In the spring and summer of 2001, the former AT&T Long Lines Headquarters building at 32 Sixth Avenue in New York City was sold to the Rudin Corporation. I had a vested interest in the lobby of that building because that is where a plaque commemorating the memory of those serving in World War II is located. Three of the men who worked with me in an office in St. Louis are memorialized because they lost their lives in combat. A fourth man, who also lost his life at Iwo Jima and who was a close associate in St. Louis, is missing from that plaque for bureaucratic reasons.
I started calling and writing letters to see what I could do to save that plaque. Curiously, no one in AT&T seemed interested in moving that plaque to the new company headquarters in Basking Ridge or to Bedminster, New Jersey. This was a piece of history, but the people at AT&T had other fish to fry. One of my letters paid off. That was the letter to Bill Rudin, the CEO of the Rudin organization. He said the plaque would be cared for and given its deserved place of honor. When I visited 32 Sixth Avenue, Bill Rudin did exactly what he said he would do. The plaque is well lighted and the obstacles that had been placed in front of the plaque when Long Lines owned the building were gone. I have written Bill Rudin to tell him that the plaque is better displayed than at any time in its history.
Unknown to me, Bill Rudin suggested to Warren Hegg, who is associated with the Veteran’s History Project, that perhaps I had a story to tell about World War II. The History Project is an effort to tell the history of the people who served in World War II. Warren called me and in a few days he sent his son Ryan, to meet me at my home. I told Ryan about my involvement in the war and gave him some photographs and other exhibits that he could use in making a digital recording of my thoughts.
The Veteran’s History Project is dedicated toward preserving stories of service for future generations. All of this work is intended for use by the United States Library of Congress. And so now I have a four or five minute digital recording of my story about the plaque at 32 Sixth Avenue in New York.
On June 6, 2002, the Veteran’s History Project sponsored a big celebration aboard the carrier Intrepid. There were some interesting speakers and the whole program went off well and it ended at 12 noon, when they said the festivities would cease.
On the way to the Intrepid, my wife asked me if I had ever attended another veteran’s affair. She said she couldn’t recall that happening. I said that in the 57 years I have been out of the service, this was my first involvement with a veteran’s group. I forgot that in 1946, I had attended an organizing meeting for the American Veteran’s Group, but I didn’t find it appealing, so I left. And so for all intents and purposes, the meeting aboard the Intrepid was my first involvement with old soldiers since 1945.
Everything in the program on June 6 went well but I felt somewhat embarrassed by references to how much other people owed the old soldiers and sailors. This takes nothing away from all the veterans who did a good and valorous job in World War II. They did all of that. I simply had a sense of slight embarrassment. The reason for my concern is that I did what was expected of me. I was 19 years old with no dependents. I didn’t see any reason why I should not be part of the war effort. In short, I enlisted because it was my duty to do so. No more, no less.
The enlistment came in the summer of 1942. My views have not been altered by time. In 1942, I thought it was my duty to enlist. Now sixty years later, I still feel the same way. When I had a young and growing family, it was my duty to feed them, to provide them a good place to live and to make educational opportunities available to them. It was my duty to attend to my parents when they became ill at the end of their lives. It was my duty to attend their funerals. There is no need to sponsor parades for people treating their families fairly. That is a duty. I look at my duty to my family and to the United States as being identical. So nobody owes me anything.
Maybe it would be good to be a hero and have admirers tell you how great you are. But I am afflicted with the words from an oft-told story where the man says, “I seen my duty and I done it.” Grammatically, that may be improved upon but the sentiments pretty much fit me exactly.
E. E. CARR
June 9, 2002
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I wonder if there’s any chance of Judy still having a copy of that recording. If she does, I’ll make sure to update here!