Verhovayak Lapja, 1944 (27. évfolyam, 1-52. szám)
1944 / Verhovay Journal
iM h o v a y J o u r n a l VOL. XXVII. MAY 11, 1944 NO. 19. MOTHER! A great deal is being written about the heroes ot this war: their exploits fill the papers and magazines; novels are written and pictures are made about them. Undoubtedly these heroes deserve the attention paid to them, they deserve their medals, and they rightfully serve as idols for the youngest generation. They give up their jobs, their families and their homes, they part with their friends, and they leave everything behind to serve their country. ÍThey enter upon a road from which they may never return, and already the graves of fifty thousand of them are scattered all over the world. Their acts are known, their deeds are publicized, and their heroism is appreciated by the nation. But war has its UNKNOWN heroes, too. Heroes, or, rathér, heroines whose names appear only Occasionally in the headlines of the nation’s newspapers and magazines, and then only in connection with the heroic deeds of their brave sons. But mostly they re main unnamed and unknown. They receive no medals, no decorations. Bo special honors. Their sacrifices are accepted as a natural part of War, and their sufferings are overshadowed by the trials endured by the soldiers on the front. It Is to these unsung heroines of to-day’s war, that we dedicate this article. , * * * It is the woman for whom the Wounded soldier cries in his dying hour. It is the woman who has brought him into this world, whose caressing hands he misses so badly in the hour when Tie is about to leave this world. The Woman who sits at home in the endless agony of waiting while her son fights on some unknown battlefront ■.. the woman who many thousands of miles away, by some strange instinct, seems to feel the moment when her son has been wounded and the agony of approaching death makes him cry out: ‘‘MOTHER!’' The woman who holds in her bands a crumpled telegram: ‘‘The Secretary of War regretfully informs ...” She too receives then a crippling wound ... a wound that will never heal, the pain of Which will never fade... for that simple grave at Tarawa.. . Guadalcanal . .. Anzio . .. Africa ... Europe... contains not only the buried remains of her son, but the better part of her life, too. And what does she get? A posthumus medal... and a crumpled telegram ... a sympathetic letter írom the captain of her boy, telling her that he died bravely ... They are but wilted flowers on ■the grave of her boy... they will Bever bring back to her his smile f**. Ms jokes ... his beloved presence ... * # * i The Mother is the un-named, hhnknown heroine of this war, and, right along with her, the soldiers’ wives. Those young girls who had just a short drink from the cup of happy love when they had to let their husbands go. And they ... perhaps with a child or two ... remained here.... perhaps alone ... cMldren who will not see their father for years ... children who may never see their father ... And when her man receives a £und that cripples him for life .. . ... will also cripple her. And if he loses his young life out there on the bloody field of battle ... she loses her life too •.. only fragments will remain, and they will mend ... there will always remain a memory... a cut right through the heart ■.. and an orphan’s hunger to remind her that her life will be a war, even after peace is won. I * # * All these young ... and middle aged... and old mothers... they are thé unsung, unnamed, unknown heroines of the war. Heroines they are, because all through the days, and weeks, and months, and years of the endless and ceaseless agony of waiting—they carry on. They work in the mills and offices, they take care of their^ homes and of the other children ... they cook and mend and launder and iron, they clean and sew, they work for two, and in the evening they sit down and write letters to Him ... they bake cookies for him, they send him packages, all their thoughts and do- I gs and plans are centered around the one... or two... or three darlings . ., And through all this they try to show a cheerful face and they attempt to write “nice”, “newsy” letters, stiffling the fear, the anxiety of their wounded hearts ... * » * Don’t ever think that all will be forgotten when the boys come home. Those weeks and months and years of agony will never be forgotten. If you have ever seen a wife, or a mother, hug and kiss her husband, or son, on his furlough, then you will know that the agony these women suffer will leave lasting marks on their minds and souls. In some respects, it is harder on the mothers and wives than it is on their sons and husbands. They know the dangers they have to face and in the heat of the battle they even forget fear... but those left at home... they never know what those dear to them have to face... They may receive a cheerful letter from him at a time when he has already passed beyond all cheer and fear. While tears fill their eyes for joy over the good news he writes, their hearts tremble from the thought of what may have happened to him since he wrote that cheerful letter... * • * What makes these women of America heroines is, how they stand up under the terrific strain. They don’t break down, they don’t go crazy, they don’t lose their mind, no, not even their balance. They keep going. . . they do their daily chores, write their loving letters, work for the Red Cross, buy and sell War Bonds, read the horrible war stories of the daily papers, pray and hope, despair and cry in the darkness of the night . . , but every morning they are up again and keep going through the whole day • •. and the next.., and the next.'