By Bob Bussel
During the many protests I have attended since Donald Trump’s return to the presidency, I have noticed one sign that especially resonates with me. The sign typically reads: “My father fought fascism. Now I have to.”
My father, who is 102 years old, is a charter member of the “Greatest Generation” and what historian David Nasaw, in a new book, has called “The Wounded Generation.”
On April 29, 1944, five months short of his 21st birthday, my father’s B17 bomber was shot down over Berlin on its third mission. Half of his crewmates died, and he escaped the burning plane seconds before it exploded. He then spent a harrowing year in a German POW camp. This experience left him with a permanent sense of survivor’s guilt and a lifelong case of PTSD.
My father found some measure of solace from his “private war” with PTSD, as he described his postwar experience in a memoir written at age 85, through public action. He spent many years helping veterans navigate the VA bureaucracy to obtain disability benefits and has twice testified before Congress on behalf of veterans with PTSD and their spouses.
He has also been gratified by the reaction to his memoir, My Private War: Liberated Body, Captive Mind: A World War II POW’s Journey. His candid account has helped many professionals gain greater insight into serving veterans with PTSD. He has won praise from adult children who now better understand the struggles of their veteran parents who fought their own private wars.
For all that it cost him, my father has never questioned his military service or doubted its importance. An essential part of his healing came from joining with others to remember and honor those who died in the fight against fascism. He and other Army Air Corps veterans returned regularly to the base in England from which they launched their missions and celebrated their solidarity with the Brits in defeating the Nazis.
As my father observed in his 2003 remarks at an English military cemetery where over 3,800 Americans are buried, “We launched our combined armadas to defeat those evil forces who sought to enslave the free world.” He concluded by calling on those assembled to “rededicate ourselves, as a pledge to them, that our country will always remain free.”
However, my father has been deeply troubled by the re-emergence of Nazism, fascism and authoritarianism, which he has characterized as “the cancers we thought we excised.” The racist and antisemitic chants of neo-Nazis at the Charlottesville, Virginia, “Unite the Right” gathering in 2017, coupled with President Trump’s “very fine people on both sides” comments, disturbed him profoundly.
He views other stances of the Trump presidencies — mass deportation, disdain for the rule of law, an insistence that might makes right, equating patriotism with unquestioning loyalty — as dishonoring his legacy and that of his crewmates. He has seen this movie before and fears it will not have a happy ending.
At 102, my father remains remarkably lucid. However, his mental acuity is both a blessing and a curse, leaving him keenly aware of unrelenting assaults on the beliefs he heroically fought to uphold.
I differ from my father in one respect. The condoning of authoritarianism by some elected officials and segments of the public has made him pessimistic about the country’s future.
As a historian and lifelong activist, I am more hopeful. Each day, I see greater evidence of solidarity, resistance and true patriotism, the sentiments that guided my father and his crewmates. These sentiments are increasingly being backed by collective action and a growing unity capable of challenging fascist tactics and authoritarian practices.
Although the fight against authoritarianism and fascism is now occurring on domestic soil, the cause remains the same one that animated my father eight decades ago. To honor him and his crewmates at the next protest I attend, I will proudly display the sign: “My father fought fascism. Now I have to.”
Bob Bussel is professor emeritus of history at the University of Oregon and former director of the Labor Education and Research Center at the University of Oregon.