The War Is Over!

Mary Lee


THE WAR IS OVER!

We were at the beach
and when we arrived
back home, still wet,
Mom, was laughing
and crying and laughing.
She gave us the news
and we knelt
to say a prayer.

"You’ll always
remember this day,"
Dad said.
And to make sure,
he made us sit
on the front step
for one last picture
of his homefront army.


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

This is last of the poems. Thank you for reading Kids of the Homefront Army.

Miracle Cure!

Hank


The thoughts and hopes of all America--indeed of all the civilized world--are centered tonight on the battleship Missouri. There on that small piece of American soil anchored in Tokyo Harbor the Japanese have just officially laid down their arms. They have signed terms of unconditional surrender.

Four years ago, the thoughts and fears of the whole civilized world were centered on another piece of American soil--Pearl Harbor. The mighty threat to civilization which began there is now laid at rest. It was a long road to Tokyo--and a bloody one.

Harry S. Truman, radio address September 1, 1945

MIRACLE CURE!

President Truman announced
terms of unconditional surrender
and suddenly my shortness
of breath and the tightness
in my chest are gone.
It's the first time in a long time
I've been able to breathe.
I never realized until just now
that for the past four years
I'd been holding my breath.





© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Harry S. Truman Library & Museum

Plus Six

Gary


PLUS SIX

We're all in a dither.
Matt should be home soon!
The war is winding down.

He was drafted in '42.
He's served his time.
--and then some.

But Dad reminds me
of the "plus six" clause.
"For the duration plus six."

Six more months!
It's not fair, but as Dad says,
"Who said life is fair?"


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Article from Connellsville, Pennsylvania, The Daily Courier, August 14, 1945.

Hiroshima and Nagasaki

Michael


HIROSHIMA AND NAGASAKI

Two cities bombed--
obliterated--to end a war
that has gone on for
what seems an eternity.

Is it right to end the killing
of American servicemen
with the killing of Japanese civilians?
I just don’t know...


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo, "Japanese family camps in ruins of Nagasaki, having built temporary shelter from bits of metal and wood debris on the terraced hill that was once row on row of houses," courtesy Harry S. Truman Library & Museum.

My Musical War

Helen


MY MUSICAL WAR

Uncle Mick has come home
--badly scarred, but whole.
He and Mom are downstairs
right now, jitterbugging to
"I’m Beginning to See the Light."

They’ve played it at least
six times and don’t show signs
of stopping. That song will be
the one I’ll remember when I
think about the war ending.

When I look back I hear
"We’ll Meet Again"--a tune
that in my ignorance I thought
more hopeful than sad.

Then there’s "He Wears a Pair
of Silver Wings" to remind me
of neighborhood boys who
ran off to become flyers.

Sinatra singing "Snootie
Little Cutie" brings back
the handsome Marine who
nearly swept me away!

Ooh, listen! They’re playing
"Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive"...
excuse me while I go downstairs
to listen to another memory.


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Sheet music from author's personal collection.

V-E Day

Sarah Jane


V-E DAY

In my religion,
it is a sin to dance,
but I don’t think God
minded that today,
I joined a conga line
that wound its way
around town.
Today, May 8, 1945,
the war with Germany ended
with celebrations,
parades, hugs and kisses,
banging pots and pans,
horns tooting, confetti throwing,
dancing and praying.
All these were ways
of thanking the Lord
that the boys in Europe
are coming home.


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Norfolk Public Library.

The Train

Pearl


THE TRAIN

The only other time I saw the president
was when we both had gone to enjoy
the therapeutic waters of Warm Springs.
Mr. Roosevelt took the time
to speak with some of us guests.
He mentioned his new puppy.
I said, "I have a cat named Fluffy."
I was young and didn’t know not to
interrupt such an important man.
He listened to me ramble on
about kitty cats and puppy dogs,
and when I finished, he smiled.

Today, years away from Warm Springs,
I’m in a crowd of soldiers, sailors,
and hundreds of civilians
waiting to pay their respects.
We listen attentively to the whistle
that signals the train’s arrival.
The crowd surges forward without me.
On the grass this wheelchair’s
not worth a tinker’s damn.
So, from behind, I salute, and
whisper a long overdue thank you
to the man with the smile.




© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Top and bottom photos courtesy Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library.

Newsreel

Howie

NEWSREEL

No actor is part
of this movie.
These liberated prisoners
are not horror film extras.
This is not Hollywood illusion.

This is evil and it is real.






© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Newspaper clipping from the Oelwein Daily Register, April 9, 1945.

Janus

Arnold


JANUS

This year we studied mythology
--Greek and Roman gods.
One of them was Janus, god of transition.

Transition means to change.

Poor Janus--looking backward,
looking forward. Always moving--
never in the here and now.

I'm like Janus.

I see my father as he was
before he left to fight the war.
Soon, I'll watch him turn civilian.

How he is today is what is unknown.

When he left I was six inches shorter.
Just a kid. Now I'm practically a man.
He won't know my voice when I speak.

I used to hate girls, but not anymore.

Dad knew me as a child, he'll know
me as an adult. But what about now?
Does Dad feel like Janus, too?

I wonder if he's as scared as I am?

When we meet we'll have to turn
our heads away from the past, turn
from the future, and look at us as we are.

Will we like what we see?


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

The Little Drummer

Carol


THE LITTLE DRUMMER

Every Sunday Aunt Katie comes
for dinner with that pesky baby.
Mama always lets him bang
a tin can with a wooden spoon.
Oh, what a noise! Daddy's
complained about it for months!

This week there's been good
news from Europe every day.
Today Mama went to the parlor.
She took her prized pillow from the sofa.
She gave it to my little cousin and said,
"Beat the hell-o out of it, little man."

Yes, MY MOTHER really said that!
"I won't need that old pillow anymore,"
she said. "My boy will be home
soon and I'll squeeze him instead."
Daddy and the baby just laughed
and laughed as the feathers flew.


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Sweetheart pillow from author's collection.

This Close

Isaac


THIS CLOSE

I came this close
to being shot last week.

My neighbor Margie
is sweet on a soldier
from the nearby camp.
Since I work as a delivery boy,
Margie thought I might deliver
a letter for her—would I!

I took off on my bicycle.
The gate in front of camp
was open, so I rode right in.
“Halt!” yelled a sentry.
He ran toward me
with a rifle held chest high!

I nearly crapped myself.

After questioning, I was
permitted to deliver Margie’s letter
and encouraged to bring more!
Today Margie told me that
she and her soldier are getting married!
Ain't that swell!


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

Class Assignment

Miranda


CLASS ASSIGNMENT

Miss Barnes gave us
a rather odd assignment,
or so I thought, at first.

We were each to make
an autograph book and
head downtown.

Once there, we were
to gather the autographs
of every serviceman we met.

We were not to look for
heroes, but for the common
sailor or foot soldier.

We were told to be polite,
to introduce ourselves, and
to carry on a conversation.

Miss Barnes indicated
that we might be surprised
by what happened.

We were surprised!
By the delighted "Who me?"
By the willingness to comply.

And most of all,
by the enormous smiles
of ordinary guys

who suddenly stood
taller than admirals
and generals.

Selective Service

Parker


SELECTIVE SERVICE

After Pearl Harbor
the Selective Service Act
was quickly revised.

Men ages 18 to 65
had to register. Eighteen?
My cousin, Ted.
Sixty-five?
Both my Grampas!

Ted joined up before
he could be drafted

My brother, at 16,
was safe. But before
we knew it, it was 1943.

Ed turned 18, and by
that time, the rules
had changed again.
Eighteen was draft age.

Off to war he went.

Guess what? Draftable
is anyone up to age 45.
Dad's turned 44--he's
not out of the woods yet.

And, me?
I just turned 17.


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Article clipping from the Racine Journal Times, May 12, 1944.

Animal Husbandry

Alex


ANIMAL HUSBANDRY

First wolves, now cows.
Who comes up with these
names? I've been reading
of the Milchkühe--milk cows!

Another name for damn u-boats.
Milk cows offer the "wolves"
sustenance. Supplies at sea.
Without returning home to port.

Stop, no more! Let's speak
plainly!--Nazi pig bastards
are what they are, and we're
gonna roast them all.


