ABSTRACT
Like most Americans born in the decade after World War I, I grew up with a fairly romantic view of war, reinforced by a pervasive climate of self-righteous patriotism. Tales of army life from my father and others, enchanting stories of far-off lands from sailors whom I encountered as a youngster, a boyhood admiration of Theodore Roosevelt, a decade or so as a Boy Scout with a sashful of merit badges, and a facility for outdoor adventure and contact sports led to a teenage urge to “go to Annapolis.” All of this also made me an easy mark for the growing anti-Japanese propaganda of the late 1930s. Nor did the frequency and occasional violence of the anti-Semitism familiar to most Jewish boys of that period nourish any reluctance to “go out and kill Germans” if the opportunity should arise.
