Issue Date: July 1, 2007

Documenting the war

As the nation's most patriotic holiday approaches, we asked Contributing Editor Ken Burns to preview his upcoming World War II special and tell readers about this summer's big oral history project.

By Ken Burns

Ken Burns' "The War" will air on PBS stations starting on Sept. 23. (Check your local newspaper or TV guide listings for times and channels.)

This week, as Americans celebrate the birth of a nation with backyard barbecues and parades, we're all reminded of how important our past is to who we are today.

We remember our past in different ways. Recently, I visited Washington for this story and toured great touchstones of World War II. I was reminded of how museums and monuments help us to honor and understand what and who came before us. I saw an amazing display of a vintage Corsair fighter plane with its odd bent wing -- dubbed "Whistling Death" for its distinctive, ominous sound made while diving. As you see on this page, I visited the National Portrait Gallery, where I saw pictures of two men who will forever be associated with the war: Dwight Eisenhower and Franklin D. Roosevelt. At the World War II Memorial, I was struck by the power of permanence that granite imbues in the ephemeral events of our past.

But parades and portraits are only part of our remembrance. For the past several years, I've been making a documentary about World War II. I've been saddened by how little the YouTube generation knows about the war, the defining event of the 20th century. I wanted to counteract the fact that history has become, to some young people, merely a castor oil of dates and places.

For me, history is the synthesis of countless stories. There is no greater resource than to tap into the memories of those who were there, to unearth the stories. We rely on the strength of memory to depict America's past.

At the same time, we need to be mindful of the potential weaknesses of memory. Memory can be flawed. It can be incomplete. It can lend itself to exaggeration and hyperbole. It can be entirely incorrect. So that's why we always say, "Trust, but verify." For my documentary, we used available military records, for example, to authenticate memories of battles and resulting injuries.

An authentic memory is a treasure, a powerful instrument capable of stirring emotions at unpredictable times, about events long suppressed by those recalling them. Suddenly, it's as if the memory, a permanent part of one's biological hard drive, is happening in the present tense. Accessed after so many decades of being ignored, the emotional impact is all the greater.

For "The War," we interviewed more than 500 people. Veterans spoke of leaving home for the first time and arriving on the front line of battle. Of facing and somehow beating death. Many broke down in the middle of our conversation. They would tell their stories, and it was clearly for the first time -- a catharsis they had denied themselves. Today's wounded warriors returning from Iraq and Afghanistan often are eager to discuss the circumstances of their injuries as part of the healing process. But those who returned from World War II aren't part of the "talking is healing" generation. They rolled up their sleeves, did what they had to do, then returned to their lives.

On more than one occasion during filming, a veteran's wife remarked to her spouse, "You never, ever told me anything happened like that." It's a chapter of history that participants often are unwilling to share. They went over to serve when they were about 18 or 19. They saw friends die, and they caused others to die. Not that we are judging them at all; this is simply the reality of war.

Now theirs is a dying generation. There are an estimated 2.9 million living World War II veterans, and about 1,000 pass away every day. We are losing our access to them to discover what happened just over 60 years ago.

That's where the YouTube generation comes in. For the series, we used 40 of the hundreds of interviews we conducted. Now, Americans are being enlisted in the recording of history. Thanks to a cooperative effort involving PBS and the Library of Congress' Veterans History Project, anyone can get a camera and conduct his or her own interviews of a loved one who lived through the war. All submissions will be cataloged by the library to become part of the permanent Veterans History Project collection. This is a great opportunity: When I made my Civil War documentary, participants were obviously long dead. But World War II remains very much alive in the memories of millions of Americans.

These stories are the building blocks, the DNA of our collective American experience. From these memories, we shape that thing we call history -- no longer dry dates and places, but a living organism that relates to us on a profoundly personal level.

If young people could interview a grandparent or senior neighbor, they'd learn what this generation did during the war -- how, in shared sacrifice, they made their country richer and safer than anyone could ever imagine. Through enthusiasm and curiosity, a new generation may be able to produce something remarkable. The Veterans History Project makes it easy for anyone to record an interview, no expensive camera equipment needed. We could amass the most extensive oral history collection in the world about the greatest cataclysm in human history. A new generation may discover that without knowing where we've been, we can't possibly know who we are.

Cover photo of a Marine in Okinawa, Japan, by Corbis; Ken Burns photo by Cameron Davidson for USA WEEKEND
Grooming by Jacquie Hannan, T.H.E. Artist Agency