A celebration of American freedom leads to a friendly-fire incident in the wake of French liberation. Decades later, French and American descendants come together to commemorate both the liberation and the loss.

Cruel irony can be exemplified by no event better than the crash of an observation plane on July 4th, 1944. As the 90th Infantry Division completed its push for the capture of Hill 122, a celebration of the Fourth of July led to friendly fire downing and ending the lives of pilot Alfred Howard and observer William Windeler. Though such an incident is rarely expected to contain a silver lining, as a result, collaboration between French and American legacies blossomed, the courage of even more liberating forces was honored, and a measure of healing was found.

Independence Day of 1944 must have been a red-letter day for the men of the 90th Division. On the 3rd of July, the 3rd Battalion of the 90th’s 359th Regiment liberated the village of Prétot. They fought as part of a general US Army push farther south of the Cotentin Peninsula, following the capture of Cherbourg on June 27th . Morale must have been at a rare high, between the turning tides in battle and the celebratory spirit of the holiday. Reportedly, Army headquarters gave permission “to every carbine, rifle, machine gun, or artillery gun” to fire at the sky in celebration (Levaufre). Sometime that day, pilot Captain Alfred Howard, and his observer, 2nd Lieutenant William Windeler, took off from an airfield near the Chateau de Franquetot in a Piper L4 “Grasshopper”.

William George Windeler, a resident of Oakland, California, was twenty-four in July of 1944. He attended Piedmont High, in Piedmont, California, then the University of California, where he earned his undergraduate degree. During his high-school and college years, he was well-known locally for his athletic prowess, as well as his community involvement as a Sea Scout leader. He enlisted in the Army immediately following his graduation from the University of California, and was sent overseas in April of 1943.

Thirty-one-year-old Alfred Ryland Howard, known to friends and family as Ryland, hailed from Houston, Texas. He was an accomplished young man, having graduated from Rice Institute, the University of Texas law school, and Stanford Military academy, and having served the city of Houston as assistant city attorney. He enlisted in the 36th Infantry Division’s field artillery Battalion in 1940. When he was sent overseas in March of 1944, he left behind his new bride, Edith Anson, whom he married in August of 1943. At that time, they were expecting their first child.

By the time Howard and Windeler took off on that fated Independence Day, their 344th Field Artillery Battalion had been temporarily separated from the 36th Infantry Division, and attached to the 90th Infantry Division to support the liberation of the Cotentin Peninsula. That day, they were intended to assist in directing the artillery firing on infamous Hill 122.

They were never able to land. Their Piper L4 was hit, and crash-landed in a farmer’s field near Prétot, tragically ending the lives of both servicemen. Howard was survived by his young widow, Edith, and his parents, Dr. and Mrs. A. Philo Howard. Windeler was survived by his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Robert Windeler.

While no definite cause for the crash is listed in the official records, servicemen present in the area on July 4th testified that the shell which took down Howard and Windeler’s aircraft came from an American gun– likely a 155mm Howitzer. With so many shells in the air, both celebratory and offensive, it was more than likely that an accident would occur. Still, no units claimed responsibility for a friendly fire incident. The wreck remained where it fell, abandoned, for decades, and eventually disappeared, along with the memory of Howard and Windeler. Almost.

That is, until the owner of the field where the Grasshopper crashed met with the French historian of the 90th Infantry Division, Henri Levaufre, to share the story. “I remember one day meeting with a local farmer in a village named Prétot not too far from Hill 122 who told us about the wreck of a US observation plane,” remembers Christian Levaufre, chairman of the Normandy 44-90th Infantry Division Association, and Henri’s son. “He had even kept a piece of the aircraft spar that he gave to us” (2024). The piece of the Grasshopper remained in the senior Levaufre’s possession until his passing in 2019.

In 2019, Ryland Howard, the baby whom Alfred and Edith had been expecting prior to Alfred’s death, got in touch with Henri. Henri was able to share that he was aware of the incident and knew the location, but he passed away soon afterward. Mr. Howard then got in touch with Christian directly. In order to surprise Mr. Howard upon his arrival, Christian explained that he was planning a visit to Normandy to look for the location of his late father’s crash, and requested Mr. Levaufre’s help. Mr. Levaufre agreed, withholding that he knew exactly the location of the crash, and that he even had a piece of the plane itself.

Surprised Mr. Howard was, and he was thrilled to see not only the site of the crash, but the chateau where his father spent his last night, on July 3rd, 1944. Mr. Levaufre was also able to give Mr. Howard the piece of the spar from his father’s Grasshopper, having recovered it from the depths of the senior Mr. Levaufre’s collection, and felt that Mr. Howard “was happy to bring it back to San Antonio and show it to his children,” these being Cpt. Alfred Ryland Howard’s grandchildren (2024).

Keeping it a secret from their father, these grandchildren soon also contacted Mr. Levaufre with the idea of setting up a memorial to their grandfather and Windeler at the site of the crash. Mr. Levaufre recommended that a place in downtown Prétot would be preferable, with space for parking and more foot-traffic, and offered to begin the process for them.

A small monument dedicated by the children of Lt. Gene Williams, a paratrooper who was killed in an early attempt to liberate Prétot, was already standing in a nice location, so Mr. Levaufre reached out to the mayor of Prétot, Mr. Thierry Renaud, for permission to place a similar memorial for Howard and Windeler nearby. Thus the creation of the monument began.

In the process, it was decided to also remember the other men of the 90th who liberated Prétot the day before Howard and Windeler were killed– those of the 3rd Battalion of the 359th regiment.

The memorial takes the final form of a rectangular marble stele, which bears a bronze plaque honoring Howard and Windeler, an aluminum silhouette of a Piper L4 like the one they flew, the 90th Infantry Division insignia, and a carved message to the men of the 359th. The combination of memorials and materials on one stone brings together the legacy of men who likely never met, yet, who fought with the same heart and the same patch for the same cause.

The inscriptions are all written in French, but translate to the following. First, for Howard and Windeler: “On July 4, 1944, a Piper L4 observation plane responsible for adjusting the fire of an artillery Battalion of the 90th Infantry Division was shot down near here, killing both crew members./ Pilot: Alfred Ryland Howard- Houston Texas/ Observer: William Windeler- Oakland California/ Never forget them, for they died for your freedom.” (Levaufre, 2024). Then, for the men of the 359th: “In memory of the men of the 90th Infantry Division who fell for the liberation of Prétôt on July 3, 1944” (Levaufre, 2024).

The entire process was kept a secret from Mr. Howard by his children, in order to surprise him once more, and the dedication was originally planned for the end of May, 2021. However, Covid-19 restrictions prevented the Howard family from traveling to France. Thus, the monument was pre-dedicated in May of 2021, and a final, official dedication occurred a year later, on May 28th, 2022, with the Howard family in attendance. Ryland Howard was shocked and delighted by the proceedings.

No descendants of William Windeler could be found, and because of this, Mr. Levaufre “brought Ryland with me to celebrate Memorial Day at the US cemetery, and we went to lay a flower on Windeler’s grave” (2024). According to the local American Battle Monument Commission Archives, the pair were the first to ever visit his grave.

The dedication shown by Mr. Howard and Mr. Levaufre is a beautiful exemplification of the silver lining to these events. The collaboration between their families demonstrates how acts of remembrance can bridge generations and cultures, from something as simple as the gift of a forgotten airplane spar, to the erection of an eternal memorial.
The stele at Prétot stands not only as a monument to Howard, Windeler, and the other men of the 90th Infantry Division, but as a physical reminder that, through connection to and respect for the past, pain and loss can be transformed from something that seems senseless and painful, to something that can touch hundreds, if not thousands, of lives. Each visitor to the stele helps preserve the legacy of the fallen, and the legacy of those who stand to remember them. This memorial is a testament to the power of simple remembrance.