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo of captured u-boat, U-505, courtesy U.S. Navy.

Kilroy Was Here

Evelyn


KILROY WAS HERE

I don’t know who started it.
The story I heard was
it’s an inspector in Boston
who drew the big-nosed face
on ships that he had okayed.
But who knows, there are
other stories going round.

Leave it to the sophomore boys
to pick up on a fad and overdo it.
They think they’re so clever.
KILROY WAS HERE is now in
every girls room in the school.
I know my brother had
something to do with it.

That’s why I decided to get even.
I snatched a pair of his drawers
from the line and drew Kilroy
on the seat of the pants.
I’m sure mother will figure out
who defaced Jimmy’s drawers.
I have a feeling she’ll be laughing.


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo, from the WW II monument in Washington, D.C., by Kurt Magoon.

Russian Sniper

Dinah


RUSSIAN SNIPER

I can't get it out of my head.
The photograph of a Russian
sniper. A headline reading
Germans Just 'Snakes'
But, it wasn't a rifleman--
it was a rifleWOMAN.
Yes, a woman! And I have
no doubt, none at all, that
she could, and would, kill.

So why, after more than
two years, hasn't this war
ended? I think someone's
not telling us the whole story.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Clipping from the Oakland Tribune, October 6, 1942.

The News

Art


THE NEWS

The war goes on
and yet, I think an end
may be in sight.
I'm totally obsessed
with the news, so I
must walk to the library
every day only to be
faced with papers
a day old or older,
the reports inside their
pages no longer new.
Still, it will have to do
until the church bells
ring out news of victory
using no words at all.


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Poster courtesy North Carolina Digital Collections.

Another Christmas

Charles


ANOTHER CHRISTMAS

Another Christmas.
This is the fourth
since Pearl Harbor.
I hate being selfish,
but isn’t there anything
besides war bonds
that Santa can leave
me this year?


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Christmas card from author's collection. Note: to see the inside of the card more clearly, click on the image.

Mrs. Roosevelt's Underwear

Frances


MRS. ROOSEVELT’S UNDERWEAR

With the rubber shortage,
elastic is no longer being made.
Underwear has gone back
to the old-fashioned type
tightened at the waist by
buttons or a drawstring.
I’ve heard a story that
one day, while giving a speech,
Mrs. Roosevelt’s underwear
came undone and dropped to her feet.
Without stopping or making
a fuss, the First Lady
stepped out of her underwear
and continued on.
Imagine that!


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

Man On the Bicycle

Owen


MAN ON THE BICYCLE

One thing we hope never
to see in our neighborhood
is the man on the bicycle.

He delivers THE TELEGRAM,
bringing messages of a loved one
maimed, missing, or dead.

Nowadays, no one chooses
to send a telegram,
not even for news of a birth.

The man on the bicycle
is no longer welcomed
around here.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Telegram courtesy World War II-Prisoners of War-Stalag Luft I, used with permission.

War-Time Romance

Homer


WAR-TIME ROMANCE

I take my girl down
to Frenchman’s Bay
for a little talk and
maybe something more.
Glancing over the water
we see nothing, only
stars in the distance,
and yet, we can hear
a steady thrumming—
the muffled sound
of an engine.
She leans against me
and breathlessly whispers
"U-boat,"
before she nibbles
on my ear.


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Postcard courtesy Boston Public Library.

Do You Hear Belles?

Brenda


DO YOU HEAR BELLES?

Sorry to be boastful,
but a woman can do
most anything nowadays.
She picks up a shovel
to turn over a victory garden.
She hefts a welding torch
and puts together a Victory Ship.
And now I’ve heard,
that right here in Wisconsin,
women have shown up
to replace men on
baseball diamonds.
Summer’s coming and I
can’t wait to see those Belles
put together a victory season!


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Welding photo courtesy Library of Congress. Photo of Sophie Kurys of the Racine Belles from the author's personal collection.

Bond Rally

Donald


BOND RALLY

Everyone loves going
to a war bond rally.
When Hedy Lamarr is
giving kisses for bonds
who wouldn’t pay $18.75
for a note that will be
worth $25.00 ten years
from now?

