Former NBC news anchor Tom Brokaw specially named World War II heroes “The Greatest Generation.” In his book by the same name, Brokaw presents endless personal accounts, anecdotes and memories from the generation
that came of age during the Great Depression and World War II. Shaping modern-day America, the
soldiers, men, women and children who lived through World War II were everyday Americans going through extraordinary circumstances. Over 600 Central students, faculty and staff joined the military and 21 gave their lives in active duty. There were approximately 500,000 U.S. deaths during the war.
Following the war, the GI Bill of Rights, which provided greater educational opportunities to returning World War II veterans, was signed by President Franklin D. Roosevelt June 22, 1944. The bill provided federal aid to help veterans adjust to civilian life in education, hospitalization, and home and business purchases. This act assisted with tuition subsidizing books and supplies, equipment and counseling services for veterans to continue their education. Partially because of this act, Central’s enrollment swelled to 601 in 1946 when just two years earlier enrollment was 215. Within the following seven years, nearly eight million U.S. veterans received educational benefits with approximately 2.3 million attending colleges and universities.
In the next few pages, three Central veterans tell their individual stories of that time — a time when the world was in chaos and Central, along with most communities, was struggling with change.
As a young man, Bruce Longstreet ’49 had a long life ahead of him. Growing up in New Sharon, Iowa, Longstreet decided to attend Central College in Pella, 15 miles away. He received a scholarship and started classes in the fall of 1942.
He felt comfortable at Central, even though he hadn’t ever been away from home.
“Central was a good pick for me,” he said.
Things changed when he was drafted in 1943 after completing a program called Army Specialized Training. He was sent to Fort Benning, Ga., for infantry training and moved to Camp McCain, Miss., for a few more months of training.
Longstreet was one of 20,000 men in the 94th Infantry Division and headed overseas to Scotland, then to England and finally France.
Battle of the Bulge
“I became a prisoner of war (POW) during the Battle of the Bulge in 1945,” explained Longstreet.
The Germans attacked Belgium and after a somewhat unsuccessful first round at Bastogne, the Germans regrouped and tried a second attack where Longstreet’s unit was located.
“We were sitting out there and caught the blunt of their 12th armored outfit,” he said. “They shot us up pretty bad, and they would, too, since they had more tanks in town than we had men.”
Longstreet’s lieutenant finally surrendered and Longstreet and others were taken as prisoners of war.
“Being a POW certainly wasn’t a piece of cake,” said Longstreet, who lost close to 100 pounds over five months.
“POWs didn’t get much to eat, you see,” he said. “The Germans weren’t even taking care of their own people by this time in the war.”
The POWs were served what resembled coffee in the morning — roasted, crushed barley.
“It was dark water — had no taste,” he said. “Some of us drank it, but normally we used it to wash since we got so little water.”
Lunch was a piece of German black bread, which consisted of bruised rye grain, sugar beets, tree flour (saw dust), leaves and straw.
“We got about a 1/6 to 1/15 of a loaf.”
The final meal of the day was usually bug-infested soup.
“It was good to eat bugs,” said Longstreet. “You at least knew you were getting your protein.”
Longstreet never saw soap, a piece of toilet paper, blankets or medicine. The winter of 1944-45 was the coldest winter on record in Europe.
“I almost thought I was going to freeze to death.”
Longstreet’s experiences shape his life today.
“The funny thing is, I still feel dirty after 60 years,” he said. “I always want to take a shower. And, I buy toilet paper by the case and get the best I can buy. I’ve got the best toilet paper in town.
“You learn to appreciate the little things. You appreciate the things you didn’t before. But, you forget a lot of the hard things, too. I think about it a lot.
“The indignities that man can bestow upon man, I’ve said this a thousand times, I just can’t understand how a person can knock another man down with a rifle and the things that go on. Sometimes guards would shoot you if you couldn’t keep up. Other times they would get you help. It just depended. I just cannot understand it all.”
Train rides, loaded into the infamous boxcars, were maybe the worst part of being a POW for Longstreet. With so many people packed in the cars, there wasn’t room to lie or sit. The longest ride took seven days and six nights equaling 180 miles.
“We had some who died, not by the thousands though,” said Longstreet. “I remember we sat on the bodies once they froze.”