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The largest, and most controversial, Holocaust monument in the world takes the shape of more than one hundred thousand markers scattered through the streets of European countries from Spain to Ukraine, each commemorating the last known address of a victim of the Holocaust.

Most monuments consist of a single object, or multiple objects on the same property. In the case of stolpersteine, the world’s largest Holocaust memorial, the concept is exactly the opposite. Conceived in the early 1990’s by Gunter Demnig as an art project, stolpersteine, or ‘stumbling stones’, consist of small brass and concrete markers placed at the last known home or workplace of someone killed or persecuted by the Holocaust.

Stolpersteine were not originally intended to be the enormous project that they are today. In the early 1990s, Deming was working on a separate project: a memorialization of the path Romani citizens were forced to take to railroad cars in Cologne following the Auschwitz decree. In a way that online sources give no consistent account of– and which could not be confirmed with anyone at the Stolpersteine Foundation– that project sparked the idea for stolpersteine, and the first were installed at that site, in memory of the Romani sent to Auschwitz.

These original stolpersteine– in whatever form they took– were intended to be a one–off, conceptual project, but were warmly received by the relatives of those they honored, and members of the surrounding community. With that encouragement, the project spread like wildfire.

Each marker begins with the words ``hier wohnte” or the national language equivalent of “here lived”, followed by the person's name, and information such as their birth, deportation, and death dates. This information is verified through careful research done by members of the Stolpersteine Foundation. Any family members of the deceased are also contacted prior to the installation.

Gunter Demnig is passionate about maintaining an attitude of respect, honor, and empathy around the creation and installation of the individual markers. This is one reason for the use of one marker per person when possible– Demnig felt that this choice emphasized the value and individuality of each person which Nazi ideology and policy sought to destroy. Each marker is hand-made by Berlin sculptor Michael Friedrichs-Friedlaender, and most are personally installed by Demnig.

Unlike many other monuments to the victims of the Holocaust, stolpersteine are installed to honor people of every background: Jews, Roma, Poles, homosexuals, communists, the disabled, and anyone else who came to harm at the hand of Nazi prejudice. Nor are they specifically placed in honor of those who lost their lives to the Holocaust– any who suffered can be honored with the placement of stolpersteine. This diversity has led to criticism from some groups who feel it detracts from the suffering of the Jewish people.

Stolpersteine also depart from the traditional model for monuments in their decentralized placement and small size. At just ten centimeters square, sitting at sidewalk level, those who find them tend to ‘stumble’ upon them– either literally or figuratively– by surprise. This aspect tends to invite the most criticism for the project, because of the markers’ physical position underfoot, and the many layers of symbolism surrounding the terms used for them.

Some of this symbolism in language is intentional– Demnig wanted the viewers of the project to feel both that they were ‘stumbling onto’ a piece of history, and to feel a ‘stumbling’ in their hearts at the reminder of the people who once lived and worked on the very street where they now stand in the present day.

However, critics, such as members of the civil government of Munich, cite other connotations. During the Nazi regime, Jewish cemeteries were desecrated, with the tombstones carted away and used as pavers for sidewalks, the engraving still visible. Though stolpersteine are not meant to resemble anything like a tombstone, some nonetheless find the connotation distasteful (Demnig). In general, critics dislike the fact that the markers are stepped on, which gives an image of the Jewish people being once again underfoot.

Another commonly discussed concern has to do with an anti-Semitic saying popular during the Nazi regime: “A Jew must be buried here.” might be said when tripping over an uneven stone. Though the official stolpersteine website states that “Contrary to what certain online sources claim, Gunter Demnig did NOT want to create a link to a certain anti-Semitic expression apparently used in Nazi Germany that he did not even know”, this saying was used as support for arguments against the installation of stolpersteine in Munich in 2004 (City Council of the City Capital of Munich) (Demnig).

Munich is a specific outlier in the stolpersteine story that must be discussed, because of the ban on their installation within city limits: a decision their government came to following a meeting of their city council, during which many representatives of the Jewish community– and descendants of Holocaust victims– spoke out against the project. One member quoted Mrs. Charlotte Knobloch, a leader of the Jewish community in Munich, and a survivor of the Holocaust, who said, “The artist does not share our past, my past, the past I have experienced myself when human beings were trampled under foot, attacked with boots, hurt by boots. Shall it happen again that the names of the people, who have experienced endless pain before, be trampled upon again?” (City Council of the City Capital of Munich) (Heger).

The ban on stolpersteine notwithstanding, Munich proudly displays many memorials to the Holocaust. For the most part, their criticisms, and those of other opponents to the project, do not directly involve Mr. Demnig or his intentions in creating stolpersteine, but criticize the project itself in no uncertain terms because of how it is regarded by parts of the Jewish community.

Tamara Heger is a doctoral candidate in American Studies with an expertise in 20th century German and American history and the Flossenbürg concentration camp. Her perception of the reception of stolpersteine in German academic circles is markedly less dramatic than what one might find reported on the internet. “I have never met anyone who personally objected to the stolpersteine,” she said, when asked if she felt that the issue was as contentious as sources like the Munich city council minutes of March 3rd, 2016 might suggest (Heger).

“I know that there was a lot of controversy in the Jewish community in Munich, who felt that this form of commemoration was disrespectful. What we do see [more often] is that there are many people in Germany who object to Holocaust memory in general, because they feel like it perpetuates what they think of as “Schuldkult,” or a cult of guilt. These people would like for any form of public commemoration of the Holocaust to vanish” (Heger).

As to her personal opinion of stolpersteine, which she regularly runs across in Rosenberg, where she is employed, she said, “I understand that the concept may not feel entirely appropriate for everybody. However, I appreciate the project because it is a reminder that the space has a history, that individuals lived there who had plans and hopes and dreams for their lives that were violently cut short” (Heger).

Overall, she felt that, “These projects do a lot to show that the Holocaust is not something that just happened somewhere else, but that it is a part of our very own history, and happened right at our doorstep and among the people we may still know” (Heger). In a word, memory.

Despite the deep controversy surrounding stolpersteine, the Stolpersteine Foundation carries on its work of honoring those lost to the Holocaust. Demnig is no longer able to install as many stolpersteine as he once did, as he is now 76, but local groups continue to install new markers, and members of the Foundation individually research requests for new stolpersteine to be laid.

Last year, the stolpersteine Foundation celebrated three milestones. On May 26th, Demnig placed the 100,000th stolperstein in Nuremberg, Germany, in memory of Johann Wild, who was arrested and executed by guillotine for a “radio crime”. On October 1st, Demnig was awarded the Order of Merit of the German State of Berlin, to honor his work on the stolpersteine project and its benefit to the city. Finally, later in October, Demnig celebrated his 76th birthday– an event which led him to decide to spend less time traveling for the stolpersteine project, and more time at home, for the sake of his family and health.

No monument to an event as horrific as the Holocaust will ever be without its own measure of controversy. Despite its complicated past and present, the stolpersteine project accomplishes its one true goal with efficacy: those who come across the markers have no choice but to remember. As Ms. Heger said of her own experiences with stolpersteine she has encountered, “When the person was around my age, they linger in my thoughts for a while, and I wonder who they may have been beyond the information on the stone” (Heger).

There is something poetic in the idea of a person’s memory living on in the very place most important to them in life. Stolpersteine ensure that as long as the streets of Europe are traveled, the memory of those who walked before will not be lost.

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The story of Japanese-Americans who faced discrimination, internment, and
hardship on American soil during the war rarely surfaces within the recollections of
WWII."Harmony" is a poignant monument to the enduring efforts of the Japanese-American community in the Pacific Northwest to ensure their experiences are remembered and acknowledged.

