Secret and Dangerous Lives in World War II Memoirs

I read memoirs because my life is so insulated

Memoirs can offer a window into different worlds and experiences, making them a powerful way to connect with lives and perspectives outside of my own. It's a great way to break out of an insulated environment and explore the complexities of other people's journeys.

Insulation makes me myopic and judgmental. Deeply immersed in my world, it’s easy to lose perspective and form narrow views. Reading memoirs, exploring diverse stories, and engaging with different experiences has greatly helped in challenging these tendencies and broadened my understanding.

Secret Fears Leads to the Current Staple Reading

My reading a memoir is further enriched by reading other books set in the same similar historical period. Lately, I read a biography entitled "Agent Josephine" while still finishing the memoir "When Time Stopped." Meanwhile, I am halfway through a newly acquired e-book, the historical novel by Claire Messaud, "This Strange Eventful History."

Reading a memoir, a novel, and a biography together has given me a multidimensional understanding of the time period that was World War II.  A blending of fictional narrative and factual history has enriched my appreciation of not just the 'big' heroes of WW2, but of the million other lives who suffered and sacrificed their lives in that unfortunate global disaster. These include spies, friends of holocaust survivors, mothers intent on the survival of their children, fathers on the battlefields missing their spouses, and underground rebels who refused to capitulate but exerted all creative faculties to source help for others to survive.

While the "big" heroes of World War II are often celebrated, countless individuals represented in these books truly represent the profound impact of the war. Everyday people who endured immense suffering, loss, and sacrifice are often overshadowed, yet their experiences are no less significant. As I read the memoir, the novel, and the biography, stories of often "less important" figures are brought to light, giving me a nuanced and broader understanding of the war's true human cost.

Some Figures from the Books I’ve been Reading

Hans Neuman and Josephine Baker were survivors who kept hoping for the correct world in the light of the global trauma that was World War II. Both adamantly clung to life, and persisted in survival to let the future know about this gruesome past. The world has to learn from the ravages of war after all, although future history has repeatedly missed the lessons.

Hans Neumann, as depicted in "When Time Stopped," managed to survive the horrors of the Holocaust and went on to rebuild his life, never losing hope for a world that could be more just and compassionate. It was as if time stopped during the war, when he had to assume another name and identity for the sake of survival. He triumphed in ‘tricking’ the fate of the ‘jews’ and got to live a new life in a new state. He refused to let that past haunt him by making that time of his life stop, both literally and metaphorically. The memoir takes on the theme of the unwinding of time pieces, which was Hans Neuman’s hobby.

Josephine Baker, often remembered for her glamorous life as an entertainer, was a courageous spy and resistance fighter. During World War II, her efforts in giving the Allies information about plans of the Axis expressed her desire for a better world. Despite her personal traumas, her actions and collaborations with other secret agents reflected a deep sense of hope and determination.

In the novel “This Strange, Eventful History”, Claire Messaud’s characters are as much a product of their time as of their family histories. Individual stories reminded me that even in their most clueless of times and seasons, people can find their ways to resistance, survival, and belief for better life, better coping, better indignance.

These characters in the novel, memoir, and biography will always remind me that nobody will ever be prepared for war, and yet, everybody has a nucleus of loved ones to always stand by and protect. Everybody will eventually find a worthy cause to not just survive, but also believe in survival. This is always for somebody other than themselves.

I’m hoping for no wars or rumors of war although this maybe an empty hope. Even the Bible says that wars are inevitable. But hopefully the younger generation will see inspiration and hope in the heroic tales of those who survived to tell their tales and lived to publish their stories for posterity. Stories of resilience, courage, and humanity—like those of Hans Neumann and Josephine Baker serve as powerful reminders of what individuals can achieve, even in the worst of times. 

Recommended novels, memoirs, biographies set in World War 2  

While watching the news about the China-Philippine wrangling in the contested territorial waters, I can’t help but think about World War II. Those decades weren’t too far from today. In these Asian shores, the same fires of conflict from ancient times simmer and are threatening to explode. 

My prayer is that the younger generation will know how to respond to any outbreak of war, but more than violence, I am hoping for an understanding that war is both mercy and judgment. In the light of the impending chaos, home, family, friends, and other loved ones will take priority over the more material concerns. And in all the commotion, one needs to have the basic and most necessary faith in the true God, either for life or for death.

