Page 1 of The Women of Oak Ridge
Prologue
THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON, DC
DECEMBER 9, 1941
President Franklin D. Roosevelt sat behind his desk next to a fireplace in the White House, with the United States flag behind him, spectacles perched on his nose, and paper in hand—a calm presence in a room swarming with aides and people rushing around. A half dozen microphones faced him, and a photographic camera stood ready to make record of this, his first fireside chat since the attack on Pearl Harbor.
Someone signaled for silence.
A hush fell over the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said, “the President of the United States.”
President Roosevelt’s face took on a serious expression as he addressed the nation.
“My fellow Americans,” he began, his measured voice familiar to the millions listening. “The sudden criminal attacks perpetrated by the Japanese in the Pacific provide the climax of a decade of international immorality.
“Powerful and resourceful gangsters have banded together to make war upon the whole human race. Their challenge has now been flung at the United States of America. The Japanese have treacherously violated the long-standing peace between us. Many American soldiers and sailors have been killed by enemy action. American ships have been sunk; American airplanes have been destroyed.
“The Congress and the people of the United States have accepted that challenge. Together with other free peoples, we are now fighting to maintain our right to live among our world neighbors in freedom and in common decency, without fear of assault.”
He spoke about past relations between the United States and Japan, including meetings that took place mere days before the attack. He reminded listeners that the US had done everything possible to maintain peace. Now, we found ourselves at war. Every man, woman, and child, he said, was a partner in the most tremendous undertaking of our American history.
“I am sure that the people in every part of the Nation are prepared in their individual living to win this war. I am sure that they will cheerfully help to pay a large part of its financial cost while it goes on. I am sure they will cheerfully give up those material things that they are asked to give up.
“And I am sure that they will retain all those great spiritual things without which we cannot win through.”
His final words were firm and indisputable.
“We are now in the midst of a war, not for conquest, not for vengeance, but for a world in which this Nation, and all that this Nation represents, will be safe for our children. We expect to eliminate the danger from Japan, but it would serve us ill if we accomplished that and found that the rest of the world was dominated by Hitler and Mussolini.
“So we are going to win the war and we are going to win the peace that follows.
“And in the difficult hours of this day—through dark days that may be yet to come—we will know that the vast majority of the members of the human race are on our side. Many of them are fighting with us. All of them are praying for us. For in representing our cause, we represent theirs as well. Our hope and their hope for liberty under God.”
The president fell silent, yet his inspiring words would resonate with Americans in every corner of the country. In big cities and small farming communities. With families gathered around the radio in their living rooms, and soldiers huddled in barracks on military bases, preparing for war.
Deep in the mountains of eastern Kentucky, shivering in the chill of the two-room, coal-company-owned shanty she shared with her parents and younger brother, eighteen-year-old Maebelle Willett heard President Roosevelt’s rallying call. To sacrifice and do her part to help win the war. To fulfill her duty as an American citizen. To play a role, no matter how small and insignificant, in defeating our enemies.
After the national anthem ended, she clicked off the radio and stared out the window. Cold rain drenched the earth, making life more miserable than usual. Pa, weakened from black lung, coughed from the next room. Her mother’s treasured clock chimed from the shelf above the stove, a reminder she needed to get supper started. Mama would be tired after a long day of scrubbing laundry for other folks, and Harris was always half starved, as were most eight-year-old boys.
Yet Maebelle didn’t move.
In that quiet moment, envisioning the world far beyond their secluded holler in the highlands of Appalachia, she came to a decision.
She would answer the president’s call. She didn’t know what she could do or how she would do it, but somehow, someway, shewouldmake a difference in the outcome of the war.
The president and the country needed her.
