Volume CXXXII, Number 12 January 24, 2003 f

The dark war road, Part III
KID WONGSRICHANALAI
STAFF WRITER

History moved fast during that summer of 1940. On August 13, a few weeks before Bowdoin began its 139th academic session the Battle of Britain began. Across the Channel that had been sailed for centuries a new invading armada swept towards Dover's white cliffs. Long ago it had been the Romans with their ships and legionnaires. In 1940 it was the Luftwaffe, buoyed by its recent crippling of Allied operations in France that tried its hand at conquering the British homeland. Preliminary bombings had alerted the British to what was coming but many were still unprepared for "Eagle Day"-August 13-when 1,400 German planes from France flew to their targets in England. To fight this aggressor from the sky the Royal Air Force mobilized its Spitfires and Hurricanes. The heavens were darkened by the flying machines as they attempted to come to grips with each other for the rich fields of the island empire. The fighting in August raged on into the fall as Germany threw its fighters and bombers against Britain's best-the men Churchill had proclaimed "the few" who were owed so much by so many. Night bombings over London became a common occurrence as the RAF struck back with bombing raids against Berlin and the German homeland. Radar became a valuable weapon for the British military while civilians became accustomed to the sounds of anti-aircraft fire. The fighting raged on into the winter.

On the Bowdoin College campus there was also cannon fire; a battery of sixteen guns fired a salute which echoed across the quad and could be heard miles away. In a sense this was a fitting harbinger to what was to happen in the next few years but for the Class of 1916, celebrating their twenty-fifth reunion, it was simply to commemorate their love for Bowdoin. One hundred and seventy-six members of the Class of 1944-among them 21 sons of graduated Bowdoin men-joined the College that year. While there were the usual tensions of a new academic session there was extra trepidation that year; even the Orient admitted that it did not know how to greet the first-years. "We aren't quite sure if we should congratulate you or pity you," an editorial noted.

The passage of the Selective Service Bill has made us see clearly that we cannot be at all sure of the future. You have entered college during a period of uncertainty and indecision. For this we pity you. But, we do congratulate you for starting off on the opportunities which four years of college will offer you. You will have limitless opportunities and, come what may, there will always be a place in the world for the college man as you will soon discover if you have not done so already.

The Selective Service Bill, recently passed by Congress was, in a sense, to show the American people that the Roosevelt Administration was not sleeping on the job. War had broken out in Europe and all sides knew, whether they wanted to believe it or not, that one way or another America would be dragged into the conflict. As per the state's new law about one hundred and sixty-three men from the College journeyed to the Brunswick town hall to register for the draft. While there were conscientious objectors the process went smoothly.

There were other new options for those students who did not wish to be stuck in the infantry, for instance the Marine Corps or the infant Air Force. The Civil Aeronautics Administration (C.A.A.) aided the College in putting together a training course for students who were interested in learning how to fly as a preparation for further military service. The Controlled Pilot Training Course gave students a chance to soar to the skies for up to fifty hours on seaplanes-another seventy-two hour ground crew course along with a twenty-four hour study on air regulations were also required to actually receive a private pilot's license. There was, however, a limit to the number of men who could actually take the course. When the cap was raised from fifteen to twenty, however, the course was quickly filled. Bowdoin students, it appeared, enjoyed flying!

There were, however, dangers associated with this new found pleasure. Robert Gaston Page '41 learned that lesson the following May when his plane's engine stalled while he was practicing maneuvers above Topsham. As his plane began to descend Page knew that he had to either jump or find a place to safely set the plane down. The plane glided gently in the breeze as it swung, without power, above pine trees and lakes. Page was lucky, however, and found a small pasture, which seemed to be an adequate landing spot. Summoning all his training and concentration Page attempted to land, even though there was a pond, which flanked the pasture, and made the descent even more hazardous. Slowly the plane, under the control of a nervous Bowdoin senior, glided towards the pasture, touched the sought ground bringing its tail down with a rough tug, rolled along the uneven ground and came to a halt. Page, keeping his composure, walked to a nearby farmhouse and telephoned for assistance. When the Orient interviewed the lucky senior and asked what he felt, Page replied simple, "All I wanted was a cigarette."