.. from week to week, from month to month ... What makes these women of America heroines is, how quiet they keep through all this horror. They don’t complain ... they don’t cry aloud ... with a sad little smile they tell their friends that "He” got promoted again . .. they sit in their churches . . , and little, silver pearls run from their eyes .. .That unceasing work, that unassuming Quiet patience, that uncomplainingly fulfilled daily routine ... that is what makes these women of America heroines . .. * * * Almost fifty thousand soldiers of the U. S. armed forces have made the supreme sacrifice up to this date ... Some forty thousand mothers and wives have also made the supreme sacrifice. .. They would have preferred to die themselves rather then those whom they loved .., They have made more than the supreme sacrifice . • they have given and lost some, thing that was worth more to them then their own lives. Many millions of American mothers and wives are walking to-day through the valley of the shadow of death. Their dreams are night-mares and their days are filled with anxiety. If our Red Cross workers and War Bond sellers and our miners and mill workers are SOLDIERS of the Home Front... then the mothers and wives and sweethearts of the soldiers are the HEROINES of the Home Front... and while so much is said about heroic production records ... so little is said about the heroic role played in this and every war by the mothers, and wives and sweethearts of our heroes on the battlefronts. * # * Once again, Mothers’ Day has come around. Soldiers from all over the world will remember their mothers. They will send them fancy pillow-cases from Panama, pretty table cloths from Texas and sweet messages from overseas. They will remember mother all right because after having been torn out of their homes, they have learned a lot in the way of appreciating their mothers for all those little and big things that they have taken for granted in the past. Sons, who in the past had found little time to talk to their mothers write them now long letters from far away lands, and those letters are full of homesickness—the greatest compliment a mother can receive. But what are WE going to do about it? Are we going to celebrate only the heroes who visit us on their furloughs, or are we for once going to remember the heroines of- this war: the mothers and wives and sweethearts of those gone to the war? Are we going to pin a carnation on their coats in our churches and clubs? That will be a nice way to remember, though, in a way, it will only mean heartbreak for them. Can we do anything else ? * • * Somehow, Mothers’ Day resembles Christmas Day. So many Christians remember their Savior only once a year, on Christmas day, and so many sons and daughters remember their mothers only on Mothers’ Day. It seems that a great many people have found in Mothers’ Day an outlet for the desire to find a cheap way out of an obligation. The carnation and the Mothers’ Day greeting card is supposed to be an expression of sentiment, but, in too many instances, it has served to replace sentiment. It certainly seems to be a cheap way to honor the heroines of this war with but a carnation ... * • * The Verhovay F. I. A. has fifty thousand soldiers... sons and husbands of so many mothers and wives. Indeed a fraternal organization, a brotherhood like ours, should find fitting ways to honor the Home Front heroines of our war. And the veneration of our heroines should not last for one day only and it should find expression in more than just a flower that will be a wilted memory by the next day. The men and women, and the boys and girls who are left behind, while their brothers are fighting, should find a way to make every day of the year a Mothers’ Day. With constant consideration, general helpfulness and an - ever ready smile they should stand by those mothers and wives and sweethearts and help them through the anxiety of the long months of an endless war. Make those mothers and wives feel that they are part of a great brotherhood, make them feel that they belong to a great family, don’t let them fight alone the night-mares of fear, honoring them on Mothers’ Day ... and forgetting all about them for the rest of the year. If our soldier heroes deserve being honored— and undoubtedly they do—then their mothers and wives also deserve all the honor and goodness and kindness we can offer them ... Thus we will honor not only these heroic women but their heroic men also, for they will remember—when they return—that those dear to them have not been left alone by us.