American bigotry marked the Japanese-American story as they arrived on Western shores. Decades of institutionalized racism led to their forced four-year internment during World War II following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941. While World War II is celebrated in American history, it remains a painful memory for Japanese Americans. However, a resilient Japanese-American community fought to reclaim their lives in the postwar aftermath. Their lobbying efforts led to public apologies, compensation, and the creation of monuments to commemorate their suffering.

In the Pacific Northwest, the Japanese-American community took early steps in memorialization efforts. They organized the first Day of Remembrance celebration in the United States and, five years later, unveiled one of the first monuments dedicated to Japanese American internment victims. This Harmony sculpture monument stands on the former site of Washington State's only World War II internment camp. Created by local artist George Tsutakawa, whose personal story is intertwined with this American history chapter, Harmony encapsulates the Japanese-American experience through its approval, location, and continued visitation.

The Japanese-American experience in the United States began in the late 19th century due to the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, which increased Japanese immigration. These immigrants played a significant role in the West Coast's economy. Still, they faced discrimination and immigration quotas, culminating in the internment order of 1942. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, Executive Order 9066 authorized the internment of Japanese-Americans, affecting 75,000 citizens and 45,000 Japanese nationals. The entire West Coast became an exclusion zone, a territory stretching from the Canadian border in Washington down to the Mexican border in New Mexico. The construction of assembly centers began to gather Japanese populations. In the Pacific Northwest, the Puyallup Assembly Center operated for nearly four months, housing thousands of internees before receiving transfer to other camps. Even before the arrival of the first internees at the Puyallup Assembly Center, officials already referred to the site as Camp Harmony. While the Washingtonian internment camp saga would last for a relatively short four months, many local Japanese Americans would endure internment nightmares until March 1946, nearly six months after the unconditional surrender of Japan and four years after the enactment of Executive Order 9066.

George Tsutakawa, the creator of Harmony, was a second-generation Nisei whose life mirrored the community's struggles. During World War II, he served in the U.S. Army. He visited an internment camp in Northern California to visit friends and family. It was during one such visit that he met his future wife. This experience would later inspire him to create the monument.

After the war, Japanese-Americans faced prejudice upon returning home. It took years of continued political pressure and education to have their plight acknowledged by the various levels of government. While President Roosevelt unofficially rescinded Executive Order 9066 in late 1944, it was only in 1976 that it officially ended through a proclamation by President Ford. In 1988, President Ronald Reagan issued an apology and authorized compensation.

The Japanese-American Citizens League (JACL) played a significant role in advocating for rights and remembrance. In 2022, President Biden officially recognized February 19th as the Day of Remembrance of Japanese American Incarceration During World War II. The Japanese-American community's efforts to remember and educate led to including War Relocation Centers in the National Register of Historic Places in the 1970s. Seattle hosted the first Day of Remembrance celebration in 1978, and twenty-five years later, Washington State officially recognized the Day of Remembrance.

Harmony's journey to find a home was not straightforward. The Puyallup Valley JACL faced resistance from the State Fairgrounds board, which eventually allowed the monument's installation in 1983. Nearly thirty years later, in 2016, with funding from the Japanese-American Citizens League, a plaque was commissioned to add a description and context to the existing sculpture.

The Harmony sculpture is a modest yet powerful reminder of the Japanese-American experience during World War II. The State did not commission it as a public apology for past deeds. It was a privately funded Japanese-American venture created by a local Japanese-American artist directly influenced by these past events. In many ways, the slow acceptance of an on-site monument, the sparse private funding, the modest surroundings, and the limited exposure of the Harmony sculpture represent the continued struggle that the Japanese-American community encounters for a more substantial commemoration of World War II internment camps. This grassroots initiative reflects their constant desire for acknowledgment and a place in the public discourse regarding their past sufferings.

(edited by Jennifer Schaper)

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In Jackson, Michigan, a unique memorial stands as a testament to collective memory. The Michigan U.S.S. Arizona memorial, featuring steel artifacts from two pivotal moments in American history, offers a sacred space where loss is remembered, strength is celebrated, and memories remain for future generations.

Jackson, Michigan, marked the 80th anniversary of the Pearl Harbor attack by unveiling the Michigan U.S.S. Arizona Memorial at Sparks Foundation County Park on December 7, 2021. The heart of this memorial is a steel plate from the U.S.S. Arizona, a tangible link to the past. Adjacent to it stands a matching case housing a steel beam from World Trade Center Tower #2. This space also features a memorial to local homicide victims, all crafted by local firm ALRO Steel. These monuments create a sacred space bridging collective memories of loss and resilience across generations.

Three seemingly unrelated memorials at Sparks Foundation Park honor lives lost in different tragedies, uniting individual grief into collective solace. Just as Jay Winter emphasized the significance of memorials as places of mourning, the Michigan U.S.S. Arizona Memorial allows the community to mourn together. This communal remembrance, as Larry Ray notes, forges a connection between the living and the departed, fostering emotional bonds across time. "Such sites create a community of the living and the dead by inviting visitors to join with an imagined community, where the living and the dead are commemorated and experienced, and contemporary people are emotionally bonded to the dead."

Steel binds these memorials together. The rusting steel plate from the U.S.S. Arizona resembles the Tower #2 beam, blurring the lines between tragedies. In Jackson, known as "the crossroads," steel has deep roots. Its strategic location between Chicago and Detroit fueled its industrial rise with numerous steel-related businesses. However, economic downturns and increased violence hit the city hard. Larry Mentink's son's murder in 1989 led to the Victims of Violent Crimes Memorial, offering solace to grieving families.

The World Trade Center's steel beam, received by the city, found a home beside the Jackson Victims of Violent Crimes Memorial in 2017. Along the park's circuitous footpath, the combined site attracts visitors and runners, highlighting the recurring theme of "metal" as a weapon against innocence.

Stan Mazur, an 84-year-old Navy veteran, saw an opportunity to add an artifact from the U.S.S. Arizona, representing another tragic attack on America. The Jackson County Commission officially requested it, and despite delays due to the COVID-19 pandemic, the Michigan U.S.S. Arizona Memorial achieved completion for the 80th Pearl Harbor anniversary. A ceremony attended by diverse groups, including local veterans and blue-collar workers, honored Stanley Czarnecki, Jackson's sole U.S.S. Arizona casualty.

While this "sacred site of steel" remembers loss, it also embodies strength and resilience. Though the U.S.S. Arizona and the World Trade Center are gone, their steel endures, just as the American people have persevered through World War II, economic changes, and the Global War on Terrorism. Like these artifacts, their memories will persist.

(edited by Jennifer Schaper)

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The former Yugoslavia is filled with unique monuments to World War II called Spomeniks that have evolved in their meaning and underlying ideology depending on the political and social climate at the time.

The Allied victory at the end of World War II legitimized the newly formed Socialist Republic of Yugoslavia and the ruling Communist Party, led by Josip Tito. The Spomeniks (monuments) that were created during the Tito years were symbolic, abstract representations of fallen heroes and victims of fascism as described by Senadin Musabegovi, Professor of Philosophy at the University of Sarajevo, and Bojana Pejic, art historian. Following Tito's death in 1980, new nationalisms resulted in altering the interpretation of many of the Spomeniks in accordance with local nationalist sentiments.

The Spomeniks of the former Yugoslavia were created out of a need to remember lives lost and the struggle for victory over the fascist occupiers. Older monuments created by the Kingdom of Yugoslavia were deemed unnecessary and were destroyed out of a need to forget the former rulers while creating a new multi-national state that was unified under one Yugoslav banner. For Tito, this was essential so that the underlying national tensions could be pacified under his “Brotherhood and Unity” ideology. This unification was important because his vision depended on the myth of a single national liberation victory for all of Yugoslavia, not any single ethnicity, according to Veljko Radulovic, an Associate Professor of Architecture at the University of Montenegro.

