Like many Jews in America, my grandfather survived concentration camps in Nazi Poland and Germany to arrive here in hopes of making a new life during the 1940’s. It wasn’t a hospitable time (to put it mildly) and as part of his journey towards citizenship, my grandfather joined the merchant marine. The rules for citizenship were supposed to be straightforward — serve 3 years in the US armed forces or 5 years in the merchant marines and you would be eligible for citizenship.
Give us your service and get citizenship in return. Except that a little more than two years into the merchant marines, the army decided to take him and send him to Europe to help the war effort as an interpreter. He spoke several languages and they thought he could be put to better use.
Except when his five years was up… Continue reading