World War II

I’m not sure I can take 15 hours of the new Ken Burns series “The War.” Since my father’s death in 1996 war films and documentaries are hard for me. Generally it takes nothing more than the sight of a man in an Eisenhower uniform to put a lump in my throat. Last night I did fine until Bing Crosby started singing “White Christmas” and then hot tears rolled down my face. The images of grubby G.I.s huddled around record players and radios flashing on the screen were more than I could take. I didn’t fight in World War II, but it is intensely personal for me and Ken Burns has produced an intensely personal documentary. I’m not sure he’d know how to do anything else.

Interweaving images of the homefront and of the battlefield, the first installment of the documentary narrates a straightforward history of the progression of world events from the 1939 invasion of Poland to the bloody American victory on Guadalcanal in 1943. I knew three men who fought on Guadalcanal. One left a leg there and the second suffered from painful jungle rot on his feet for the remainder of his life. The third knocked back a shot glass of whiskey before he told me about his best friend who collected the ears of the Japanese soldiers he killed. The guy was finally sent home on a Section 8 when he beheaded a Japanese major with plans to make a lamp from the skull.

World War II wasn’t pretty and Ken Burns doesn’t make it pretty. You’ll hear things you don’t want to hear. You’ll see things you don’t want to see. During the segment on the Battling Bastards of Bataan (No Mama, no Papa, no Uncle Sam) a slow anger welled up in my chest. You see I knew a man who survived the Death March too. He was never “quite right,” drank too much, kept to himself, and slowly went blind. He almost starved to death and his eyes were damaged beyond saving. People in town said he was dangerous but damaged is the word, damaged beyond saving.

A Bataan survivor spoke of the beatings, the beheadings — at night the Japanese soldier would stick their bayonets out the window of trucks at just the right level to catch men in the throat. He described the way those same trucks swerved to run over men lying in the road — some already dead, some not. In another segment a grayed soldier described listening through a long night as the captured members of his patrol were tortured. The next day the Japanese soldiers who did the deed were captured. The commander asked who had lost friends the night before. Those were the men who got to shoot the prisoners. Very calmly the old man said some would say it didn’t happen, but it did.

While we the second generation may speak of forgiving and healing the wounds of the confict, we have no right to criticize any veteran for the feelings he still carries. You’ll understand that when you watch, “The War.” (For more of my thoughts on this subject, I invite you to read an archived entry on my personal blog, “The Local Nazi.”)

You’re not going to get a John Wayne version of the conflict in what Ken Burns has produced, and he’s been criticized for not portraying the totality of the experience for the nation in an ethnic sense. That may be true, but he’s still made something significant, something difficult, and something important. I may not be able to watch all of it, but I’m going to watch what I can and I highly recommend you do the same.

WWII, Ken Burns, The War