The Yugoslav Communist Party celebrated the underlying myths of uprising and revolution. The National Liberation War was the uprising and seen as the victory over the invading fascists, while the revolution was the state being forged through the “brotherhood and unity” of the many ethnicities coming together to accomplish the victory as noted by Musabegovic and Pejic. With the creation of these new monuments arose a new collective Yugoslav memory and a new artform known as “socialist modernism”. During this time, Yugoslavia was unique in that it did not constrain its artists to state-mandated realist projects that emphasized a human figure, like the Soviet Union or other communist countries. Yugoslav artists began to interpret ideas and concepts in a more abstract form resulting in various art projects including the Spomeniks.

Two examples of Spomeniks that were created in the socialist modernist style are The Battle of Sutjeska Memorial Monument Complex at Tjentiste and the Monument to the Revolution in Kozara National Park. The Sutjeska Memorial was originally conceived in 1958. At the time it was simply a crypt for 3000 soldiers who fell during the 1943 Battle of Sutjeska which demonstrated that Tito’s partisans could withstand the German onslaught, resulting in the Allies beginning to directly support Tito. In 1971, the monument was completed by architect Miodrag Zivkovic and is one of the most important World War II monuments in Yugoslavia. It is often compared to the Greek “Winged Hero of Samothrace” due to of the shapes of the wings as well as Greece and Bosnia being seen by some as crossroads of ideas, politics, and religion according to the Spomenik Database. Unfortunately, during the Yugoslav Wars of the 1990s, there was an attempt to blow up the monument. Today, the monument enjoys a resurgent popularity not because of its former ideological presence, but because of its artistic form. It is used as a venue for music festivals and art shows. It has even inspired other artworks such as the Ninth Fort WWII monument in Kaunas, Lithuania.

Kozara National Park, near Prijedor, Bosnia, was originally created in 1958 as it was deemed by Tito to be of “historical significance” owing to the 1942 Battle of Kozara as noted on the park's website. According to the local Prijedor Danas newspaper, a Monument to the Revolution construction committee was formed in 1962 with 49 applicants submitting design ideas with the one from Dusan Dzamonja being selected. The memorial was completed in 1972, with an adjacent museum, also designed by Dzamonja, built one year later to house battle relics and artifacts. In a 2007 interview documented in the Spomenki Database, Dzamonja would say that “it was a common saying in Yugoslavia those who were going to Rome, those who were going to Mecca, and those going to Kozara (…) It is a very isolated place, you have to want it.”

The Monument to the Revolution at Kozara rises 33 m to its peak. It is rather difficult to get inside the monument, as Dzamonja wanted it to feel claustrophobic so that a visitor feels like the partisans who were surrounded by the Axis armies. He wanted people to feel that although there was little room for escape, there is always light which triumphs over the darkness. When one looks up, light shines in through a uniquely shaped circle. For locals, this symbolizes two ideas according to Gal Kirn, Faculty of Arts (Sociology of Culture) at the University of Ljubljana. The shape of the circle represents a Kolo dance, a local folk dance, which signifies solidarity and cohesiveness within living in a multinational community. The other is the suffocating feeling of the fascist armies closing in on the light.

The Kozara monument was largely spared during the Yugoslav wars due to its remote location. However, this did not keep the monument from becoming a piece of nationalist propaganda. The area was occupied by Serbian nationalists which resulted in a pro-victimized Serbian context to the museum displays with many other groups left out as their inclusion wouldn't fit the desired narrative as noted by Manuela Brenner, Faculty of Electrical Engineering and Information Technology at the University of Regensburg. This allowed the meaning of the monument to be deconstructed and then reconstructed to fit the needs of the occupiers, who pushed Serbian ethnicity rather than overall loss of life. After the war, the narrative was changed to not solely emphasize Serb losses. However, because Kozara and the city of Prijedor are in the Republika Srpska, an area dominated by Bosnian Serbs, some nationalist rhetoric remains according to Brenner. Like the monument at Sutjeska, Kozara enjoyed a rebirth of memory in the 2000’s as it has become home to commemorative ceremonies in remembrance to the battles fought here in the second World War.

Gal Kirn, Faculty of Arts (Sociology of Culture) at the University of Ljubljana, has stated that the post-WWII Yugoslavia monuments were the memorialization of a resistance movement based on a transnational ideal amongst the varying ethnicities that had been united under Tito’s banner. By bringing the ethnicities together, it attempted to omit the varying degrees of tension and hostility that each group might have against one another. The feeling of monuments amongst those same ethnicities today is a representation of the failure of a nation to eliminate these underlying tensions and stay together. Kirn believes that the monuments represent the past, as well as the defeat of Yugoslavia, with their original meanings often misunderstood. It is interesting to note that interpretation of the monuments continues to change even if the artists themselves specifically highlighted what it was supposed to mean.

Understanding the overall dynamic of Yugoslav monuments depends on the social and political climate in which they are portrayed. During their construction they were billed as abstract representations of the state ideology of “Brotherhood and Unity.” They came to represent a present and a future multinational state that attempted to omit or silence the tense inter-ethnic conflicts of the individual regions. Brenner states that once Yugoslavia dissolved, the monuments that had served the socialist republic needed to be deconstructed and reimagined in a way that fit the narratives of each new state. This was especially so for the Monument to the Revolution where the monument was made to fit the Serb narrative by placing a cross nearby, directed against the Muslim population. It is anticipated that as long as these monuments stand, they will continue to have meanings that are interpreted in ways that fit the current social and political climate.

(Edited by Brad Poss)

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The Pennsylvania Railroad World War II Memorial, and its placement in the 30th Street Railroad Station in Philadelphia is unique, it memorializes men who lost their lives in the defense of freedom while working in an essential industry using the representation of an angel, giving a spiritual sense to the ordinary men who made extraordinary sacrifices.

Penny Balkin Bach, the Executive Director & Chief Curator of the Association for Public Art, stated that, “We erect monuments so that we shall always remember, and memorials so that we shall never forget…monuments commemorate the memorable and embody the myth of beginnings, memorials ritualize remembrances and mark the reality of ends.” The Pennsylvania Railroad World War II Memorial does mark the reality of ends, the end of lives sacrificed in service of country so that we shall never forget.

The memorial is in Philadelphia at the Thirtieth Street Station, Penn Central Transportation Company. The placement of this monument makes it appear to be a part of the supporting structure of the 30th Street Station that houses it, just like the men for whom it was erected supported their nation at war. The station itself was built between 1927 to 1933. The architecture of the station in which it is displayed is significant because it reflects how the stage was set when America and its workers were called on to go to war. During the 1920’s a general sense of well-being pervaded the country. The First World War was over, the economy was strong, and that sense of confidence was evident in the architecture of the decade.

Once the Great Depression hit, ornate architecture was viewed as too expensive of an indulgence except for two types of building; movie theaters (where the public went to escape the harsh realities of life) and government buildings (their use of decorative nuances suggested a return to the “good old days”) according to Nicholas Wainwright the former Director of the Historical Society of Philadelphia. The 30th Street Station was built with its classic styles borrowed from the architecture of the 1920’s and the federal style of the 1930’s as noted by Wainwright. The station, with a transitional neoclassical, art deco style, was one of the last major railway passenger stations constructed in the United States as documented by Joh Hepp, Associate Professor of History and co-chair of the Division of Global History and Languages at Wilkes University. The unique architectural style of the station, combining old and new ties in directly with the monument: the past and the present, the living and the dead, the secular and the spiritual.

