I recently watched a movie that I vaguely remember seeing when I was seven years old. The film in question is Sink The Bismarck, a 1960 British release about the early WW2 battles between the Royal Navy and the newest and most powerful German battleship, the Bismarck. The movie became a surprise hit here in the USA, and my father, being a former US Navy guy, wanted to see it. I was at the ripe age of 7, and a big fan of war adventure TV shows and movies (there were plenty of them back then). Thus I looked forward to watching the evil Bismarck get what it deserved from the Limey’s on the high seas.
Back in those days, war was depicted as a grueling but ultimately satisfying endeavor. Yes, some of the good guys would take a few bullets, but they ultimately gave the bad guys (the Nazis, the Japs, the Commies, even space aliens) their due. And when they did, it was always a thrilling moment, such as when an enemy plane went down in flames or when their tanks were smashed or ships were torpedoed and blown up. War seemed like fun, so long as you could put up with occasional (and possibly painful) set-backs. But even when one of your own guys got hit by a bullet, it wasn’t terribly gruesome. The unlucky guy was usually off to the medical tent in quick fashion to be patched up.
We suburban children of the 60’s had no idea that this was a totally bogus picture of war. We obviously weren’t ready » continue reading …