Whether or not the United States was going to commit itself to another World War was certainly a topic of discussion that revolved around the possibility of having a new man in the White House. Franklin Delano Roosevelt sought an unheard-of third term as President of the United States and many feared that the dictatorship they saw rampant in Germany would happen here at home. Bowdoin's students certainly felt that way as expressed in an Orient poll conducted in the fall of 1940. According to the polling numbers Bowdoin students greatly favored the presidential hopeful Wendell Willkie by an overwhelming 78 percent. Everett Pope '41, captain of the tennis team and now a senior expressed his opinion in a letter to the editor:

President Roosevelt is seeking a third term. Even for a man with an excellent record behind him to ask as much would offend Americans of both parties; for this administration to attempt to perpetuate its tenure and its policies is asking too much of a once-tolerant public. … I ask you all to do your best to disrupt our present scheme, and to return to the American way with Wendell Willkie.

Among the faculty there was also discussion. While Prof. Orren C. Hormell favored Willkie like the majority of the students, Prof. Athern Daggett supported FDR for another four years; the Orient printed both opinions in one of its issues before the November election. The fact that the Bowdoin College students' opinions did not reflect national consensus should not come as a surprise to anyone; Roosevelt returned to the White House and would win one more election before his untimely death on the eve of victory in Europe.

That the war was coming was a known fact by many. While some joined National Guard units others considered different military branches. Some of those who joined the National Guard were called up immediately and did not return to Bowdoin till well after the war. The common feeling among the students was that they should have a chance to control their own fate rather than waiting to be called up in a lottery-this sentiment rang especially true for the seniors who were soon to graduate into the dark, dark world beyond. Both the Navy and Army came to Bowdoin to recruit for different branches of both arms. For many Bowdoin men, however, they chose a lesser-known branch of the armed forces. On a spring day, near the midpoint of the second semester Everett Pope '41 found himself staring in awe at a handsome visitor to the campus who wore a dark blue tunic and light blue pants with stripes down the sides. Wondering about the identity of this striking figure, Pope soon learned that he was a Marine recruiting agent. Here began Pope's involvement with the Marine Corps. Others in his class, including the beloved Andrew Haldane also signed up to serve.

Some house cleaning was done in the last weeks that the members of the Class of 1941 spent on campus. A young Richard Carlton Johnstone of Waltham, Massachusetts, Class of 1944 was elected to be the president of the sophomores for the upcoming year while Haven G. Fifield was elected the life president of the Class of 1941. Among the other life officers of the Class of 1941 were Everett Pope (Vice-President), Henry A. Shorey III (Secretary-Treasurer), and Lendall B. Knight (poet). And almost as if four years passed in the blink of an eye, the Class of 1941 prepared to leave Bowdoin's nurturing halls and walk out into the uncertain world. Baccalaureate day dawned with mixed emotions in the air. As the graduates and their guests solemnly processed into the First Parish Church-the church that had seen so much of Bowdoin's history-there was gloom and happiness but most of all, uncertainty. Kenneth Sills in all his wisdom and prestige rose, as humble as he had always been, as troubled now, as he had been in the days before the Great War came to America. Choosing the subject of duty as his topic Sills began to address the Class of 1941 for the last time as his beloved undergraduates.

When one passes to the consideration of the duties of citizenship one enters a field of controversy and honest difference of opinion…. In the first place a man is born into a country as into a family, and that simple statement implies certain obligations that no one can escape and if he changes his country and adopts another he enters into the same obligations. When young men become twenty-one they are now subject to the Selective Service Act. Not many of you here have any great enthusiasm for that act. Some of you are probably resentful, feeling that the act is unnecessary and that it is unfair to take away one or two years form a carefully planned life. … Living in a democracy that after all so far has done something for you and yours, you must obey the law; but living in a democracy you also have the privilege of trying to change the law if you so desire, of trying to persuade a majority of your countrymen to get Congress to repeal the law. Do you think for a moment you would have such a chance in Germany, or in Italy, or in Russia, or in what was once Austria, or Poland or Czecho-Slovakia, or Jugoslavia, or Norway, or Denmark, or Holland, of Luxembourg, or Belgium, in what was once and pray God will be again beautiful and free Greece? … There is no danger of losing or impairing our freedom and our democracy unless we prove ourselves to be a people too lazy and too inept to keep democracy. … You know what the right is, and, in the words of Burke, it is your duty to make the right prevalent. That is a great challenge worthy of the sons of a great college, and in meeting it, may God bless you.