Railroads, especially in the 1940’s were an essential part of the infrastructure of the United States. When Franklin Roosevelt gave his “Arsenal of Democracy” speech in December of 1940, the Pennsylvania Railroad was bouncing back from the Great Depression; passengers were down because of the advent of the automobile, but the freight business was booming according to Carl Landeck and Roger Thorne, historians for the Pacific Railroad and the Tredyffrin Easttown Historical Society respectively. The Pennsylvania Railroad was in prime condition to do the job it had to do when war came, move troops and supplies and 1941 to 1945 were the zenith of railroads contribution to the war effort.

The Pennsylvania Railroad used steel P70 Heavyweight passenger cars to move both troops and passengers during the war, with the Pennsylvania Railroad delegating a large amount of their cars to troop transport. Troop movements were always kept secret, being identified only with a Military Authorization Identification Number, and even the men charged with the operation of the train were told only their portion of the end point for the military personnel or cargo. According to Landeck and Thorpe, one of the soldiers on the train noted they were packed in the cars “like sardines in a can” in an effort to get as many men as possible to the front as soon as possible.

According to a 1945 report from the Pennsylvania Railroad Company; " From January 1, 1941 to December 1, 1945-17,507,647 soldiers, sailors, marines and coastguardsmen were moved over The Pennsylvania Railroad System. This does not include any military personnel traveling on furloughs, which ran into many millions. To handle strictly military movements required 29,670 extra trains, composed of approximately 400,000 cars." The importance of the railroads to the war effort cannot be overstated. Without this support of the railroads in moving troops and supplies, the war effort would have been severely hampered. In addition, 45,194 Pennsylvania Railroad employees served in the military during World War II according to Landeck and Thomas. Of that number, 1,307 gave their lives for their country as noted by Wainwright.

The Pennsylvania Railroad World War II Memorial was designed by Walker Hancock, who at the time of its construction was head of the Sculpture Department at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts as reported by Wainwright. During the war, Hancock served as one of the Monuments Men who were tasked with the preservation of fine arts and archives while experiencing the trauma of war firsthand. As a result, Hancock labored to assure that the depiction of the angel and soldier would not be melodramatic; instead it was designed to show the interdependence of the two figures according to Bach. The monument itself was constructed of bronze, with a height of 39
feet on a black granite base. The railroad memorial was unveiled August 10, 1952 to an audience including General Omar Bradley (who was then Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff), railroad officials, and Hancock. The honor of unveiling the memorial went to Robert E. Laws, a railroad employee, and Congressional Medal of Honor recipient for heroism in Luzon, Philippines as documented by Wainwright.

Following World War II, monuments began to emphasize reflection reconciliation and healing as opposed to the glory of war as noted by Bach. The war’s aftermath called for a memorial that was inspiring and solemn with the railroad officials who commissioned the work wanting an angel lifting the body of a soldier. This monument depicts the Archangel Michael with the representation of a young soldier in his arms, lifting him upwards from the flames of war as described by Wainwright. In Christian dogma, the Archangel Michael is called upon to save us from the snares of evil, in this case war, represented by the flames of war at the angel’s feet. The angel’s wings are pointed straight up as he lifts the lifeless body of the soldier. The vertical shape of the memorial suggests the ascending into heaven of the angel and the soldier, an affirmation once again that World War II was the “good war”, fought to ensure liberty and democracy and defeat tyranny all over the world. The black granite base, on which the angel stands, is inscribed with the names of each of the 1,307 railroad workers who died in World War II, and below the names are depictions of an ammunition belt and helmet, symbolic of implements of war left on the battlefield, no longer needed by the young soldier, and symbolically no longer needed by a nation now at peace. The choice of materials, bronze for the statue that suggests an almost glowing divinity, and the black base a solemnity and homage to the dead. The massive size of the sculpture suggests the size of the conflict it represents, a war that literally involved almost the entire world.

As noted by Bach, “As symbols of collective memory, monuments and memorials often have very different meanings to those who erect them and those who inherit them.” The relevance of the sculpture today is different from what was intended by those who conceived and constructed it, as it blends into the backdrop of the station, no longer a focal point, but its quiet elegance and strength is not unlike the men for whom it was erected: powerful, awe inspiring and linking the secular and the divine. Although a passersby might scarcely acknowledge the memorial exists and our collective memory of World War II gradually fades from consciousness, it does not mean it is any less important to our history and their legacy of democracy.

(Edited by Brad Poss)

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After a bizarre twenty-four-year-long journey, one of the first monuments designed in remembrance of World War Two was finally put in its rightful place to commemorate the Tough ‘Ombres of the 90th Division.

Even before being demobilized and discharged, the men of the 90th Infantry Division knew they had to do something to honor their fallen brothers. That 'something' became one of the first World War II monuments ever built. Though the twenty-four-year-long pause between its conception and delivery to Utah Beach was a deviation from the original plan, the delay brought together those passionate about the 90th on both sides of the Atlantic and allowed for future collaboration and honoring of their veterans.

After VE Day (Victory in Europe), officers of the 90th Division stationed in Weiden, Germany, decided a monument was necessary to memorialize men of the 90th who died or suffered fighting for the liberation of Europe. These officers collected funds among themselves and from others within the Division stationed nearby to pay for the creation of such a monument. Collectively, they agreed the monument should come from German stone, with German labour. The 'German stone' was granite – specifically, from the quarries at Flossenbürg, which the 90th Division had liberated, along with the nearby concentration camp in April, 1945. The 'German labour' was commissioned from Erick Bock, who was a prisoner of war at the time, and so the work was taken up by his wife and son.

The finished stele was engraved on both granite faces with the words, "To the/ memory/ of the/ heroic dead/ of the/ 90th Infantry Division/ US Army/ 6 June 1944 - 9 May 1945." Decorations would come later, but during this early stage of the monument's life, all that existed was a rather bland chunk of Flossenbürg granite. The Bocks delivered the finished piece to the remaining members of the 90th at Weiden. However, due to poor communication and organization amongst those who had initially commissioned it and the fact that most of them were sent back to the US before the completion of the stele, there was no real plan for transporting it from Weiden to Utah Beach. The last 90th soldiers in Weiden did not know what to do with it and left Europe without seeing the undertaking finalized. Through some undocumented turn of events, the stele ended up abandoned in an area behind the Normandy American Cemetery.

In 1962, Colonel Eames Yates, a 90th veteran, located the monument and, incensed, wrote letters to the 90th Infantry Division Association, the American Battle Monument Commission (ABMC), and the Pentagon in an attempt to rally enough interest to have the monument moved. Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful.

The stele remained in the same location, essentially forgotten, until Henri Levaufre, a French 90th Division historian, received a letter in 1968 from the Executive Secretary of the 90th Infantry Division Association, Denby Steel. In short, Steel, on behalf of the 90th veterans in the Association, asked Levaufre to research a possible monument to the 90th lying hidden somewhere in the Normandy American Cemetery, a request to which Levaufre was eager to oblige. After a few reconnaissance trips to the Cemetery, with assistance from his children, he located the monument, nearly obscured behind a rise in the land and overgrown by twenty years of vegetation. He wrote to Steel, in his own words, "something like 'Mission accomplished" (Levaufre, n.d.).

However, this mission was only the first. The problems of transporting the monument thirty-plus miles from the Normandy American Cemetery to Utah Beach, erecting it, then dedicating it remained. Eventually, after much back-and-forth between the 90th Infantry Division Association, the ABMC, Michel de Vallavieille, then mayor of Utah Beach, and Henri Levaufre, an arrangement arose - to have the 90th monument moved in conjunction with a monument for the 4th Infantry Division. In May 1969, the monument was finally placed on Utah Beach. A month later, on June 6th, 1969, two 90th veterans visited the beach: Malcolm Latta and Frank Fultz. Both men were a part of the 357th regiment and were close friends during the war. They had not seen each other since July 4th, 1944, when Fultz was injured and taken away from the regiment. They reunited on Utah Beach and were the first men to lay a wreath at the foot of the 90th monument. Two years later, in July 1971, a 90th Infantry Division Association group came to Periers for an official unveiling and dedication.

