On December 7, 1941, my sister, Edith, eight years my senior, and I were in Gray’s Drug Store, Hampton Boulevard, Norfolk, Virginia, a few miles from the U.S. Naval Operating Base.
My brother, ten years my senior, enlisted in the U.S. Navy on December 7, 1939.
We lived at 1231 West 47th Street, one city block from the Gray’s Drug Store.
It was the worst of times owing to the Great Depression. Unemployment was rampant.
It was a cloudy Sunday afternoon.
Norfolk obeyed the Blue Laws, permitting only essential services to operate on Sundays.
Even at ten years of age, I sensed the seriousness of the hushed speech in the crowded store, run by “Dr. Gray,” a tall, kind pharmacist who was our chief medical consultant.
A radio was playing, but I could not hear the announcer.
Something terrible had happened; I could see it in the faces of the shoppers.
Edith firmly grabbed me by the arm. “We are going home right now. We have to tell Mother what happened!”
“What happened?” I begged.
As we got closer to home, Edith started running.
“Mother,” she shouted. “The Japs have attacked Pearl Harbor.” Edith cried.
My mother screamed and prayerfully lamented, “Our Father in Heaven. Hallowed be Thy name. Please protect Randolph…he is hardly more than a boy.”
Randolph’s ship, the USS Craven, was stationed in Pearl Harbor.
We did not see Randolph for four years, but we heard his life was spared because the Craven was en route to Pearl Harbor from Sydney. As the Craven slowly approached Pearl Harbor, it was not targeted by the Japanese.
Our “Situation Room” and “Communication Center” featured an Emerson Radio in the middle of the house. The Norfolk Ledger Dispatch daily newspaper and the radio kept us informed.
We respected President Franklyn Delano Roosevelt, General George S. Patton, and Joe Louis, the Heavyweight Boxing Champion of the World, 1937-1949. We always stopped to listen when they were on the radio.
Ten of my brother’s military awards hang on the wall of my study, in full view as I remember him.
As WWII progressed, Randolph was transferred from the USS Craven to a cruiser, and finally to a battleship.
Twice his ship was torpedoed, forcing the crew to “go over the side” into the ocean.
My mother did her best to maintain her family’s traditions. We threw parties for servicemen.
In 1943, Randolph’s ship was badly damaged. A “skeleton” crew included Randolph. Theship limped from the Pacific to the U.S. Naval Shipyard in Charleston, South Carolina.
My entire family, except for me, drove to Charleston to visit Randolph. I was left behind to attend school.
Randolph never talked about the war.
The brother who left home at 17, “hardly more than a boy,” never came home.
The person who came back suffered from Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, for which there was no diagnostic name until 1980, 35 years after WWII ended.
He went from job to job, never succeeding. He moved to San Francisco and finally came home feeling unsuccessful, unhappy, and misunderstood, to live with my parents until they died.
Randolph died of cancer.
I held his smooth, soft, gray ashes in my hand, but I did not follow his will to sprinkle them over our mother’s grave, but not over dad’s.
“The conflict between you and Dad is finally over,” I utter subvocally.
Most of Randolph’s remains fell on his mother’s grave, but his dad’s grave also shared his disputed post-cremation form of life.
My mother tried to resolve the father-son turmoil by urging/demanding Randolph’s enlistment in the Navy when he turned 17.
About 417,000 Americans died in World War II, most of them military personnel. Approximately 407,316 were members of the Army, Navy, Marines, Coast Guard, and Merchant Marines.
Worldwide casualties during World War II included 15,000,000 battle deaths, 25,000,000 battle wounds, and 45,000,000 civilian deaths.
Of the 16 million men and women in the U.S. military service during WWII, one person out of every 40 died.
The Gold Star placed in a front window indicated that the service member was killed in action. It is a hallmark symbol of an American military family’s sacrifice.
I remember the anxious suffering we all experienced during WWII.
Alvin Smith and I were friends and neighbors in the seventh grade at James Madison Grammar School.