Rescued
Near the end of Longstreet’s imprisonment, he could hear waves of bombers flying over the POW camp. The morning of Monday, April 16, 1945, the British 7th Armored “Desert Rats” came through the fences and rescued the POWs.
“It was a great occasion,” Longstreet said. “One man even died from excitement. I can’t remember cheering or hugging anybody. It was all done. We were liberated.”
Homecoming
Longstreet remembers coming home. It was 5:30 a.m. when the train arrived, and he realized the toll the war took on the people back home.
“I got off the train in New Sharon, and I was so happy to come home and so glad to see my mom and dad at the train station,” he said. “I just remember thinking how old my parents looked.
“It wasn’t just those fighting. Families at home suffered,too. It’s important to remember the war couldn’t have been won without the home front.”
After the war
For 45 years, Longstreet barely spoke about the war. It wasn’t something any of the young veterans who returned to college did. In fact, Longstreet still is finding things out about his roommate and classmates years later.
“When I came back to Central, the guys and I would sit around and play cards but we never really said anything about our time overseas,” he said. “No one came back and said, ‘Well, I was in the infantry… ’ You just didn’t come back and talk about it.
“It’s not conducive to fun — you wouldn’t want to do it over, but it was just something that we did. I’m not insulted or embarrassed about it.”
After graduating from Central in 1949, Longstreet taught in Gilman, Iowa, with other Central graduates before moving to Des Moines. He was a partner and later owner of American Abstract Company for several years and sold the business 21 years ago when he retired.
Freedom
“The American public is willing to accept freedom like they do any other government service. And it’s nothing like that. It just doesn’t come that way. And it’s not protected that way,” Longstreet said.
“There’s been such a tremendous price paid by so many people; so many heroes are dead. The atomic bomb and what great sinners we are … if it hadn’t have been for Pearl Harbor, there wouldn’t have been a need for the atomic bomb. If the Americans hadn’t stepped in and helped England, we wouldn’t have the great freedom and liberties we have today.”
Two years, nine months, 27 days, five hours and 15 minutes.
That’s how long Clyde Evers ’49 was enlisted in the military.
“It was no big deal,” Evers said of his career in the Army.
After one year of classes at Central, Evers was called to active duty March 10, 1943. He had a notice to report to Camp Dodge at noon and took a train from Des Moines to Sacramento, Calif. Once in Sacramento, he had five hours before his next train so he walked to the capitol at 3 a.m. and got back to the station by 5 a.m. Evers, the only Iowan, boarded a train at 8 a.m. to Marysville, Calif., at Camp Beale.
Evers was part of the 273rd field artillery battalion.
“I was an observer and was transferred out of the artillery into the 593rd joint assault signal company (JASCO) which had men in it from the Army, Air Force, Navy and signal corp.”
Although in the Army, Evers directed naval gun fire in combat working with the Army Air Force and the Navy. He trained for his position at Coronado Island, across the bay from San Diego, Calif.
Life overseas
Evers described a harrowing experience while in Okinawa and called it the only real battle he was in.
“We moved forward quite a ways and then all of a sudden we stopped. The Japanese were shooting phosphorus shells at us. Intelligence was telling us the Japanese didn’t have phosphorus shells, so they were blaming me with the artillery or someone else while we fought for shelter. We decided to retreat and headed backwards,” he said.
“That same day, we went back to camp and a shell landed right in the middle of a jeep. Everybody was a little jittery and thought the Japanese were coming after us. We stayed up all night watching, each of us taking a shift. There was a young kid out of Chicago, and this was his first experience in combat. He worked from 2-6 a.m.”
Evers woke up to gunfire.
“The kid from Chicago fired his gun,” Evers said.
“Something spooked him, and we told him to keep watching.”
The next morning Evers and the others woke up and investigated. Over the terraces was a vegetable garden with a bullet hole in a head of cabbage.
“The moonlight reflected off the cabbage like it would a helmet,” said Evers. “He didn’t get to live that one down.”
After his time in Okinawa, Evers went back to the Philippines. Shortly after, the deadly atomic-bomb dropped in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan, Aug. 6 and 9, 1945.
“I listened to Gen. Douglas MacArthur talking to the Japanese; of course, no one could understand what was being said on the Japanese side.”
Homeward bound
Christmas Day, 1945, Evers’ ship arrived in San Francisco.
