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John Long

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From the RoundTable blog

Last month, I took a look back at Thanksgivings in our area during World War II. So I thought it worth taking another look back to see how a valley at war spent the Christmases during the biggest conflict in human history.

1941: The terrible news of Pearl Harbor is only weeks old, and the smoking wrecks halfway across the globe fill Virginians with a sense of dread. No good news yet has come from the war zones, but the shock of Pearl Harbor is giving way to a resolute determination. There was a long road ahead, but no one seemed doubtful of eventual victory. Reserve officers are being called into active duty, while volunteers flock to enlist.

There's a war on, but it's still Christmas, and a somber, subdued celebration is in order. In Salem, Mayor Charles Brown issues a thoughtful proclamation: "The great nation which we love so much is now engaged in another [war] of world proportions"; a struggle to determine if "liberty and justice can long endure." Also dean of Roanoke College, Brown had recently helped organize a campus "War Committee on Morale" to keep students and the community informed (and supportive) of the war through publications and speakers. Off campus, a Civilian Defense system is being formed to protect the valley from the dreaded Hun.

1942: Luther Bell, chairman of the Roanoke County Board of Supervisors, has finally received a commission as a Captain in the Marines. A World War I veteran, he had tried to enlist just after Pearl Harbor but had been declined due to his weight. Bell diligently lost 40 pounds in his determination to get back into uniform. Such is the patriotism of the day.

For the kids at home, there will be plenty of toys, but few metal ones. Santa will brave enemy fire to bring only wooden and plastic playthings, since metals are reserved for the war effort. Food rationing will change holiday menus a bit, but there are no real shortages as experienced in other nations. Recipes for sugarless treats can be found in local papers. The phone company requests that long-distance calls be minimized, freeing the lines for official business.

1943: "In spite of the ill-will and brutality of a wounded world, Christmas is like a beautiful, shining, cheerful oasis in a land that is dark and barren," opines one writer in response to some, who've called for not observing the holiday in the midst of the crisis.

The German field gun, captured in World War I and used as a war memorial on the lawn of the Roanoke County courthouse, has been moved to a more visible location in the square. It's a subliminal reminder that we've already beaten them once. Actually, that the gun survived the scrap metal drives was itself a Christmas miracle (the same gun is still on College Avenue in Salem).

1944: The optimistic hope earlier in the year that the war would end by Christmas has been shattered by Germany's attack in the Bulge. Still, despite the apprehension that the dreaded telegram could arrive at any moment, folks on the home front plan a joyous season. Both the Lutheran and Baptist orphanages in Salem will celebrate in grand style, thanks to donations received from across the nation. At the Veteran's hospital, a dance, movie nights and a Christmas feast are among the plans to thank those who served in prior wars. At Mercy House, the valley's poorhouse in West Salem, a turkey dinner will brighten the day.

1945: The first Yule since the end of the war is a season of joy and grief, hope and reflection, celebration and somber remembrance. Some 132 local homes have empty seats at their tables, but many others welcome home a son or husband happily attired in civilian dress. Fathers spend their first Christmas with children they have scarcely, sometimes never, seen. There are still shortages of some consumer goods and foodstuffs, but everyone seems confident that such trifles will be a thing of the past by 1946. Across the valley, the nation, the world, there is unadulterated relief. A long war is over, and if the world has not been made perfect, it has at least been made better. The Christmas promise of peace on earth, goodwill to men seems a little closer, and still too far away.

To all who served, and to all who still stand between us and those who would do us harm, Merry Christmas from my grateful family to yours.

Long, director of the Salem Museum, is a Roanoke Times columnist.