Big-star bond drives
happen in California.
In this eastern city,
we get circus clowns.
No matter, bonds sold
by clowns, and bonds
sold by stars, both
keep our boys flying.



© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress. Poster stamp from author's collection. Poster courtesy University of Maryland.

Postcards

Mary


POSTCARDS

He joined the navy
to see the world and
to send us postcards
from exotic places.

He ended up sailing
all along the east coast
protecting America from
unseen German subs.

And so, when he’s in port
he sends us postcards
of Boston’s baked beans,
swans at a park in Virginia,

or Mama’s favorites—
from a city called Providence.
His being in Providence,
she says, is a good sign—

Providence is another word
for "God is watching."


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Postcards and photo from author's collection.

June 6, 1944

Cathleen


JUNE 6, 1944

It’s almost as though
everyone is walking
on tippy-toe.

New York City is quiet—
hushed and listening
for the latest news

of the invasion
that will lead us
on the path to peace.

Or not, depending
upon how it goes.
For now, all eyes

are on the news line.
All hearts have stopped beating.
Please, Lord...

Please.


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress. Note: if you click on the photo, it opens in another screen and the news ticker is easier to read.

The Last Period

Jerry


THE LAST PERIOD

We have a little celebration
to bid farewell
to our favorite teacher.
We joke, we tease, we laugh.
We make promises to write.
Then suddenly,
the talk stops.
There is nothing else
we can say without
one of us choking.
Of course,
men don’t cry,
so we stare at the wall
and pray for the bell
to ring.


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photos from author's personal collection.

Whispers at Hebrew School

Eben


WHISPERS AT HEBREW SCHOOL


Whispers

Whispers

Whispers growing

Louder

Louder

Louder words:

Condemnation

Deprivation

Exploitation

Retaliation

Concentration

Extermination!


What is the Hebrew word for enough?


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

A Discussion of Stars

William and Jack


A DISCUSSION OF STARS

Hey, did you hear
Martin got killed
in a jeep accident
out in San Francisco?

Yeah, I heard.
I can’t believe it.
He was only eighteen—
three years older than us!

I wonder if Mrs. Metcalf’s
going to change his blue star
to gold?

Why wouldn’t she?

Well, it’s not like he died
on some Pacific island
fighting the Japs.

But, he’s still dead.

I guess you’re right.
Dead is dead.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

Birthday Dinner

Forrest


BIRTHDAY DINNER

One of Dad’s favorite meals
is meatballs, gravy, and
hot buttered noodles.

Tonight the table is set
for a birthday dinner.
Dad is ready with
a broad smile and a
napkin tucked into his shirt.
Mom dishes out a big
portion of meatballs, gravy,
and hot oleoed noodles.
Dad takes a bite of meatball.
He chews.
He swallows.
"Darlin’" he says,
"You did something a
little different here."
"It’s just chopped chuck
and an egg," Mom says.
"And...?"
"And Wheaties?" Mom says.

"Uh, huh," says Dad
putting down his fork.
He turns to us. "Hey kids,
who’s ready for cake?"

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

A Plane!

Linda


A PLANE!

Oh! There’s a plane!
I hate when a plane goes by!
There aren’t many that fly over,
so I know if I see one it means
the Nazis are coming.

They’re coming to bomb us,
or maybe they’re going to the
POW camp in the next county.
Either way, there’s Nazis overhead.
Quick, let’s hide in the barn!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Poster courtesy University of Maryland.

The Last Straw

Kenny


THE LAST STRAW

I turn off the water
when I brush my teeth.
I don’t travel unless
it’s absolutely necessary.
I never waste food.
I shut the lights
when I leave a room.
I reuse boxes until
they fall apart.
I can’t get tires for my bike
for the duration.
I wear Grandma-knit sweaters
instead of store-bought.
I give up my Saturdays
to work for the Junior Red Cross.
But this is the last straw—
no two ways about it—
this is the last straw!
Due to wartime
paper restrictions,
Comic Cavalcade
was cut to 92 pages.
Now, a half-year later,
it’s been cut to 84!
At this rate, my favorite
comic book will disappear
by...
by...
before you know it!

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Comic Cavalcade cover courtesy DC Database.

