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Author Gretchen Knapp brings to life the challenges and contributions of daily life in World War II Buffalo.

When President Roosevelt visited Buffalo in November 1940, he found a hardworking city with a large immigrant population manufacturing aircraft for the Allies. Nearby Fort Niagara inducted over 100,000 young men, resulting in an acute labor shortage. American Brass, Bell Aircraft, Chevrolet, Curtiss-Wright, Houde Engineering and Republic Steel reluctantly, then gladly, hired women. More than 300,000 defense workers toiled in hot factories for high wages despite transportation, housing and food shortages. The aircraft plants alone employed 85,000 on forty-eight-hour workweeks. Buffalonians watched the flag raising at Iwo Jima, participated in the Manhattan Project and observed the formal surrender of Japan in Tokyo Bay. Author Gretchen Knapp brings to life the challenges and contributions of daily life during wartime.

During World War II, more than six thousand prisoners of war resided at Camp Perry near Port Clinton and its branch camps at Columbus, Rossford, Cambridge, Celina, Bowling Green, Defiance, Marion, Parma and Wilmington. From the start, the camps were a study in contradictions. The Italian prisoners who arrived first charmed locals with their affable, easygoing natures, while their German successors often put on a serious, intractable front. Some local residents fondly recall working alongside the prisoners and reuniting with them later in life. Others held the prisoners in disdain, feeling that they were coddled while natives struggled with day-to-day needs. Drawing on first-person accounts from soldiers, former POWs and residents, as well as archival research, Dr. Jim Van Keuren delves into the neglected history of Ohio's POW camps.

Established as one of many frontier Army posts in 1849 following the Mexican-American War, Fort Bliss, Texas, has endured as an Army installation when most other frontier posts have faded from memory. From a small collection of adobe buildings, it has seen growth, decline, two closures, and ultimately survival as the major Army maneuver post that it is today. The post, named for West Point math prodigy and soldier William Wallace Smith Bliss, has served many roles in America's conflicts and has seen the march of technology in war fighting. Its role today includes training for the Army's only armored division, known as 1st Armored Division; training for major Army air and missile defense forces; serving as a mobilization platform for Army soldiers and civilians to deploy to support America's missions overseas; and testing of major equipment to be adopted for military use.

From January to July 1942, more than seventy-five ships sank to North Carolina's "Graveyard of the Atlantic" off the coast of the Outer Banks. A Standard oil tanker sank just sixty miles from Cape Hatteras.

German U-boats sank ships in some of the most harrowing sea fighting close to America's shore. Germany's Operation Drumbeat, led by Admiral Karl Donitz, brought fear to the local communities. The U-85 was the first U-boat sunk by American surface forces, and local divers later discovered a rare Enigma machine aboard. Author Jim Bunch traces the destructive history of world war on the shores of the Outer Banks.

With the attack on Pearl Harbor by the Empire of Japan on December 7, 1941, and the United States' entry into World War II, our nation turned to Connecticut--as it did during World War I--for munitions, clothing, and other goods. And Connecticut answered the call: Manchester Mills increased silk production, Waterbury brass producers altered their manufacturing lines, and Bridgeport's Remington Arms--which had produced 50 percent of the US Army's small arms cartridges in World War I--increased its mass production capabilities. By the time Electric Boat, Hamilton Propellers, Pratt & Whitney, and many other Connecticut companies tallied up their production back in 1945, it amounted to over $8 billion in war contracts.

More than 14,000 people of Japanese descent—two-thirds of them US citizens—were exiled from August 1942 to November 1945 to the Heart Mountain Incarceration Site on the high desert prairie of Wyoming’s Big Horn Basin.

The site was the temporary home for Japanese Americans forced from their homes in California, Oregon, and Washington. Believed to be saboteurs or spies or both, the prisoners were viewed with fear, hatred, and sometimes acceptance by their neighbors in nearby Cody and Powell. During their time at Heart Mountain, the incarcerated people lived like the residents of any American city. Under the eye of the federal War Relocation Authority, they taught school, worked at the fire and police departments, ran stores and barbershops, and spent much of their time wondering what had happened to their former lives. Today, the site is part of the Heart Mountain Interpretive Center and Mineta-Simpson Institute.

