down much of the party with him.
If that happens, there is a part of me that says they deserve it if they give the nomination to him.
The Republican circus is dismaying me. And probably most other thinking adults…
We are gliding past West Point, the redoubt looking splendid in the afternoon sun as we move north.
When I got on the train today, I remarked to myself what a depressing place Penn Station is, especially when compared with Grand Central or Union Station in Washington DC. Those places put a bit of pep in your feet while Penn grinds down the soul.
If I live long enough, they may eventually move train traffic from Penn across the street to what is now being called “Moynihan Station.” Named after the late New York Senator, Daniel Moynihan, the new station will be forged from the old Post Office, designed by the same architect who built the original Penn, torn down in one of New York’s greatest moments of folly.
I woke up grumpy this morning and made a conscious choice to be happy, to enjoy the day – and I am. Yesterday, a project I have been working on died with a whimper.
Yesterday, I was surrounded by friends and a dinner held by Odyssey for its Board and friends at which were shown clips from the films they are working on. “Newtown” has been accepted into Sundance and The White House has asked to see their film on mass incarceration. Much to celebrate.
But when I got home and the laughter passed, I took a little time to mourn my project, falling asleep wanting my teddy bear.
When I woke, the sadness was still hanging on me so I got a grip on myself and reminded myself that the sun had still risen, it was a remarkable weather day for the 10th of December, that other opportunities will come and there are other project joys to be found in the future.
Tags:Broderville, Global warming, Goldwater, Grand Central, Lyndon Johnson, Mat Tombers, Mathew Tombers, Moynihan Station`, Newtown, Odyssey Networks, Penn Station, Todd Broder, Trump, Uber, Union Station, West Point
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