Bronx Boy Goes to War

The author, a veteran of World War II, is now 101 years old. As the population of living veterans of this war dwindles through aging, it becomes important to have a first-person account of life in the Army during that period.

In the case of Bronx Boy Goes to War, the account is as personal and anecdotal as it is about the war. Lee Evers is a born storyteller, so his account of his life in the Army - as well as, briefly, the times before and after - read more like a narrative, complete with humor as well as some poignancy.

Lee Evers (born Abraham Ebersman) was born into a protective Jewish New York City family in 1923. His mother died when he was only a year old, and from that time he was raised by not only his father but also his grandmother, grandfather, and aunt, who all lived in the same apartment building.

"As a result of my mother's death," Evers relates, "I was raised in a rather unusual way: my closest relatives simply poured their love all over me. I was idolized. In our poor neighborhood everyone knew each other, as if it were a small village in Czechoslovakia or Poland. The moms and dads of all my friends showered me with care and warmth, simply because I was "that little boy who lost his mother."

Being drafted at age 19 inaugurated a radical break from his comfortable environment in the Bronx. Suddenly he was thrown in with people and challenges he never could have foreseen. But an optimist at heart, he writes:

My three years in the US Army were just full of luck. So much luck that many years later, my wife Lillian said that my mother had to be watching over me. At nineteen years old, I was provided by the war with experiences I could never have imagined.

Sixty-one (short) chapters' worth of experiences are chronicled in this memoir. Some took place on the Army base in the US, like being tested to see what job he was suited for. He scored high on the intelligence test, but really low - abysmally low - on the mechanical tests.

"Just so you know," [the Sergeant in charge] told me, "we've had about 800,000 guys take this mechanical test, and you have the lowest scores of anyone."

But Lee characteristically made the best of this: "As I ran to catch up with my group, I thought to myself, 'All right, I'm a city man and I'm not good with mechanical stuff. No big deal.'"

And in fact, later on he was able to impress the officers with his mechanical know-how. What they didn't know was that he had memorized all the moves.

Shipped out to the Pacific, his ability to go with the flow served him well - in interpersonal relations, at work in the service, and in other situations. Nevertheless, the subtitle - "I Almost Died Nine Times" - speaks to the danger of war, and the unpredictability. The formerly well-cushioned Bronx boy had to think on his feet - and even then, he was closer than desired to gunfire, a plane running out of fuel, burning shrapnel, enemy soldiers, dying from malaria, a near plane-crash, a tropical storm, and having his head literally knocked off. So being a soldier was serious business.

Still, Evers' reminiscences underscore the human factor. He made friends, lost some through death (in the Army and afterwards), and reconnected with some when back home once more. There was something about this salesman-to-be that won most people over - as illustrated by the unusual fact that three different soldiers offered to set him up in their own home towns with jobs and maybe even a wife.

He turned them all down - a Bronx boy at heart - but always appreciated being taken into their hearts. He may have almost died nine times, but in his stories he makes the whole experience come to life.