my favorite veteran

After my father died, I learned that he changed his identity in the late 1930s, at least partially because his name "sounded too Jewish."

He rarely spoke about the war or the time before. My dad was extremely private, and I never dared ask. I wouldn’t have known what to ask, anyway. The few times he mentioned something, I became still, almost holding my breath.

Once he said his ship was hit by a torpedo, and I think he broke his arm. Twice he told me about being on a train in Germany in 1935; an SS officer entered the compartment, and everyone jumped up — he said that you didn’t even think of not saluting.

I couldn’t imagine my strong Norwegian father not daring to be himself. Now that I know his name sounded Jewish, it’s more chilling.

Ninety years later, Jewish people are being targeted. Not “again.” Still.