One day, Alvin invited me to come home with him after school. His mother had baked us a treat.
Alvin and I were quiet, introverted, and insecure, but we enjoyed each other’s company. He lived on 38th Street, and I lived on 39th.
As we walked up the steps to his house, a Gold Star in the window caught my eye, but I said nothing, afraid of saying the wrong thing.
Alvin’s mother spoke softly, took us to the kitchen, placed a warm, freshly baked apple pie on the table, and wanted us to enjoy it. Each of her motions was deliberate and effortful. Somehow, I sensed her grief.
Alvin’s house was uncomfortably quiet.
I wanted to say something helpful. I do not remember if I said anything other than, “Thank you, Mrs. Smith.”
It was more than eight decades ago, but I still recall the details as described and the awful, unspoken grief that engulfed us.
Death filled the news and our neighborhood. Alvin lost his brother. A family near us lost their three sons, Tom, Dick, and Harry.
The hardships of WWII were moderate for most of us. There were shortages of everything. We all had ration books and paper drives, and we prayed for our loved ones.
Air Raid Wardens conducted Black-Out drills at night. Randomly announced exercises at school required rapid exits to the basement.
But we were not attacked by bombs, missiles, or drones. City blocks were not destroyed by enemy fire. We lived and trained for the threat of violent attacks, but we were spared.
Military historians tell us that war is always with us. Common folk like you and me ask why.
Most of our wars began as defensive acts against aggressive attacks by our enemies.
Some national leaders, intoxicated with an insatiable thirst for power, suspend critical judgment, devalue the meaning of human life, and inhumanely attack countries incapable of mounting adequate self-defense.
An accurate term of national leaders portrayed above is evil.
Personification of evil nation leaders is a flourishing vampire, fat with the blood it has sucked from the carotid arteries of helpless nations, which they have ingested and excreted.
As with all intoxications, nothing satisfies, nothing is enough, and their ugly ending is among the most miserable.
Rational explanations of “Why do the nations rage?” (Psalms 2: 1) are tackled by theological scholars.
The Bible does not mention Adolph Hitler or Vladimir Putin specifically, but it offers principles that explain why leaders wage war against the will of their people.
Biblical theology believes that wars result from human traits such as pride, greed, and a desire for power.
These influences can lead leaders to prioritize their own interests rather than those of the people they serve.
The Bible suggests that unchecked human power leads to corruption and oppression, echoing Lord Acton’s idea that “power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
The Bible uses the shepherd as a metaphor for leadership: good leaders protect their people, while corrupt ones use them for personal gain.
Ezekiel rebuked Israel’s leaders for neglecting their people, ruling harshly, and scattering those in their care (Ezekiel 34:2–4).
Proverbs 29:2 illustrates that people are happy under righteous leaders but suffer under wicked ones.
War is a spiritual struggle against evil rather than merely a political conflict.
The Bible often depicts God using wicked nations or rulers to judge sinful people, but still holding unjust leaders responsible (Isaiah 10:5–7).
The Bible acknowledges war’s sinful origins but does not require absolute pacifism, occasionally justifying armed conflict in limited cases.
War is sometimes undertaken to protect populations from acts of aggression.
Exodus 22:2 is cited to support the moral justification for self-defense against immediate threats.
The “Just War” tradition holds that war may be considered morally justified when its purpose is to restore peace and justice.
Though conflict exists, peace will ultimately come through Christ’s victory and the establishment of his eternal kingdom—not through human efforts.
Mankind causes war, but only God can bring lasting peace.
I remember WWII.
Forget, ignore, or remain unattuned to the human traits causing wars, and wars will spring up like mushrooms in the darkness.
Robert S. Brown, MD, PHD a retired Psychiatrist, Col (Ret) U.S. Army Medical Corps devoted the last decade of his career to treating soldiers at Fort Lee redeploying from combat. He was a Clinical Professor of Psychiatry and Professor of Education at UVA. His renowned Mental Health course taught the value of exercise for a sound mind.