Though the monument was in place, dedicated as initially planned to the losses of the 90th, concerns arose regarding its appearance– a simple carved granite stele sitting on the beach. Henri Levaufre recalled General Richard Stilwell, a 90th veteran, saying of the monument, "It's really sad to see such a poor stone to represent all of our lost men and sacrifices." (Levaufre, n.d.)

Thus began a series of improvements in the 1980s, which involved planting a lawn and bushes, the carving being under-painted in red, and the bronze plaque listing the regular and attached units of the 90th during the war being attached to the bottom of the remodeled base. The entire stele and base also moved to a raised platform paved with small granite stones, with large granite stairs leading up to it. Upon completion, the monument was unveiled again on June 7, 1987. The work and vision of the 90th officers in Weiden forty-one years earlier were at last a reality.

In July 1945, simultaneously yet inadvertently with the monument's planning, General George S. Patton, commander of the Third Army, said of the 90th, "Sometimes I think you don't know how good you are. You are the best soldiers in the world. It was a great honor to command you." (90th Infantry Division Association, n.d.) In the present-day US, the 90th Infantry Division is now as forgotten as any other Army Division of World War Two fame – outside of history books and museums, few would even recognize the name. However, the residents of Flossenbürg, Périers, and all other areas the 90th Infantry Division liberated or resided during the world would agree with Patton's sentiment.

These residents hold near and dear to their hearts their gratitude for the 90th's heroism in the face of horror and the individual men who died and suffered for their freedom. If a 90th veteran, or anyone connected with the 90th, appears in one of these villages, wearing their "Tough 'Ombres" insignia, residents are eager to shake their hand and shower them with gratitude and respect. New monuments to the 90th Division continue to appear throughout France: symbols of gratitude, respect, remembrance, and hope.

The monument to the 90th Division on Utah Beach remains hallowed ground for not only liberated residents of France but the remaining 90th veterans, their families, and friends making the pilgrimage to Utah Beach. Its existence provides comfort and validation to those reared in a post-war world resulting from the contributions and sacrifices of their ancestors. The red under-painting on the monument, which stands out starkly from the earthy tones of granite, grass, and sand, calls to mind the bloodshed on that ground nearly eighty years ago, forever equating to the price required for freedom.

(Edited by Laura Bailey)

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When contemplating the meaning behind a monument or memorial, it is crucial to understand the actions and lives of the honored individuals and how they shape our perspective on history and the future.

The Gulfport World War II Memorial in Mississippi resides next to the Gulfport Museum of History within the old Union Three Train Depot on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. The pavilion features the names of those from Harrison County, Mississippi, who were killed in action during the Second World War. The memorial was erected in honor of Private First Class (PFC) James Hirah Diamond, who was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor for “extreme gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty” during the Battle of Mindanao on May 14th, 1945. PFC Diamond's service record includes numerous other awards, including the Purple Heart, the World War II Victory Medal, an Army Presidential Union Citation, Combat Infantryman and Marksmanship Badges, a Good Conduct Medal, and the Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal. PFC Diamond’s contributions were honored during a Memorial Day celebration in 2012 when Gulfport mayor, George Schloegel, declared May 28th as "James H. Diamond Day." Although born in New Orleans, PFC Diamond grew up in Gulfport and is buried there; thus, he is claimed by Gulfport as one of their own.

When contemplating memorials to historical events, such as the Second World War, one must consider why monuments are erected in the first place. Keith Lowe, in his book, Prisoners of History: What Monuments to World War II Tell Us of Our History and Ourselves, examines monuments and what they say about history and its hold on the community. Lowe notes that most monuments dedicated to the Second World War have been left alone, unlike those of the American Civil War. Lowe writes, "These are the only ones that seem to have bucked the current trend of iconoclasm. In other words, these monuments continue to say something about who we are in a way that so many of our monuments no longer do." Thus, many WWII memorials and monuments are still memorialized accurately, or at least that culture's version of accuracy, according to James Young, the Distinguished Professor Emeritus and Founding Director of the Institute for Holocaust, Genocide, and Memory Studies at the University of Massachusetts-Amherst. This may be because many WWII memorials and monuments were erected in memorials of specific historical events instead of figures who might later be met with disapproving scrutiny for other actions. Instead of seeing political figureheads, monuments represent more than just our history. Lowe further explains, "Beneath all the granite and bronze is a mix of everything that makes us who we are – power, glory, bravery, fear, oppression, greatness, hope, love, and loss.”

The Gulfport, MS memorial fits the theme mentioned above, representing all the qualities that go into the sacrifice of those who gave their lives for freedom. The pavilion, dedicated on June 14th, 2002, has a simple yet elegant design that gives off a home-like feel and fits right in with the rest of historic downtown Gulfport, Mississippi. The landscape surrounding it was redone in 2011 and enhances the beauty of the memorial. A plain stone marker, lying at the base of a flagpole, clearly gives the reason for the Gulfport World War II Memorial: “To honor – to solidify their sacrifice: Harrison County residents killed in action during World War II. The memorial is hidden within the historic downtown and unknown to most individuals. Though the Gulfport World War II Memorial has been on Waymarking.com since 2016, the only information available is the location and a brief description of the dedication plaque.

For the author, the thought of having a hidden memorial to the Second World War gives off a feeling of being one with history. Finding the monument helped this author immerse herself in the historical incident behind the memorial. This is one of the best parts about monuments and memorials to eras gone by: the representation of prior events helps us to understand our past while also helping to further our future. Monuments and memorials, such as the Gulfport WWII Memorial, make it easier to relate to those of our past and immerse us in the history of both our communities and our world. This unpretentious but moving monument dedicated to the Harrison County populace killed in action during the Second World War gives off a feeling of remembrance for their sacrifice and pride for being part of this community and its history. This feeling will likely last longer than the monument, as it is designed to withstand the test of time.

(Edited by Brad Poss and Laura Bailey)

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The Zekelman Holocaust Center, the largest Holocaust Museum in Michigan, is not only a place of remembrance but also serves as a research center serving both the 100,000 Jewish residents of Michigan and the public.

The Zekelman Holocaust Center opened in 1984 as part of the Jewish Community Center in West Bloomfield, Michigan. Twenty years later, the museum relocated to its current 55,000-square-foot standalone facility seven miles away. When visiting the museum, one can find many of the same exhibits in other Holocaust museums. You will find the history of the European Jews, the rise of Nazism and life in the concentration camps. Margorie Carignan authored a research paper during her graduate studies at the State University of New York, Buffalo State College, comparing US Holocaust Museums and the differences to Holocaust Museums found in Europe. In her analysis, she found that European museums generally tended to be places of mourning, while American museums were more focused on teaching and educating the public about the Holocaust. While the center has some similarities to other American Holocaust museums, it has unique characteristics and exhibits that make it different.

Upon arriving at the site, a visitor notices the forbidding building that has won architectural awards, as noted in the Holocaust Memorial Center Newsletter. It was designed by the architectural firm of Neumann / Smith & Associates and built by the Granger Construction Company.

Approaching the museum, one gets the sense that they are about to enter a concentration camp or prison. In World War II, reddish brick and blocks were the most commonly used materials for the construction of the concentration camps. This concept was also used in the construction of The Zekelman Holocaust Center. They took it a step further and overlaid the brick with diagonal wire and cable, giving the appearance of an electrified fence. The top of the elevator tower was designed to recall the images of the chimney stacks of the crematoriums. The entrance suggests a camp guard tower, complete with slit rifle openings. You can even find stripes on sections of the exterior walls, reminding the viewer of the stripes on the prisoners’ clothing. Even the exterior trees are purposely designed to be wiry and small, a sad suggestion to the starving inmates inside the walls.

