The Pittsburgh Press (January 12, 1943)
I DARE SAY —
The unremembered
By Florence Fisher Parry
She said to me:
So many people tell me about their having known my father. They tell me this and that about him, and it always seems so unreal, hearing about someone I cannot remember at all. It seems so queer. A phantom father. Someone who had everything to do with my life and nothing to do with its living. There ought to be a way that children could remember!
And as she spoke, the picture came to me of the millions and millions of phantom fathers, the unremembered, destined by this war to remain myths to their children… never, never to win a place in their memories.
We are not told – yet – of the casualties. We will not be asked to bear the burden of these awful facts for a long time. Not until long after the war’s end will the grim statistics begin to amass. And then – because the peace will have been returned to us – it will not matter so much, except to those who find themselves bereft. Who of us remembers that one out of 10 of the AEF who were transported to France was a casualty in the last war? At the time, it did not register, or was it even told?
Now we know that that war was but a little prelude to this one; that its casualties, compared with those to come, will seem infinitesimally small. Oh, lives have been lost fast in past wars! The Marne and Gettysburg and the gaunt horror of Verdun still provide history awful records. But the deaths of this war will forever remain incomputable. The millions purged and starved, the millions dead of broken hearts and mangled dreams, the millions turned to zombies, living dead.
No compromise
The millions of unremembered fathers, their progeny disinherited of all memory of them! I pity them above all others. The young, the older, fathers, denied the gift of all remembrance, from those to whom they gave the breath of life!
Now the question arises all the time shell these young soldiers marry knowing they are to leave their brides? Shall they risk – or more, encourage – leaving behind them pregnant wives? It is not a question for which there is a wholesale answer; sometimes such action amounts almost to desertion, sometimes creates social problems almost insoluble.
But if solution can be found; if a way can be reasonably provided, I would say: YES! If a fine man is to be cut down before his time by war, far better that he leave behind some progeny! Far better that his wife be given another life to replace his!
There is no more bleak nor sterile premise than that upon which I see all too, too many war marriage built; the premise that because of the uncertainty of the man’s life, in war, pregnancy should be avoided at any cost.
Nothing could be more destructive to “that far-off divine event toward which the whole creation moves.” For a man to go into this war with the idea of saving the world, only to himself deny to its future his own progeny, is an
Of course, there are exceptions. Of course, there are hasty and inept war marriages which would do well to provide against the contingency of offspring. All over the country there is a surge of war marriages. Many of these should not be. They have in them a transitory urgency that bodes no hope of their endurance. Many of these marriages will dissolve after the war, by legal or other means.
It would be folly to turn our minds away from the countless artful marriages that are being contrived by wily parents and chiseling girls. It would be silly to accept as a sacred and unalterable vow the pledges which thousands of callow girls and confused boys are making at improvised altars and “justice” offices.
Parents too
But I say: When two responsible young persons, supported in their intention by their families, decide that in thew face of war and separation they are resolved to become man and wife, it is the duty not only of the young wedded pair but of their families as well to accept the full responsibility of that marriage, and all that normal marriage brings – including children.
I would no more consider that my son were fulfilling his obligation to the country he now serves, if he married now and then deliberately refused to have a child for the duration, than I would consider my daughter a fit member of society were she to undertake marriage now, fully cognizant of the separation and risk it entailed, only to plead exemption from its normal, full expectancies.
If young people who are to be torn apart by this war still insist upon marriage, let them enter it ready to take its most solemn consequences. And it is the duty of the parents of these young couples to stand ready to assume whatever is to be their share of those consequences.
I am shocked at the scurry of otherwise intelligent women to have their daughters “married off” hurriedly, to men in our Armed Forces, yet who profess unwillingness for their daughters to enter into any of the basic obligations of marriage.
If our daughters can’t have babies while their husbands are away at war, and mothers aren’t willing to help them through with them, then they’d better give up the idea of there being as war marriage.