“In my eyes, there was a great big red ribbon on the Golden Gate Bridge as the ship arrived in San Francisco,” said Evers. “What a lovely Christmas present.”
The troop had its final meal on board. Two lines served creamed chicken for the Christmas meal and only one line came down with food poisoning. Evers was fortunate he was in the noncontaminated line. After several hours, they were finally allowed off the ship. Evers went straight for the Red Cross tent, which was offering fresh milk.
“I hadn’t had fresh milk since I left (the states),” he said. “It was so good. Best milk I’ve ever had.”
Evers appreciated food, especially fresh fruits and vegetables. He remembers eating bananas and playing cards waiting for his ticket home in San Francisco.
“I was eating a whole bunch of them — all different kinds,” he said. “One day I counted how many I ate, and I counted 56 peels. I couldn’t believe it. And I probably ate three square meals that day as well.”
Evers took a train from the Bay of Pitts, Calif., to Fort Leavenworth, Kan., where he was discharged at 5:15 p.m. He then hitchhiked to Des Moines and took the bus to Pella the next morning. In Pella, he was greeted by one of his friends at the bus station who asked if he needed a ride home.
“I was hesitant because I didn’t want to get into a car accident,” he said. “I had come all this way, now I just wanted to make it home safely.”
Evers accepted the ride and was dropped off in front of his house at 125 W. 1st St. in Pella. He walked in and sat down on the sofa.
“Mom, I’m home. I made it.”
After the war
The GI Bill helped Evers continue his education.
“It took me seven years to get through college,” he grinned. “I started classes in the fall of ’42 and graduated in May of ’49.”
He received $96 each month. Central cost him $92 a month and the GI Bill covered tuition and textbooks, but not room and board, which was fine with Evers as he lived at home with his parents Jeanette and Cornelius Evers, professor of biology and physics at Central.
Evers enrolled in Iowa State University’s engineering program in the fall of 1947. After one and a half years, he changed direction and returned to Central in the spring of 1949 to be a teacher.
Upon graduation, Evers married Anna Williams ’49 and moved to Denver, Iowa, where he taught for nine years before making his home in Marshalltown teaching junior high and high school science and math for 28 years. He retired in 1986.
“The whole thing has been quite an experience,” he said. “But things worked out for me, and I’m glad.
As a junior, Howard Lubach ’48 entered the service as a reservist in October 1942. It wasn’t until December 1945 that he came home.
Lubach became a master sergeant, climbing the ranks from private first class. He received numerous medals including the WWII bronze star and combat infantry badge, the Asiatic/Pacific ribbon with two bronze battle stars, the bronze service arrowhead and the Philippine liberation bronze medal star.
Basic training
Lubach was assigned to basic training along with additional advanced training at Camp Roberts in California and was with the transportation company at Camp Stone.
They shipped out by themselves Dec. 10, 1943, and arrived in New Caledonia Dec. 23 as replacements.
War experiences
Lubach stayed in New Caledonia for a while before going to New Zealand, where he was assigned to the 103rd infantry regiment of the 43rd division, which had been in Guadalcanal.
“They got shot up pretty badly,” he said of the company they were sent to replace.
That was another training ground for Lubach and company. The next combat area was New Guinea, three degrees off the equator, where it rained every day.
“In New Guinea, we kept the Japanese bottled up in combat with fire fights and what have you,” he said. “There was another division with us and eventually, we decided we could leave New Guinea. With our training, we went to the Philippines on the Island of Luzon in January 1945. Our unit stayed and didn’t go into Manila at first. We ended up all over the island.
“One night we had a successful battle,” said Lubach.
“Our detachment got in a fire fight with five tanks and we knocked them all out. We were using 57 mm guns and all the other fire power we had. We took care of five Japanese tanks. It was done because it was necessary, as far as I was concerned.”
According to Lubach, the Philippines was a country that needed help and that’s why the United States was there.
“The Filipinos were under a really tough rule,” said Lubach. “We finally got the upper hand and the Japanese surrendered. And I think (my unit) had something to do about it [being attached to a strong fighting unit].”
Lubach believes the Filipinos are better off than before.
“They were glad to see us,” he said. “They were thankful we were there to rid them of the Japanese.”
After the two atomic bombs dropped in Japan and the armistice was signed, Lubach went into Japan to secure the airfield north of Tokyo.