However, for the nearly 50,000 people who drive by the museum every day, not everyone enjoys having what appears to be a prison in a heavily populated metropolitan area. For some, the museum’s architecture brings forth painful memories. As designers intended to send a message before the visitor ever steps inside, the museum’s outward appearance is not without its critics. Rene Lichtman, a local resident and Holocaust survivor, states that driving by every day brings up the terrible memories of her past, as recounted to Nathan Guttman, a journalist for the Israeli newspaper, Hareetz. Mr. Lichtman states, “It’s painful, it’s like having a concentration camp in your backyard.” Goldie Kalib was twelve years old when she arrived at Auschwitz. Her brother and father died in a cattle car during their transport. A few weeks after the camp's liberation, her mother also passed. Ms. Kalib says the museum brings back many painful memories. Still, she approves of the design, telling Jeffrey Zaslow, a journalist with The Wall Street Journal, that “camps were not a pretty experience – I don’t think the building should be pretty.” Guttman notes that Sidney Blokaski, who was once in charge of Holocaust documentation at the University of Michigan, felt that in the design, “they thought of every cliché.” Zaslow noted that another Holocaust survivor pointed out that no museum could ever capture the real-life nightmare Jews experienced. Zaslow further notes that when the museum’s founding Rabbi, Charles Rosenzveig, was asked about the criticism, he replied, "We wanted to express the hideousness and architecture is a language.”

Another special exhibit at the museum is the authentic boxcar used to transport Jews to the camps. The museum acquired the boxcar working with the German National Railroad and the Technical Museum in Berlin through a generous donation, as described in The Oakland Press. Upon first entering the museum, you’re immediately struck by the appearance of the large boxcar that’s approximately fifteen feet tall and sits right beyond the entrance door. Its sign reads “Werkstattwagen” with the original boxcar serial number still visible. It’s hard for the viewer to comprehend how one hundred occupants could survive a journey that could take weeks in a small compartment with no water or toilets. Adding to the authenticity of the exhibit, the center’s website notes that the boxcar is encircled by a historically accurate copy of the Hannoverscher Bahnhof train station in Hamburg, Germany. This background adds to the viewer’s experience as the boxcar seems to be parked at the station in 1940, waiting to be loaded. Further enhancing the visitor's experience, the boxcar sits on railroad tracks that run through the exhibit and under a glass wall leading outside the museum. This added dimension gives another layer of realism, as many concentration camps had railroad tracks running right up to the front gate to transport Jews and other prisoners.

Another unique exhibit is a living artifact that grows outside the museum and is viewable through a glass wall. Anne Donato, a teacher education specialist at The Zekelman Holocaust Center, notes that Anne Frank writes the following in her diary, “From my favorite spot on the floor, I look up at the blue sky and the bare chestnut tree, on whose branches little raindrops shine, appearing like silver.” Pamela Engel, a journalist with The Times of Israel, details the story of when the 150-year-old tree located in Amsterdam started to die, it was ordered to be cut down. However, a judge ordered a temporary injunction prohibiting its removal. Later, botanists were able to save eleven saplings from the tree. In 2009, The Zekelman Holocaust Museum was awarded one of the saplings. Recipients of the saplings were chosen by the Anne Frank Center in Amsterdam in the Netherlands, based on “commitment to equality, demonstration of the consequences of intolerance or historical significance to civil rights and social justice,” according to a news release from the center. The tree is a powerful historical connection to Anne and her famous diary, as the viewer seems to be sitting with Anne, looking at the same tree.

The museum proudly displays other exhibits that are not only intended to tell the story of the Holocaust but what Jewish life looked like before the war. It features an exhibit about antisemitism and the rise of the Nazis. Similar to other Holocaust museums, it thoroughly covers the concentration camp network and what it was like living in the camps. Directly across from the boxcar, you find an internal flame that burns 24 hours a day and represents all the victims of the Holocaust. Behind it, engraved on a granite wall evoking the feeling of a gravestone, is a list of countries and the number of Jews that were murdered from each. The museum also features a video center that tells the story of the liberation of the camps.

James Young, the Distinguished Professor Emeritus and Founding Director of the Institute for Holocaust, Genocide, and Memory Studies at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, writes that Holocaust museums in the United States of America are becoming centers for historical education, activism, and fundraising. He observes that instead of studying Jewish history, many are learning about the history of Jews through studying the Holocaust. And while Jewish schools and community centers often run cost deficits, millions of dollars are invested in Holocaust projects and museums. More people now visit Holocaust museums and memorials in Germany, Austria, Holland, France, Poland, Israel, and America than the number of people that died during the Holocaust itself. Young also points out that American Jews have increasingly turned to studying the Holocaust because it has become their “vicariously shared memory.” Carignan found, as part of her analysis of US Holocaust centers, that most European museums and memorials were built with public funds while most US centers are privately funded. This is true with The Zekelman Holocaust Center, as it’s been fortunate enough to have a supportive public that has provided the resources needed to build a stunning museum, allowing more freedom in the design and theme of the museum. However, even being financially independent doesn’t shelter them from controversy and criticism. One critic pointed out to Zaslow when commenting on the building’s exterior, “can you imagine if someone built an African American Museum that looked like a lynching tree.”

(Edited by Brad Poss and Laura Bailey)

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After a long and honored history including service in both World Wars, the story of the USS Nevada and its subsequent memorial in Pearl Harbor are largely forgotten. Although it was present and sunk in Pearl Harbor when the Japanese military attacked the base on December 7, 1941, it is far less remembered than other World War II ships like the USS Arizona or the USS Missouri.

There is no question that the U.S.S. Arizona Memorial remains the signature site for visitors to Pearl Harbor each year. For many, it is the most tangible reminder of when Japanese planes attacked the Hawaiian naval base and surrounding airfields to open the United States’ formal participation in World War II. The U.S.S. Arizona Memorial has become a well-known landmark with its sweeping white superstructure and the engraved names of the 1177 men who died aboard the ship that day. The ship's remains rest on the shallow floor of the Pearl Harbor Naval Base, next to the quay where the ship was tied up that morning. Stretching in front of and behind the U.S.S. Arizona are additional quays where other battleships were tied up on what was known as Battleship Row.

Although it is the best known, the U.S.S Arizona was not the only ship to be attacked. Of the eight battleships that were present in Pearl Harbor on the morning of December 7, six of them would be sunk during the attack. Visitors today can visualize where each of the battleships was located on the morning of the attack by looking at the quays rising above the water, painted a brilliant white with each ship’s name prominently displayed, signifying its location on the morning of December 7th, 1941.

Memorials commemorating some of the lost ships and men were built at different times. The U.S.S. Arizona Memorial was the first constructed after a significant portion of the memorial’s cost was raised by a campaign boosted by the TV show This Is Your Life and, more famously, a benefit concert featuring Elvis Presley in March 1961. Another significant boost came from the Revell model company, which donated proceeds from sales of plastic models of the sunken ship. The U.S. Naval Institute News documents the details of these fund-raising efforts. In 1972, the second memorial was dedicated to the U.S.S. Utah as described on the USS UTAH BB-31/AG-16: The Forgotten Ship of Pearl Harbor's website. The U.S.S. Utah’s crumbling remains a short distance from the U.S.S. Arizona, separated by a white quay bearing the name of the last battleship anchored in Battleship Row that day, the USS Nevada.

