I’m turning 29 in Alaska this week…here’s a preview of my trip.
I didn’t know much about my grandfather’s tour of duty in World War II until I arrived at his wake. Until then, he had summed up his time in the service with a laugh and a joke: After enlisting in the Army Air Corps, he was stationed in Alaska’s southwest islands… on a boat. But it wasn’t until I saw the photos of his time there that I became intrigued with the place.
The grainy images depicted a remote, mysterious landscape, one so far removed from his hometown in New York where he spent the remainder of his life. I learned that as a member of the 11th Air Force, his boat duties were more significant than he let on; he was rescuing downed pilots who were engaged in an offensive against the Japanese to reclaim the two islands, Attu and Kiska, which they had invaded and occupied in 1942. My grandfather had only 15 minutes to get to the soldiers whose planes had fallen before they’d freeze to death in the Bering Sea. Today, my grandmother’s fading memory can recall only a few details from my grandfather’s time there, and as man of few words, she doesn’t have many to choose from. “He said it was beautiful but cold,” she recapped for me recently. Not surprisingly, I wanted to know more.
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