“One of the striking things we saw when we were on trucks going up the highway, were the Japanese people bowing along the road. You couldn’t see eyes or anything else,” he said. “All you saw were bowed heads. The site kind of grabbed you. They were totally surrendered.”
Lubach was at the airfield for a good month before he boarded a ship headed back to “good ole uncle sugar.” On the way, they pulled into Okinawa because of a typhoon. They then sailed to San Francisco.
“The bridge was beautiful sight.”
Return to Central
“In many ways, the war was behind us,” he said. “As Dr. Nanes, professor of history, used to say, ‘Press on.’ She certainly had an influence on us. She was one teacher who mentioned those who served and were in her classes and personally thanked them. It really meant a lot to us.”
Being in his mid-20s, Lubach and others were ready for something else once back from war.
“I found a wife at CUI,” Lubach said referring to his wife Edie DeWit ’49, whom he married in 1947. “There was a friend of mine who used to say Central College was a ‘match factory.’”
A lot of veterans attended Central largely due to the GI Bill, Lubach included. It helped change the paths of many.
“We probably didn’t study as much as we should have,” said Lubach. “But, the returning GIs made an impact on Central. We were there to get an education, get on with our lives and continue to make things better as much as we could. When I first left Central, there weren’t a lot of fellows around anymore. When I got back, it was good to see those who were there before the war. Of course, some didn’t return.”
Lubach believes Central experienced growth as did each and every returnee.
In my eyes
“During WWII, the whole country was at war and it was something we were called to do, and I’m proud of that fact,” Lubach said. “It had to be done. I’m glad I made it back, and am thankful for it all.”
A few times it looked as if Lubach may not be heading home, but things worked out.
“Sometimes it was a tough go,” said Lubach. “I was mindful of the chaplain’s corp as far as giving soldiers support. It still brings tears to my eyes.
“I can truly say I was proud to serve my country and still feel that way,” he continued. “I’m proud of the U.S.A. The Greatest Generation is what they call us. It’s nice to be thought about that way.”
There was a feeling of unity in all the troops.
“We weren’t separated by Army, Navy, Coast Guard,” he said. “It was my fortune to come into contact with all branches in my tour of duty. That’s what the United States is all about.”
Korea
Lubach graduated with the class of 1948.
“I was two credits shy of graduating on time and had to take summer classes,” he said. “I got an emergency teaching certificate and took a job in Boyden, Iowa, in 1947.”
Lubach then taught in Sioux Center for 35 years before retiring in the spring of 1983.
After WWII, he stayed in the reserves as unattached/unassigned. However, that got him into the Korean War. He was called up Sept. 24, 1950, and had to leave three days later, Sept. 27, his son Bill’s first birthday. Lubach came home in July 1951.
“If I had to do it over again — I would,” he said. “I’m glad things happened the way they did for me. War is not a blessing, but blessings come from it.”
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Faculty Voice
By Lori Witt, assistant professor history
World War II brought significant change to American society. Over 15 million people from a variety of ethnic, racial and religious backgrounds either volunteered for military service or were drafted disrupting family life, work patterns and old ideas of social place. The war viewed gender arrangements, work and minorities differently and were reflected in both the military and in the American public’s support for the troops. “Home” was a powerful metaphor in American society during World War II, and the desire for it shaped social behavior, public policy and the extent of the changes begun in wartime.
When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor Dec. 7, 1941, the United States was a nation rebounding from over 10 years of economic depression. The war in Europe, began in 1939, and created a demand for American agricultural and industrial products. The Lend-Lease Act, passed by Congress in March 1941, spurred economic development further by authorizing the president to sell, exchange or lease American arms to countries whose defense was vital to U.S. security. This turned the United States into a great “arsenal of democracy,” and put even more people back to work. With jobs and a steady income after so many years of economic insecurity, the future looked bright to most Americans optimistically planning for the future.
Full enjoyment of future plans, however, had to be put on hold as, after Pearl Harbor, many men left wives and sweethearts for military service. In addition, many women served in the armed forces. Between 1942-43, women’s divisions of the Army, Navy and Marines were created. More than 350,000 women served, creating new roles for women in American society.