Born in Bethel, Stanley Willis Allen '39 knew what is was like to wake in the dark Maine night and feel the cool breeze slide swiftly over soft human skin. The pine trees as the lakes and the coves were his home in this state that had become a part of him. Even while in College at Bowdoin, Allen did not leave his state. When not in school he worked as the manager of Bethel Restaurant, and saved up for a future he must have dreamed of. But Stanley Allen was a young man in troubled times and he knew his duty. Whether this last was inspired by the revered President Sills or the friendly and kind Dean Nixon, or whether Allen had himself been conscientious of what he needed to do to ensure his future and the future of the United States, he volunteered in the Navy after graduating in the Class of 1939. Allen went through the training, probably thought of home and the cool, clean Maine air on occasion and rose to the rank of ensign. His command was the battleship U.S.S. Oklahoma, based at Pearl Harbor.

Like the armada that swarmed the British homeland, this smaller wave of fighters, bombers and torpedo planes came across water to reach their target. Thinner than the ranks of the Luftwaffe, these pilots were more determined and had traveled much further to accomplish their mission. Having left their aircraft carriers at sea, the planes-marked by a red circle on their tails to designate the might of the rising sun-narrowed in on their targets. Their flight path took them past some of the most beautiful scenery on earth-untapped forests of tropical splendor, across rocky beaches where the bounty of the mighty Pacific was thrown. For the pilots, it must have felt like the flight took forever. Soon, however, they saw dwellings, civilians, unsuspecting or disbelieving citizens who looked upon these chariots in the sky with awe and sudden pangs of dread. The planes moved on and from afar they could make out the United States Pacific Fleet, in dock, moored to the shallow defenses of Pearl Harbor.

It was Sunday, December 7, 1941-the day of infamy. Shortly before 8 A. M. the first bombs were dropped. From afar and to the untrained eye of a civilian, it may have seemed as if it took forever for the projectile to descend. Perhaps this illusion was due to the magnitude of the event-was this really happening? Who would dare disrupt the glorious might of the greatest nation on earth? But slowly, helped by the physics of gravity the bomb would descend, pre-aimed by the pilot, and find its target. The explosions came from all around and bombs and torpedoes smashed into steal, ripped apart living quarters, armaments, human beings. Many of the Fleet's officers were ashore for the weekend and the ships were under the command of young men who had never heard a gun fired in anger-men out of college like Stanley Allen. Air bases on the islands of Hawaii were simultaneously struck by the Japanese attackers. The reign of terror from the sky wrecked dozens of planes that were still resting peacefully in the glittering sunlight. For those who were there, it must has seemed like the world was falling apart. Oklahoma took two hits and was already in bad shape when a third struck just below the center of the vessel. The senior commander onboard assessed the situation and realized that there was nothing he could do. "Abandon ship!" he ordered in an attempt to get the men to safety before it was too late. Shards of metal, pieces of dirt, debris and clothes flew everywhere as the darkened halls tilted under the ship's punctured hull. As the men were in the process of evacuating a fourth torpedo struck and blew the battleship slightly upwards. When Oklahoma landed, she turned on her side and capsized. The men who had been holding onto the railings slid forward and fell towards the water, their ship coming down upon them. The Arizona, most famous of the wrecked battleships was struck by a bomb in its forward magazine. The eruption could be heard even over the sound of the raging battle. As the ship exploded from within it took with it 1,500 of its crew. Four hundred members of the Oklahoma perished with her. The final count found 3,600 casualties along with six battleships destroyed, more than half a dozen other vessels damaged, and almost two hundred planes burning in the Sunday afternoon. Clouds of thick black smoke billowed from the wreckage as oil and blood filled with harbor and the sirens and alarms began to be heard over the cries of the wounded and the dying. As the smoke rose above the battlefield it clung against waving U.S. flags and then continued to rise, following the wind that blew it, along with news of the attack, towards the continental United States. To the nation Franklin Roosevelt would declare that America had entered the war and to Bowdoin College, the news would later confirm that Stanley Willis Allen had been one of those killed in action onboard the U.S.S. Oklahoma.

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