Here’s a list of historical books, memoirs, novels, and biographies set in World War II that focus on less-known individuals. [This list does not yet include books about the war years in the Philippines, written by Filipinos. Here is that list.]

Memoirs:

1. "The Zookeeper's Wife" by Diane Ackerman - The true story of Antonina Żabińska, who, along with her husband, saved hundreds of Jews by hiding them in their Warsaw Zoo during the Holocaust.
2. "Hidden Figures: The Untold Story of the African American Women Who Helped Win the Space Race" by Margot Lee Shetterly - Though not strictly about WWII, this memoir highlights the lesser-known contributions of African American women during the war era.
3. "We Band of Angels" by Elizabeth Norman - The story of the U.S. Army and Navy nurses who were captured by the Japanese in the Philippines during World War II and survived three years of imprisonment.

Novels:

1. "All the Light We Cannot See" by Anthony Doerr - Follows the story of a blind French girl and a German boy whose paths collide during the war, highlighting the lesser-known struggles of civilians.
2. "The Night Watch" by Sarah Waters - Set in post-WWII London, it weaves together the lives of four people whose experiences during the war shaped their futures.
3. "The Women in the Castle" by Jessica Shattuck - Focuses on three German women and their survival after their husbands' failed plot to assassinate Hitler.
4. "The Book Thief" by Markus Zusak - A novel narrated by Death, centered around a young girl in Nazi Germany who steals books and shares them with others during the war.

Biographies:

1. "Code Name: Lise" by Larry Loftis - The biography of Odette Sansom, a British spy who operated in Nazi-occupied France and survived imprisonment in Ravensbrück concentration camp.
2. "A Woman of No Importance" by Sonia Purnell - The incredible story of Virginia Hall, an American spy who became one of the most successful Allied operatives in Nazi-occupied France.
3. "Resistance: A French Woman’s Journal of the War" by Agnes Humbert - A gripping first-hand account of a French woman’s involvement in the resistance and her capture by the Nazis.

Historical Non-Fiction:

1. "The Girls Who Went Away" by Ann Fessler - While not entirely set during WWII, this non-fiction book looks at the stories of women who gave up their children for adoption in the post-war era, offering a different perspective on the social aftermath of the war.
2. "The Bielski Brothers" by Peter Duffy - The true story of three brothers who saved over 1,200 Jews by building a secret village in the forests of Belarus during the Holocaust.
3. "The Spy Who Loved" by Clare Mulley - The story of Krystyna Skarbek, a Polish-born British special agent who became one of Churchill’s most daring spies.

From the sentence descriptions, I can deduce that most memoirs in this list are stories of figures who prioritized desires that served the greater cause of winning against barbaric war acts and decimations. As with the rest of the historical novels, even the intentional entertainment value zeroes in on the valued relationships prominent in the narrative [women who gave up their children, three brothers saving 1,200 Jews].

Among the list above, I have read only “All the Light We Cannot See,” and “The Book Thief”. I am happy to report that I truly enjoyed both and was much enlightened especially with the details of existence in the midst of fires and bombings, how people still kept a semblance of normal life, as they tried to meet the basic and most crucial needs of their loved ones.  [I have also seen the film adaptations of both books. I recommend reading the books first before you watch the films if you haven't done both yet.]

As books pass on these stories in the paged legacy of memoirs, biographies, and novels, here’s to the chance that future generations will read and remember the sacrifices, and become motivated to work toward a more peaceful world.

On to the Other Side

Gypsy: You grew up without a father figure, how does this affect your perception of Father God?
Dear Gypsy - I needed to go back before I could answer this question. I will answer the rest in the next blogs. Thanks for asking.


Beginning 1992 and up to the earlier months of 1994, I lived in my small house in Cavite, alone. Phase 14 wasn't yet as crowded as the rest of Pag-Asa subdivision. Behind me was a huge rice field and during weekends, it brought my eyes ample relief. For the first three months, my mother helped me to get my bearings, but later on after that, my only noisy companion was a radio.