The men and women who served in World War II pledged to fight for democracy. They put the interests of their country ahead of their personal hopes and dreams. The GIs who did most of the fighting on the front lines, experienced the worst of wartime brutality, pain, fear and exhaustion with many succumbing to “battle fatigue” (the World War II version of post-traumatic stress syndrome) from the stress of combat. However, most survivors emphasized good things learned, such as the importance of loyalty to the group and a cause, and the feeling of self-worth from defending their country and democratic freedoms.
The U.S. Army, the largest of the service branches, was a microcosm of American society and symbolized “the melting pot” in military action. It brought together soldiers from urban and rural backgrounds, different religious faiths and ethnic roots. Most were second- or thirdgeneration children of immigrants, and their war time experience made them feel like full participants in American life. In addition, nearly 25,000 Native Americans served, bringing many closer to mainstream American life than ever before.
President Roosevelt’s Office of War Information (OWI) published pamphlets and posters, which promoted the diversity symbolized by the Army. The OWI celebrated the strength of the American people, united by patriotism and democratic values.
The melting pot and its image of American unity only went so far. In the Army, men of Chinese, Japanese, Korean and Philippine descent fought mostly in all-Asian units. Japanese soldiers had to work particularly hard to prove their loyalty to the United States, since all Japanese were viewed as potential spies. African-Americans, too, fought in segregated units. They fought for the “Double V”: victory over Germany and Japan abroad, victory over segregation at home. The separate status of both Asian- and African-American Army units reflected their place in American society. Yet, they fought for freedom and home along with the rest of the country, and by doing so, hoped to participate more fully in American democracy.
Popular entertainment revived with the economy in the early 1940s. American popular culture showered support and encouragement. Society praised baseball players, movie stars and musicians who joined the war effort. With so many baseball players enlisted, major league baseball shut down. Philip Wrigley started the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League (AAGPBL), which created new opportunities for female participants.
The rest of the home front mobilized for war, too. People participated in rationing programs, bought bonds, rolled bandages and volunteered time. Women entered the workforce in record numbers, causing perhaps the biggest change on the home front. The majority were married, signifying a new development in the female workforce, which up until 1941 had been dominated by young, single women. Women saw their work as important for the war effort; their work would bring their loved ones home. Many appreciated the wages and independence their jobs gave them, and while they wanted the troops to come back home, the working women understood they would probably lose their jobs once troops returned.
After the Japanese surrendered in August 1945, the cry to “bring the boys back home” became a reality. Returning veterans came home to people who respected and valued their war-time service, and to a government which, for the most part, greatly expanded their opportunities. Marriage and birth rates skyrocketed, and the demand for homes outstripped the supply. The development of suburbs took place as returning GIs built homes on small lots in subdivisions near major metropolitan centers. The Servicemen’s Readjustment Act, also known as the GI Bill, facilitated home building through low-interest loans for those who served and offered free college tuition. Over one million took advantage in the first year after the war, doubling college enrollments and changing the student body. Getting a college education enabled many from rural and workingclass backgrounds to move into professional jobs with paychecks of which they only could otherwise have dreamed about.
However, not all veterans shared equally in the benefits of the GI Bill. For example, benefits did not apply to Native American veterans who returned to the reservation. In addition, southern African-American veterans were prevented by local authorities from using GI benefits at non-segregated colleges. The bill limited job-training benefits to unskilled work and low-wage service jobs.
With men returning home, women returned home, too. Some were anxious to begin real family life. Others reluctantly gave up wages and freedoms of the workforce. Having gone through the Depression, they enjoyed the economic security of having a job. Yet, American society, as a whole, viewed gender roles in the context of the nuclear family, where the male was the breadwinner and the female took care of the house and children. Women were encouraged to return home and stay there. In the sports world, the AAGPBL survived into the mid-1950s, but succumbed to declining fan support and public interest in major league baseball. Similar to the women war workers, its players returned home, but not without having tasted the world outside the home.
For some women and groups who did not have expectations met through their war-time service, change was in the wind. By the 1950s, women quietly were going back to work, as industrial jobs were plentiful in America’s post war economy. In addition, the Civil Rights movement took off in the 1950s with the Brown v. Board of Education Supreme Court decision and the success of the Montgomery Bus Boycott. African-Americans pressed for equality and greater participation in American life, a quest begun during the Civil War and continued through World War II. Thus, social change came even for those Americans initially left out of the post-war prosperity. World War II raised expectations of home and freedom and worked to make American society fulfill those expectations when World War II did not.
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