Ray Locker is the director of communications and strategy for the Heart Mountain Wyoming Foundation. The foundation’s staff consists of experts on Japanese American history, the intersections between Wyoming’s Indigenous community and World War II’s incarcerated people, and museum professionals dedicated to telling the story of this sad chapter of American history. They used donations from those incarcerated and their families, collections in the foundation archives, the National Archives, the Library of Congress, and museums from around the country.

At the start of WWII, two government defense housing projects were built in East Alton, Illinois. These projects became known as the "defense area," where author Phillip Walkington lived from birth through high school. Although intimately familiar with his surroundings, he never perceived their unique place in history as the unintended results of a plan to offset issues created by World War II. In I Grew Up in War Housing, a never-before-documented piece of history comes to light. War workers came to these defense areas in a steady stream seeking employment, and though jobs were to be had, there was nowhere for the influx of workers to call home. Multiple tiers of government worked together to build the defense housing projects under the Lanham Act, which provided federal funds to defense-impacted communities where the population had soared and local facilities were overwhelmed. Written to praise the war workers who in-migrated throughout America to support the war effort--and for his father, who was one of those workers--Walkington's I Grew Up in War Housing is a firsthand account of an exceptional place created during an unparalleled time in history.

From the first settlers in 1735, Orangeburg has evolved through the years into a beautiful and vibrant city. This volume features former small-town life when there were still livery stables, bicycle shops, and emerging car dealers. One can almost hear the clanking of the bottles being filled on the conveyor line at the Orangeburg Coca-Cola Bottling Company or see the stalwart firemen protecting buildings and homes, not to mention repairing and refurbishing used toys for indigent children at Christmastime. The town's fame extended into the political sphere as well--President Kennedy personally informed the publisher of the local newspaper that his most successful Navy assignment in World War II was when he was sent to Orangeburg. From the county fair to the Hawthorne School of Aeronautics, where over 5,000 pilots were trained in World War II, it is all here in this glorious collection of old Orangeburg photographs.

Spurred into action by the attack on Pearl Harbor, Sacramento dragged itself out of the morass of the Great Depression and joined the war effort. Local citizens trained for Japanese attacks through Civilian Defense, cultivated thousands of acres of victory gardens and harnessed the agricultural riches of the region. Tens of thousands engaged in war work at local bases like the new McClellan Field, while Sacramento's diverse servicemen distinguished themselves in combat overseas. They would later return and transform the city into the modern Sacramento of today. Exclusive images and stories from the Special Collections of the Sacramento Public Library bring this story to life.

As the nation entered World War II, the city of Charleston struggled with a stagnant economy that had never recovered from the Civil War. The glory days of the antebellum period were decades in the past, yet Charlestonians drew their pride from a bygone era, rather than from hope for the future.

This compelling look at Charleston's twentieth-century history chronicles the changes and challenges faced by Charleston as its population exploded in response to expansion of the Charleston Navy Yard. As World War II called for the United States to flex her industrial might, the shipyard rose to meet the challenge and 55,000 new residents flooded into the city.

Charleston was unprepared for such dramatic expansion: the need for labor at the yard meant the sudden appearance of good jobs, but also resulted in severe housing shortages, food rationing and dilemmas over race and gender. Ongoing workforce shortages forced the navy to look to sources of labor previously regarded as unsuitable--African Americans and women--causing dramatic changes to the status quo.

Author and historian Fritz Hamer makes use of written documents and oral histories to argue that the war's effects pulled a reluctant "Holy City" into the twentieth century, setting the stage for further modernization and growth. Warm personal accounts from a range of individuals who witnessed the city's dramatic change provide a human element in Hamer's solid research.

Well written and imaginatively conceived, Charleston Reborn will interest the general reader as well as a wide range of historians--from students of World War II and chroniclers of gender and racial history, to urban historians and scholars of the modern American South.

During World War II, thousands of volunteer combat aviators trained at places like Cal Poly in San Luis Obispo and Hancock Field in Santa Maria. Some air cadets and WASPs--young women pilots--lost their lives in training accidents. The graduates would go on to fight in both the Pacific and European theaters. They faced flak bursts and collisions that resulted in horrifying explosions and were sent on strafing runs that made them targets in a lethal shooting gallery. Downed airmen encountered both unexpected kindness and cruel deprivation as prisoners of war. Through interviews and official records, Jim Gregory tells the stories of heroic Central Coast veterans who fought a war that stretched from New Guinea to North Africa.