Whenever my mother wanted to get a moment’s peace from the barely-controlled chaos of six children born within 7 years, she would do what came naturally. She called cadence.
At once my sisters and I would become soldiers, my brothers being teenagers and too old for the game. We marched around the ottoman, into the hallway of the low-income projects in which we lived, back again around the wooden picnic table that was our dining room table and past jammed bookcases.
Mom would read calmly, bellowing out a rhythmic chant that still came easily even after nearly 20 years. She was a member of the “greatest generation” before that phrase was ever coined and one of the 150,000 women or so who entered the Women’s Army Corps during World War II. Although she was a corporal, she filled in as a drill sergeant when needed at one of the four stateside bases she served at from 1944-1946.
At one time, 16 million Americans served in the military during WWII, 400,000 of them women. When I was a kid, it was ordinary to have a dad who had served, but I didn’t know anyone whose mother served in the Armed Forces.
Of all those patriots, fewer than 250,000 are alive today, the vast minority of them women.
My mom died in 1978 before it was cool to have served during WWII, and long before women were recognized for their contributions. Yet she never stopped believing in women’s potential, in their service, in women’s equality, long before such a belief was common.
Her relentless optimism gave me courage and confidence. If I am a success today, it is because she believed in me when I was a child.
This year, she would have been 100. I have lived two-thirds of my life without her.
But the centenary of her birth made me begin a quest to explore military women’s contributions, starting with the Congressional Record, leading to an unusual memorial in the neighboring town of Sprague, Conn., and finally, a museum dedicated to military women in Arlington, Va.
In 1941, Rep. Edith Nourse Rogers, R-Mass., proposed legislation authorizing the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps. She based the bill on her own observations of women’s excellent service overseas during WWI. But her legislation went nowhere until the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Congress debated the bill in 1942, but many lawmakers expressed horror. Connecticut’s Sen. Francis T. Maloney insisted, “it would cast a shadow over the sanctity of the home.” Kentucky’s Rep. Beverly Vincent, a veteran of World War I, sputtered that the proposal was, “the worst bill that has been introduced in this Congress.”
Women in the military would ‘cast a shadow over the sanctity of the home,’ said one senator.
But Sen. Robert Reynolds of North Carolina countered, “Are we to deny the patriotic, courageous women of America the opportunity of participating in this war?,” he said. “I ask every member of this body to permit the women of America to do that which they are desirous of doing.” They did, and the WAAC opened its doors.
Women proved their worth. General Douglas MacArthur declared that women were “my best soldiers.” Others agreed. A year later, in a lopsided vote, Congress authorized the Women’s Army Corps (WAC), making the women full members of the military and eligible for pensions. (My mother, later in life, developed heart trouble and received a Veteran’s Disability pension, for which we had the 1943 legislation to thank.)
Mom would have loved a beautiful, and unusual, veteran’s memorial in the nearby village of Baltic, within the town of Sprague, Conn. It features a bronze statue, life-size, of a woman combat soldier in military fatigues. Her rifle lays on the ground beside her as she genuflects in remembrance of a deceased comrade before an upturned rifle, in bronze, with bayonet plunged in the ground, helmet draped over its gun stock. There I met state Sen. Cathy Osten, herself a former Army sergeant. Osten was the town’s first selectwoman (the New England equivalent of mayor) when the statue was dedicated in 2019.
Osten was the only female member of the town’s American Legion chapter when the membership voted to commission a statue of a female combat soldier at the town’s Veterans Memorial Park and raised money to pay for it. “What the statue says to women who served in the military is that ‘you are recognized; we see what you do,’” Osten said. “We think this is the only public statue of a female combat soldier in the country - at least, we have not found any other.”
It’s a far cry from the the message the military gave women after their WWII service. The military closed to women once again, until 1948. Congress then capped women’s membership at 2 percent of the military, limited military specialties open to women and barred them from becoming admirals or generals.
Gradually, barriers fell. President Lyndon Johnson signed a bill in 1967 that ended limits on percentage of women admitted to the military and the ban on promotions. The nation’s military academies opened to women in 1976. Barriers for most military specialties fell in the mid-1990s. The bans on women serving in combat or on submarines, fell in 2015 and 2010, respectively. Now women make up 20 percent of the military.
To ensure women’s contributions will not be forgotten, the Military Women’s Memorial has catalogued the stories of more than 304,000 of the 3 million American women so far who have entered the military. Its ambitious goal is to record the narratives of all women who served. We added my mother to the records, for all of her descendants to read: Jane Irene Murray, Tech 5 (the equivalent of corporal) 1944 to 1946.
Yet as I pondered, again, how best to celebrate her 100th birthday, I figured out what was bothering me.
When my mother died we followed her wishes: cremation, no wake, just a funeral Mass. We had no flag-draped coffin to honor her, no Taps played over her grave, no soldiers to solemnly fold the flag she loved. In the years since, I’ve felt especially guilty about that, especially because I pushed for her wishes. I didn’t understand at 20 that funerals are for the living, not the dead.
So I filled out a form on the website of my congressman, Rep. Joe Courtney, D-CT and requested that a flag be flown over the U.S. Capitol, then mailed to me. (The service is open to anyone for a small fee to pay for the flag and shipping.) The exact date could not be guaranteed.
I requested my mother’s birthday, and I got lucky.
On August 19, 2022, a century after my mother was born, the flag she served flew over the U.S. Capitol.
She would have been proud.
Such a wonderful way to mark your magnificent mom’s 100th.
That pic of your mom is one of beauty and determination, both often found together.