A memorial for the U.S.S. Nevada, the third ship memorialized at Pearl Harbor, didn’t appear until 1981, and of the three, it gets very little visitor attention. Commercial tour operators used to bring tourists through the Pearl Harbor Naval Base, where the memorial was pointed out to tourists. However, post-9/11 security restrictions ended this access. Today, it is not accessible by any of the commercially available tours. Situated near the former chief doctors’ quarters at Hospital Point, visitors need a military or Park Service escort to take them there if they wish to visit and honor the USS Nevada and the men who served aboard her. The Memorial’s location over a mile away from the U.S.S. Arizona memorial, its remoteness, and the security requirements all add to a minimal number of visitors annually. U.S.S. Nevada veteran Richard Ramsey wistfully noted, “It’s not exactly a tourist attraction. It’s pretty far from Honolulu.” The website on the monuments and memorials in Pearl Harbor doesn’t even list it since the Navy owns and maintains it. The isolation of the memorial thus contributes to a sense that the ship's history has been forgotten despite its fantastic record, a story that deserves to be remembered and preserved.

The U.S.S. Nevada’s career began with active service during World War I, but her first significant combat action came during the attack at Pearl Harbor. She is primarily remembered in Pearl Harbor lore for one of the few things that raised the morale of those present that morning. Over the weekend of December 5, 1941, she was moored immediately behind the Arizona. Much of the ship’s crew had gone ashore for the weekend, leaving a partial crew behind to man their watches. With no indications that anything was amiss, the U.S.S. Nevada’s band began playing “The Star-Spangled Banner” as the flag was raised at the battlewagon’s stern at 8:00 AM. At that moment, the first Japanese planes appeared and began attacking their targets. The ship’s band continued through the end of the song. Only then did the sailors run to their battle stations and prepare to return fire against the Japanese planes, as described by Wayne Scarpaci: a Naval artist, historian, and author.

The U.S.S. Nevada and her men were determined to fight back against the attackers. Her official history shows she downed a Japanese plane two minutes later. At 8:10 AM, Nevada was struck by an aerial torpedo, followed 14 minutes later by the first of many bombs that would hit her that day. Not wanting to be a stationary target and to get away from the furiously burning Arizona ahead of her, the officer of the deck ordered the ship to get underway as quickly as possible. This crucial effort allowed Nevada to cast off her mooring lines while swinging wide of Arizona and moving into the channel to head to sea by 8:40 AM. The U.S.S. Nevada was the only battleship to do so that day, as noted by Christopher Havern: a Historian at Naval History and Heritage Command.

As dazed and shocked sailors on ships and land cheered the sight of the Nevada’s sprint, Japanese pilots saw the ship moving and tried to sink her to block the channel. Already on fire, the Nevada was hit by at least six bombs and began to sink as she moved forward. Realizing she could potentially block any ships going in or out of Pearl Harbor, Nevada’s crew intentionally ran her aground. Later that afternoon, she was moved further out of the way and finally settled onto the bottom of Pearl Harbor just off Hospital Point, with most of her upper structure standing proudly out of the water. Fifty men lost their lives on the ship that day, and two of her crew members were awarded Medals of Honor for their actions, one posthumously as described by Havern.

On February 12th, 1942, the Navy carefully completed refloating the battleship, hoping to return it to service after repairing the substantial damage and modernizing it. The ship's holes were patched, and she was sailed carefully back to Puget Sound, Washington, where repair work was done over the course of several months. Her first wartime assignment took her to the Aleutian Islands in April 1943 to regain control of the only American territory occupied by Axis troops. It was the first time the Nevada’s main guns were used in combat. By May, Japanese troops withdrew.

The U.S.S. Nevada subsequently transferred to the U.S. Atlantic Fleet for convoy duty, and in late May 1944, the ship was alerted to prepare for the D-Day landings in France. The ship fired the first shots from the huge supporting armada to begin bombarding German positions in Normandy. She continued providing fire support until her ammunition ran low, forcing a return to England to reload. The U.S.S. Nevada later supported Operation Dragoon, the landing of troops in Southern France before returning to the U.S. Pacific Fleet to provide fire support at Iwo Jima and later at Okinawa. While operating off Okinawa, the ship was hit by a Japanese dive bomber that killed 11 men. The battleship then brought home former prisoners of war from captivity in what was known as Operation Magic Carpet per Havern.

Like thousands of ships, Navy leaders had to figure out what to do with the U.S.S. Nevada and other surplus ships after the war ended. Given the ship's age and the peacetime drawdown of the Navy, it was decided that tests of the new atomic bomb were needed, and one of the things leaders wanted to know was how well ships would survive this new form of warfare. The U.S.S. Nevada was hit with two nuclear blasts in 1946 but did not sink. Unsure what to do with the radioactive ship, it finally met its end in 1947 following several days of being fired upon by ships of the Pacific fleet for target practice. The scarred battleship that had survived two world wars, including being sunk and refloated later at Pearl Harbor only to be later hit in a kamikaze attack, would not be allowed to be memorialized and preserved like other ships. Instead, she slipped beneath the waves, living only in the memories of those who loved her. There would be no tourists climbing all over the ship as they do on the U.S.S. Missouri, reading about the Nevada’s exploits and learning about its involvement in some of the most titanic events of the 20th century.

The U.S.S. Nevada Memorial came into being thanks to World War II veteran Paul Hughey, who arrived in Pearl Harbor aboard the carrier U.S.S. Lexington immediately following the attack. In a 1983 interview in The Columbia Record, he recalled visiting the base in the late 1970s, when "I took the boat tour up the Pearl Harbor channel and looking at the shoreline, I couldn't place in my mind exactly where the Nevada had been, and I thought that wasn't right... It was a terrific story courage and bravery and seamanship, and I thought it should be recognized. "

The design and construction of the Memorial was very different and smaller than that of the Arizona’s and the Utah’s Memorials. No one offered to host a big-name concert or sell ship models to pay for the memorial’s construction. If the ship were memorialized, it would be left to veterans and their friends to raise the needed funds. A plaque on the Memorial credits the USS Nevada Association and the Pacific Central Navy League with providing the money for its construction. Designers decided to place the U.S.S. Nevada Memorial on a piece of land near Hospital Point, where she ran aground during the attack. The location allows the fortunate visitor to look out and to the right toward the naval base, mentally recreating the courageous journey of the battleship on December 7th. An American flag flies proudly from the tall, white flagpole rising behind the center of the concrete plinth that is the heart of the memorial. A large brass plaque centered on the front side remembers Nevada’s two Medal of Honor and 15 Navy Cross recipients from December 7th and solemnly displays the name of each of the 50 men killed in action.

Dan Martinez, a longtime National Park Service historian assigned to Pearl Harbor, recalls that the members of the Nevada Association intended for the Memorial to be a “purposeful” one, primarily to display the large brass plaque. As such, little effort was made to add symbolic touches. The dedication on December 7th, 1983, was attended by many U.S.S. Nevada veterans, who took the opportunity to have their annual reunion in Honolulu for the occasion. The Memorial has evolved with additional signage and plaques to provide additional information for tourists to understand the ship's history better.

Over time, the memorial has been the site of naval re-enlistments for base personnel and the location for various ceremonies such as significant anniversaries of the attack. The 80th anniversary in 2021 might be the last event that a U.S.S. Nevada veteran could attend in person. The attendee was Richard Ramsey, then 98 years old. The loquacious nonagenarian recalled the Memorial “is a place I can go to, and it’s a place that says Nevada; it just brings back memories.”

As the last veterans who witnessed Pearl Harbor or served aboard the U.S.S. Nevada fade away, the U.S.S. Nevada Memorial ensures that her memory and the actions of the men aboard that historic day will not be entirely forgotten. While far less accessible and grand than the U.S.S. Arizona’s famous memorial, the U.S.S. Nevada Memorial continues to evolve, educate, and inspire its visitors about a storied ship that served in two World Wars only to finally sink under the waves in the early stages of the atomic age.

(Edited by Brad Poss and Laura Bailey)

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