BY ANI BOYADJIAN
One of the reasons I truly love my job is that after 25 years of working in this labyrinth called Central Library in Downtown Los Angeles, the rules of serendipity still apply when navigating over 2.2 million items. No matter how well we get to know our collections, we still find items of interest and intrigue almost every day.
While discussing an archival collection with a colleague, I glanced at some shelves in our closed stacks area (an area not accessible to the public), which hold some of our History Department folios—books that are older, large or hefty enough to warrant “Reference” or non-circulating status. Imagine my surprise when a book called “Armenian-American Veterans of World War II” caught my eye. I immediately took the volume down from the shelf, where it had been resting untouched, no doubt, for quite some time, and brought it to my office to have a look.
I searched the item in Worldcat, a national database, to see how many copies are in libraries—42 holdings, including ours. Most in California, but a good representation across the board. Our copy is water damaged, most likely from the fires of 1986. I wonder who was the good samaritan that dried up the book and didn’t throw it into the trash bin. Thank you, unknown good samaritan.
Published in 1951 by the “Our Boys” Committee of the Armenian General Benevolent Union, “Armenian-American Veterans of World War II” lists a near-exhaustive compendium of Armenian-American servicemen and women who served during the Second World War. The editor’s note states that this volume “concludes eight years of voluntary work, which was labor born of love for the boys and girls in service.” A preface by A. Karoghanlian, then President of the AGBU Board of Directors, mentions that “nearly 15,000 answered the call to the colors.” He also notes that “World War II, like all other wars, will in time become history instead of sharply-felt personal experience,” eerily cognizant of the effects of the inevitable march of the clock.
He knew why this painstaking work, and efforts like it, are so important. Included in the volume are a list of those who made the ultimate sacrifice, often with brief biographies, and an alphabetical list, with photographs, of the thousands of servicemen and women. The book also provides information on city of origins, service dates, service areas, as well as any medals or awards received by those who had fought. From Fresno and Los Angeles, to Milwaukee, Worcester, Detroit, New York City and Providence, the list is long, and the faces full of hope with the exuberance that only comes with youth.
Particularly touching and fascinating are the compiled stories of the dead, in the “They Live Forever in Our Hearts” section. The first entry lists a Corporal Louis Abajian, from my hometown of Montebello.
“The Montebello News of Montebello, California carried a feature story in its March 22, 1945 issue on the three Abajian brothers, Louis, Art and Albert, sons of Mr and Mrs George Abajian who were serving in the United States Army. At that time, Corporal Louis Abajian had been overseas with the infantry for twenty-nine months. Participating in the triumphal entry of the 40th Division into Manila, he had seen action in Hawaii, Guadalcanal, New Britain, Luzon and the Panay islands. On April 1, 1945, ten days after the newspaper story, Louis was killed while attacking an enemy group on the Negros islands. For gallantry in action….he was awarded the Silver Star on what would have been his twenty-fourth birthday.”
Story after personal story unfolded the lives of only sons, of artists, farmers, engineers, students, all cut down in the prime of their lives.
“In the folder accompanying John Ohanessian’s photograph was a slip of white paper with the words ‘only son’—a stark reminder of the doubly tragic loss of his parents, Mr and Mrs Avades Ohannessian of Milford, Massachusetts. John was called to the colors in November of 1942 and in the course of events, became first trombonist with the Army Band Century Division. After a brief career overseas in which he received the Purple Heart, John sacrificed his life on March 16, 1945 to save twelve of his buddies in the Battle of the Bulge. To comment appropriately on a deed of such tremendous heroism is beyond the realm of rhetoric.”
Beyond these incredibly moving stories is the herculean effort of the all-volunteer committee of 48 of what I’ll call community archivists–45 of them women–who not only sent birthday cards, Easter cards, and Christmas packages during the war, but spent nearly a decade gathering photographs, stories and biographical information to ensure the participation of these Armenian men would not be relegated to the dustbin of history. They are the unsung heroes behind this project.
I wonder, have any similar efforts been made to collect images, stories and biographical information of heroes—fallen or living—of the first and second Artsakh wars? There has been a push to collect oral histories, but surely more can be done to preserve their stories, their memory; to ensure, as the “Our Boys” committee so painstakingly has done, that their existence is honored, archived and made accessible—for their friends and families, for historians and scholars, and for whomever is a student of this time in history. Because we know full well it just isn’t enough to collect and archive. If it isn’t accessible to anyone, for all intents and purposes, it does not exist.
Titan of all things Armenian genealogy Mark Arslan, with his incredible Armenian Immigration Project, has done so much in the realm of collection of primary source material. Made available online to anyone with any internet connection, his lists include, but are not limited to, birth records, ship manifests, census data, newspaper ads (Armenians searching for long lost family members, which deserves its own article). This mammoth database also includes the names of servicemen by birth place.
There is so much work to do to chronicle our enduring presence in this country and in Armenia, and this involves collection, metadata work, archival work, preservation work, digital preservation and sustainability, and addressing issues of access and discoverability. The unsexy jobs of librarians and archivists, where little money flows and whose very work will undermine and destroy all attempts to erase or deny these histories, needs to be generously funded and supported.
We have seen how our presence is being erased in real time in Artsakh. Attempts to document those places and histories are now lost to us, regardless of what has been done. And if what has been done is not shared and preserved, it too will be meaningless.
There are countless projects waiting to be started, archives to be surfaced, collections to be digitized and made widely accessible—in short, stories and histories to be told. It requires a selfless vision and dedicated effort.
Thanks to the Our Boys committee of amateur archivists, the images and stories of Armenian-American veterans of World War II will not be forgotten. Who will collect and write the stories of all of our diasporan communities, yet to be told?
Ani Boyadjian is Research & Special Collections Manager at the Los Angeles Public Library. She is also a founding member of the International Association of Armenian Librarian and Archivists (iaala.org) which seeks to uncover, map and surface Armenian collections and archives worldwide. She encourages anyone interested to join. She can be reached at aboyadjian@lapl.org.
