In the context of today’s rising antisemitism in the United States and elsewhere, exploring the experiences of American women and men in the American military during World War II sheds light on the intersection of history with current anti-Jewish attitudes.
Among the 16 million Americans who served in World War II, over half a million Jewish men and women enlisted or were drafted. Spread throughout every branch of the armed forces and over all fronts, many wanted to be sent overseas to fight Hitler. Ironically, while fighting against persecution abroad, they confronted anti-Jewish hostility in their military ranks.
In examining over 100 memoirs, interviews, and other first-person accounts, it becomes evident that Jewish service members often felt additional mental pressure due to their Jewish identity. Prejudice pervasive in 1940s America manifested itself within the military.
Jewish identity in the face of antisemitism
In my book True to My God and Country: How Jewish Americans Fought in World War II, I challenge the perception of a singular form of Jewish identification, and suggest that rather than suppressing identification as Jews, anti-Jewish hostility may have led to a reawakening, a strengthening, or an appearance of “religious feeling.” By anti-Jewish attitudes, I mean hostility toward Jews based on an irrational suspicion or resentment of Jews, or contempt.
What were the most frequent manifestations of anti-Jewish hostility encountered then in the military? Did they affect in the same ways Jews whose Jewish identification was strong and indifferent Jews alienated from Judaism ?
Two main categories of Jewish service members emerge – the indifferent Jew, and the proud Jew. The latter is the Jew for whom Jewishness is a heritage or is meaningful. The boundaries of these categories may overlap at times or be porous. Both groups faced discrimination, but proud Jews often found solace in their faith. These distinctions emerge from some 50 memoirs of American service members written in 1946, when their war experiences were still fresh in their minds.
Indifferent Jews, on the one hand, felt that their Jewishness was a psychic burden in the American military, especially if they perceived their Jewishness as an accident of birth and not as a meaningful heritage. Most of the veterans who submitted their wartime memoirs to the YIVO institution belonged to the category of the indifferent Jew. On the other hand, proud Jews, who relate their encounters with Jews and Jewish communities abroad during their furloughs, felt their Jewishness was meaningful. Participating in religious services abroad led them to build friendships with local Jews. This occurred after the Anglo-American landing on the shores of French North Africa during Operation Torch on November 8, 1942. Jews who considered Jewishness as a heritage were ready to pay a price for their being Jewish. They tended to describe antisemitic incidents with calm and sometimes humor.
Many memoirs account for the respect acquired through a fist fight that equated masculinity with fighting. Toward the end of their basic training, Jewish soldiers noted how camaraderie was born four months later. Wartime contacts between Jews and gentiles began to break through the barriers of prejudice.
Among Jewish GIs, a feeling of collective responsibility emerged during the war. The greater the estrangement, the more anxiety was expressed when describing the improper behavior of another Jewish serviceman. Several veterans wrote that they had to behave as best as they could because they did not want the American military to think that Jews were not good people. Many servicemen noticed that when a Jew does something wrong, he is called “a dirty Jew.” But when a Christian does something wrong, it usually goes unnoticed. Indifferent Jews felt this double-standard as a burden and wished that Jews would not get into trouble. Some Christian chaplains were more sympathetic to the needs of Jewish GIs than others. Those who conducted Jewish services with respect empowered Jewish service members. The same nuances could be applied to non-Jewish officers who facilitated religious observance, even in hostile territories in the Pacific in 1943.
Being the “adopted GI,” perceived as a liberator, of a North African Jewish family brought feelings of home while bolstering American Jewish identities. As a soldier wrote wittingly about those families, “their hearts were bigger than their cupboards.” In every war, demoralization plays a part, and the encouragement and warmth of encounters between persecuted French Jews in Algeria was a transformative experience for both sides. In other instances, indifferent Jews and proud Jews alike were impressed by the turnout for the celebration of the High Holidays by Jewish GIs with their steel helmets on and their weapons on their shoulders, a symbol of might. Previously perceived as a crutch, the Jewish religion was now perceived as might.
How did GIs, who felt their Jewishness was meaningful, cope with antisemitism? For example, Private Harold Baumgarten behaved differently than Jewish GIs who obeyed the orders of their commanders and threw away their dog tags to avoid the possibility of being sent to slave labor camps or shot by the Nazis. The dog tags issued to Jewish service members were stamped with an H for “Hebrew” and contained useful personal information such as name, serial number, date of most recent tetanus shot, and blood type. But many GIs kept their dog tags when captured so that they would have a Jewish burial. The 19-year-old defiantly displayed his Jewish identity when he landed on Omaha Beach in French Normandy, praying in Hebrew. In the first wave landing of the 116th Infantry Division on D-Day, June 6, 1944, he wore his field jacket, on the back of which he drew a big Star of David. Underneath the Jewish star, he wrote: “The Bronx, New York.” Wounded five times, he survived 23 surgeries.
Jews were considered a religious minority and not a racial one like African Americans. However, they could suddenly become ignored or rejected by others when their religious identity was revealed or discovered. Selma Kantor Cronan, a certified civilian pilot before the war, joined the Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASP) in 1943, taking her mother’s mezuzah with her. She wanted to fight Hitler and hoped to be sent overseas. But the WASP were disbanded without military status on December 20, 1944. Yet they had done drills and tested military planes after being damaged in crash landings and repaired. Doubly victim of prejudice, Selma confessed that during her service she never hid her Jewish identity but felt ambivalent after experiencing rejection by her counterparts on the military base in Avenger Field, Texas. She wondered whether she should not have been more discreet about her origin. In an interview in 2000, she admitted that she understood only later why she was “excluded” from some activities on the base. Her sudden appearance as a Jew behind the mask of a woman pilot caused alarm because of prejudiced misconceptions. But the feeling of belonging to a group vanished. Her example highlights the intersection of gender and religious discrimination.
Pilot Bernice Falk Haydu did not encounter discrimination on the base, but she wrote in a letter to her mother, “I want them to know,” referring to her Jewish identity. She later added that in her bay of six women pilots, they practiced six different religions and yet “got along well.” While I won’t develop the issue of gender discrimination discussed in True to My God and Country, I will recall the fact that some servicewomen had to confront anti-Jewish hostility, as well as sexist attitudes. Some servicewomen encroached on male territory, even though they were meant to free up male soldiers for the front lines.
These narratives attest to the dedication of Jewish GIs to their country and show that camaraderie helped them continue their personal fight against prejudice during and after the war. Although they confronted prejudice, Jewish men and women in the military nonetheless gained visibility as American Jews. The heroic behavior of Jewish women as pilots, mechanics, nurses, Women Accepted for Voluntary Military Services (WAVES), flying nurses who pioneered air evacuation medicine and members of the Women’s Army Corps also proved the exemplary value of their service as they risked their lives in dangerous assignments. They showed patriotism, resilience, excellence, and newfound confidence as they crossed gender and social boundaries. The Jewish women pilots I mentioned learned only after the war that more WASP members were of Jewish descent. Young Jewish women and men in uniform fought both as proud Americans and as Jews. Their struggle for acceptance and yearning for honor challenge the commonly held notion that Jewish identity was solely a burden. This notion resonates today throughout a world contaminated by the ubiquitous virus of antisemitism which threatens democracy, a value for which men and women in the military made sacrifices. ■