Shortages

Ava


SHORTAGES

Appliances, hosiery,
butter, coffee, shoes,
anything rubber, sugar,
gasoline...

The list goes on and on,
but I think, what I miss most
are the smiles, the teases,
the boasts, the charms,
the arms, the kisses
of boys.

Gone to factories.
Gone to war.
Gone.




















© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Stockings, fuel, young men posters courtesy University of Maryland.

Free Admission

Laura


FREE ADMISSION

The Regent Theater is
giving free admission
to the matinee if you
contribute records.

It’s for the war effort.

The records are used
in making shellac.
Don’t ask me what
the shellac is used for.

It’s for the war effort.

I don’t think I can
bear to part with one
of my Sinatra records.
Not the Jo Stafford ones!

Not even for the war effort.

Maybe, just maybe, I can
get some of Enrico Caruso’s.
No one but Papa listens to opera.
And if he protests, I’ll say,

"It’s for the war effort."

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Sam Samuelian.

Booty

Marshall


BOOTY

Captain Long John Silver
would be proud of a crew
that collected as much booty
as the soldiers of this town have done.

Wooden boxes that had been
sent to the front filled with medical
supplies are now coming back
packed with the spoils of war.

Bayonets and pistols,
collar emblems and medals,
field glasses and scopes—

items captured and sent home
to mothers who don’t
give a damn about treasure.


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy WW2 Museum Online.

When I Grow Up

Barbara


WHEN I GROW UP

When I grow up
I'll join the WACs.
Instead of dresses
I'll put on slacks.

When I grow up
I'll join the WAVES.
I'll learn to swim
and I'll be brave.

When I grow up
I'll join the Nurses
and save the soldiers
from rides in hearses.

When I grow up
I'll join the poets.
My words have power.
My rhymes will show it!



© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. WAVES, WAC, and Red Cross posters courtesy University of Maryland.

Loose Lips

Johnny


LOOSE LIPS

Whenever I pass that poster
hanging at the package store
I get this picture of a giant
standing waist deep in the ocean.
He sneezes and his lips go flying--
"Watch out below!"

It makes me laugh,
and if I’m laughing
I won’t be thinking
about something I may have said.
Something a lousy Kraut
could have overheard.

I don’t want the ghost
of no sailor saying to me,
"Johnny, you bastard--
you should have kept your mouth shut!"
Nope, I don’t want no ghosts
talking to me.

Not ever.


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Poster courtesy The Wire.

A Ceremonial Launch

May


A CEREMONIAL LAUNCH

Mrs. Roosevelt came
to launch one
of the ships Dad helped
build at the shipyard.

I’m small, so Dad’s
coworkers pushed me
closer where I could see.
I ended up next to her!

She raised a bottle
of champagne high,
ready to christen the ship
with foam and bubbles.

When Dad saw me so
close, he grabbed me
and lifted me out
of the way of flying glass.

Gosh darn it!
I stood right next to
Mrs. Roosevelt and still
missed the whole thing!


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.

A Tanka

Tomo


A TANKA

high desert wind
Manzanar dust scratches
our throats raw
still we sing in the choir
and smile for the camera




© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Top and bottom photos by Ansel Adams, courtesy Library of Congress.

The Train Stop

Madeleine


THE TRAIN STOP

Before the war, the train stopped here
only to pick up coal and water.
This town was never a destination.

Now when the train stops,
soldiers and sailors scramble off.
They stretch their legs.

They’re greeted with a big "Hello,"
and a substitute sister’s smile.
My job is to pass out the doughnuts.

Once, a soldier was so grateful
he gave me a kiss—my first!
I was so surprised, I couldn’t enjoy it.

Now, please, don’t tell my mother!
If she finds out I’ve been kissed,
my doughnut days are over!


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Junior Girls Canteen photo from the collection of Scott D. Trostel, used with permission.

Uncle Lenny

Ronald


UNCLE LENNY

My mother nearly collapsed
when she heard that
her brother had been
shot down over Germany.

We knew nothing for
weeks, until one day,
the Red Cross notified us
that he was in a POW camp.

And then we got a letter.
Uncle Lenny is okay.
He is with other Americans.
He has only one request:

Send socks.


© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved. Photo courtesy Library of Congress.