Spring 2011
Remembering World War II

By Amy E. Kelly
"On Sunday morning, December 7, 1941, my father and I were singing in the choir of Trinity Lutheran Church in Mason City, Iowa … As I recall, it was in the choir room that I first heard about Pearl Harbor. Surely this meant war for the United States!" – Dr. Olin J. Storvick, professor emeritus of classical studies
As the U.S. commemorates the 70th anniversary of Pearl Harbor this year, the events will evoke an array of memories for military survivors of World War II. Dr. James Hofrenning '50, professor emeritus of religion, wanted the stories of Concordia alumni and professors who served in the second World War to be told and remembered by many. He compiled the essays of more than a dozen World War II veterans into the book "Cobbers in WWII: Memoirs from the Greatest Generation." (Lutheran University Press, Minneapolis).
"The writers of these chapters are a remarkable group," Hofrenning says in his introduction to the book. "Most of them have not talked about those years in the service, probably because it was too painful. Now, however, they are willing to share that part of their life so their family, friends and society itself would know the nature of that incredible period in our country’s history."
Most of the stories are told in first person, the men and women remembering minute details of the war that in less strained circumstances may have been forgotten.
The following photos and excerpts are from the memoirs of these members of the Greatest Generation.
"The Battle of the Bulge" – Richard M. "Ray" Stordahl ’50
The day after we completed basic training, we were told that plans had changed and we were needed as infantry replacements in Europe where the Battle of the Bulge had just begun. After a ship ride to Europe and a two-day ride in a railroad boxcar to the front in Belgium, I was assigned to the Eleventh Armored Division of Patton’s Third Army. With less than a month’s combat experience, the Third Army was trying to stop the advance of the German army in what later would be called the Battle of the Bulge.
I was assigned to the Fifty-fifth Armored Infantry Battalion as a rifleman, replacing one of the many casualties sustained in the brief history of the division. At that time, the mission of the Eleventh Armored Division was to help stop the German advance in the area of Bastogne and Houffalize, Belgium.
Winter in Belgium is not nearly as cold as in Minnesota. Nevertheless, freezing weather at night and snow on the ground made life in foxholes extremely miserable. Many troops sustained frozen feet because their combat boots were not designed for winter combat. I had two pairs of hand-knit wool socks that my mother had made for me before I left the States, and I changed them every night, putting the spare pair around my waist and under my long johns to dry.
"From Washington to Cairo" – Jean (Ahlness) Stebinger ’43
During World War II, American women were considered too fragile to leave United States soil. Hence, on graduation from college in 1943, with much of the world in conflict, I watched my fellow male students head for military training the minute they left school. …
One day I saw a tantalizing ad asking if I wanted to be one of a few women who would work for American embassies in North Africa and the eastern Mediterranean. By 1943 those were no longer active war zones. My response was immediate and, to my surprise, I was accepted. In short order I found myself in Washington, D.C., ready for six months of training with the State Department.
"Learning how to handle passports and visas is fine," groaned one of the twenty-five women being guided through the intricacies of U.S. government dealings with foreign countries. "But will we ever learn to code and decode all these intelligence messages?"
"You’d better," responded an instructor. "That will be one of your main jobs." Impressed, back we went to struggle with our cipher machines.
Before long I was informed I had been assigned to the embassy in Cairo, Egypt.
"The Aerial War in the Pacific" – Norman M. Lorentzsen ’41
Flying out of Kerama Retto (about fifteen miles north of Okinawa) towards Japan, we met a fleet of kamikaze planes en route to Okinawa and Kerama Retto. We were at the same altitude. We estimated there were between ninety and as many as 115 planes. As we came closer to them, they opened up their formation and we flew right through the middle of them. My crew wanted to open fire on them; however, our main job was to alert the fleet at Kerama Retto. This we did. The carriers got their planes off. We later found out every one of the Japanese planes was shot down.
"The Manhattan Project" – Dr. Carl L. Bailey ’40, professor emeritus
By early 1945, we knew enough about the physics of the bomb to make a practical design. The necessary materials, primarily uranium and plutonium, were delivered in sufficient quantity. In July, the bomb was tested at a site in the southern New Mexico desert. Helping to set up and prepare for this test, I was away from Los Alamos for about a month. The device worked as designed. I will not forget the perfectly incredible burst of light I saw from a bunker at a safe distance away.
Naturally we were elated to see that our efforts had come to a successful fruition; but we felt keenly the troubling dimensions of that outcome. At the highest levels of authority, there was a very serious debate about whether or not the bomb should be used in the war. At our own level at Los Alamos, we too held a series of discussions along that line. Our talks at Los Alamos were very much like the discussions at the high command level concerning whether the bomb should be used in Japan. Of course, our local talks had no element of authority; we were only relieving and venting our intense feelings about the ambiguity, which accompanied our work.
When later we saw pictures of the damage of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, our worst imaginings about damage and carnage were verified. But on the other hand, we know what losses on both sides would have occurred if United States forces had invaded Japan.
Only a couple of days after the bomb was used at Nagasaki, we heard the incredibly welcome news of a Japanese surrender offer. That word allayed our sorrow over our infliction of such losses at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, for now we could say that the huge destruction of life which would have attended an invasion of Japan would be avoided. After the war, I talked with many young people, veterans of the European Theater of war, slated for assignment to the Pacific, who were very happy when their orders were altered.
"The Battle of Okinawa" – Dr. Olin J. Storvick, professor emeritus
The armistice was signed in Tokyo Bay aboard the USS Missouri, and General MacArthur used transport planes to bring his favorite division, the First Cavalry, from the Philippines to Japan. The American division, which had been in the South Pacific from the days of Guadalcanal, was brought by ship. The planes returned to Okinawa and brought us to Japan the next day.
We did not know what to expect when we landed in Japan and whether the surrender would be accepted by the people, so we carried our weapons, but no ammunition was issued to individual soldiers. I shall never forget the sight that greeted us as we landed at Atsugi Airdrome. We saw a line of emaciated American soldiers sitting on the ground along the terminal building. They were POWs who were to be flown to the hospital on Okinawa. It was another reminder to me of how fortunate I had been and how others had much worse experiences.
We were taken to Gotemba, a Japanese artillery base, as our first duty station. The first sergeant and I managed to find a Jeep, and we drove around that part of Tokyo. It was absolutely barren – block after block of empty space. Total destruction.