I remember coming home after three long rides (Boni to Imus) to a bright white house with a bed, a table, a stove, my ironing board and the radio -- all giving me the quiet collective sigh of a near-haunted house. But I often conquered the gloom by turning the radio on to DZAS and listening to Chuck Swindoll's happy sermons. He made his congregation laugh and I laughed with them during those nights. I could remember coming home very tired from the highly congested coastal road traffic but I kept myself busy. Right after changing clothes, I would be immediately occupied with either scrubbing the tiles, waxing the floor, washing my clothes, cooking for a three-day meal -- while listening to the radio -- before I rested, which was after I've exhausted all the night preaching.

In our house, since my mother was also a father , she taught us to depend only on ourselves. So it wasn't difficult for me to be on my own. In fact, before I lived in Imus, I had lived in 8 different rented spaces.

My mother had always prided herself on living just on her own, solving her own problems, making ends meet by sheer guts and will. As a nay-tay she probably had a hard time disciplining us. As our punishment for various naughty acts, the ultimate sanction had always been to "do five or more Our Fathers, Five or more Hail Marys etc." depending on the gravity of our offenses. All three of us, first siblings would end up sniffing in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary mumbling our "prayers" lest we get the rod. By rod, I mean "bakya, or tabo, or walis tambo, or a heavy rag -- in fact whatever her hands would find close by. Each of my sibling had his and her own vivid scenario of this "light" torture. Of course we're laughing at those times now, but we all can't forget one time when my brother, only five years old, pleaded our case and said, "Nay bingi na naman po ang Diyos."

Now, I think that mothers should be the disciplinarian in the family. I simply took it for granted that a father should play a role in that. Had my father given me even just a whack, I would have, at least, a memory of one intense interaction. But my Father was only a word within the word family. If you ask me to define father, he would be the one who caused you to be born.

God the Father used to be just a phrase in my prayers: "In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy spirit...." I grew up not minding God the Father. He could be anyone who was remote, up there, beyond the clouds, farther than the moon and the stars. I thought that if Jesus was the one nailed to the cross, and he is God the Son, then He couldn't be God the Father. But I never worried myself about God the Father. I simply just rattled off the Trinity "label" at the beginning and end of my "prayers" because that's how everybody did it.

Unlike Mary who, at least was a kind of shock absorber whenever we were forced to pray looking at her statue, God the Father didn't even have a name! He was "Our Father" probably in the most public sense. Much much later on of course, I would learn about His attributes and His Names. But back then, completely ignorant and indifferent, I went to church knowing nothing about the God we often invoked in our chants. It was like we knew we had a father, but so?

Needless to say a father was a non- issue to me. A father to me may not exist; I was sanay na walang tatay.

It took a long time before God healed me from this apathy. I realized that indeed, I missed having a father. The Word of God showed me that I had a real, accessible, knowable Father in heaven. Amy Grant had a popular song in the 80s which goes:

I may not be every mothers dream for her little girl,
And my face may not grace the mind of everyone in the world.
But thats all right, as long as I can have one wish I pray:
When people look inside my life, I want to hear them say,

Shes got her fathers eyes,
Her fathers eyes;
Eyes that find the good in things,
When good is not around;
Eyes that find the source of help,
When help just cant be found;
Eyes full of compassion,
Seeing every pain;
Knowing what youre going through
And feeling it the same.
Just like my fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
My fathers eyes,
Just like my fathers eyes.

If I should have my Father's eyes, I should know How I am My Father's Child. One by one, as I searched the Word of God, the revelations came, but not all at once.

During my isolation in Cavite, as I went through an emotional crisis, I dreamt about crossing a river but I couldn't do that. Somebody offered to carry me over to the other side.

I had to allow him to carry me over to the other side. I had to depend on him. I had to submit to his gentle persuasion. I had to leave all my baggage behind and allow only myself to be hoisted up on his shoulders. I had to stop worrying about the future. I had to be brave and resolve not to go back. I had to let him see myself cry. I had to let him help me. I had to open my ears to what he's saying, "I'm here. I'm your father. Trust me."

Before that time, I had long decided that I would follow God. But the dream was clearly telling me to loosen my grip about everything, letting God carry on from there.

In the morning this was the verse I read from my Bible: "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, Nor will the flame burn you. (NASB ©1995) Isaiah 43:2

That was my Father in heaven speaking directly to me, telling me gently, "Come!"

Finally, I prayed, "Yes, please, carry me over." Up to now, I know that it was one of the most important decisions of my life.