Doughboys 1917-2017

I’m sure by now most of you have seen the pictures of the 18 year olds in 1944 climbing the beaches of Normandy and the 18 year olds today looking for crayons and safe places. I’d like to go back a little farther to 1917.

The 1916 election was won by Woodrow Wilson, thus making him the first Democrat since Andrew Jackson to win two consecutive terms. Wilson’s major platform was “He kept us out of the War.”  That didn’t last long, by April of 1917, the United States had entered the “war to end all wars” under the direction of General John J. Pershing. To raise military manpower for World War I, the Selective Service Act of 1917 was enacted by President Wilson. In the beginning the age of young men was from 21 to 31 however it was later changed to 18 to 45.

Many of these young men became known as 'doughboys, mostly because they were covered in dust and dirt, making it look as if they had been in a flour bin.  

Why am I writing about this now? Well over the last few years and especially the election of 2016 it has become apparent to me that an 18 year old today would not or could not survive in 1916. Please allow me to say I’m not talking about ALL 18 year olds. I do believe that there are however, many more than there should be.

Life in 1916, in general, was very different than life today. I’m not just talking about all of the technological advances, but life itself. First of all, most American’s still attended church regularly.  Very few teens were able to go to high school let alone college, and work was an issue of necessity, but also pride. Young men would work for free in order to learn a trade or find any kind of work that would support a family.

Many were still working on family farms. Farm workers start as soon as they can walk. Their work ethics are impeccable. Cows don’t milk themselves, chickens don’t gather eggs and no animal feeds itself. Farm work doesn’t take a recess or a vacation. Moreover safe places were to protect one from a severe storm or tornado.

Life in 1916 was not about feelings; it was about survival and purpose. There were no government programs to meet ones needs. If one needed help, for a short time, it usually came from family, neighbors or churches. Families with an extra room would take in a boarder to give a cheaper residence to someone and to bring in extra money. No job was beneath anyone.

I remember my Father telling me his mother would bake bread and sell it. His job was to deliver. He also left school at 11 to help support the family and this was much later around 1934. The times weren’t that much different nearly 20 years later.

Moving ahead to my generation in the 1950’s, the end of the baby boomers, I started working as early as I can remember. Not in the usual sense but as an example I had a great aunt and uncle who had a farm. At harvest time all the connected families would go to the farm to help my aunt and uncle. The men and boys would harvest the fields and the women and children would can or ‘put up’ as we would say the produce. Even a 3 year old can learn to shuck corn or snap beans. There was something for everyone to do.

Another time I remember an older neighbor couple needed to clear a field. I was about 5 and my brother 8. Mom and Dad were young and at my age I didn’t realize my folks were being paid I just thought we were helping. My job was to gather twigs and throw onto the fire to keep it going. I’m sure it was nothing but busy work but I was very proud of how many twigs I could find. It kept me busy, out of the way and gave me a sense of pride at the good work I had accomplished. By the time I was 9 or 10 I had learned to iron. I would iron for my aunt and probably made a dollar a basket.  She also paid me to bake her Christmas cookies. I’m sure today my parents would be charged with child labor laws but I though I was doing something great.

So when did things change? I’m not sure but once going to college became as common as going to high school and children were asked how they felt about things, the next thing you know everyone got a participation trophy. What? How do you feel? I am not talking about health, I’m talking about feelings… my feelings are hurt, my boss is mean, the customers were nasty, the company made  me work late… blah, blah, blah… boo hoo.

Moving forward again to today. The 2016 election, all of a sudden, a legitimate election is no longer good enough. He hurts my feelings, he makes me feel bad, my candidate didn’t win, etc. Oh no, what shall we do? My response is ‘get over it’. Move on, the world is not coming to an end. But no, that would be the adult thing to do. Instead let’s whine and complain until I get my way. Really?  College students are given ‘safe spaces’ or ‘comfort dogs’ and even ‘crayons and play doh’ so they can relax and feel better about themselves. Hence the nicknames, cupcakes, snow flakes and may I add doughboy, just a very different doughboy.

This brings me back to the beginning, 1917-2017. The doughboys in ‘the war to end all wars’ was as tough as one can get. There was no whining, crying or looking for a safe space. The only safe space they had was a foxhole! They were tough and mature when they entered the war and even more so when the war was over. No one had heard of arrested development. Scientist J. B. S. Haldane states arrested development as a "major evolutionary trend in human beings" is "greater prolongation of childhood and retardation of maturity." In 1917 there were no excuses for anything, if one was wrong one confessed and accepted the consequences. Over, done, move on.

Now before I get slammed about my broad brush, I’m not claiming that ALL young people are like this, I just suggest that many are. In fact I have the utmost respect for the military, especially now that we are an entirely volunteer service. However it’s not just young people, look at what the left is doing to try to delegitimize the President elect. What happened to the game is over there is a winner and a loser, the teams shake hands better luck next time.

So as we turn from 2016 to 2017 it will be interesting to see what happens at the Presidential Inauguration.  Which Doughboy will we see, 1917 or 2017? Only time will tell. Speaking of Doughboys, I suddenly have an urge for some cinnamon rolls.