Postwar expectations were modest. For millions of homesick servicemen, paradise was a simple, ordinary, boring life in a free country where no one was ordering them around or trying to kill them. When they dreamed of home, commonplace amenities and rituals assumed exaggerated significance—privacy, leisure, a cup of coffee at a dime store counter, a walk in the park, the company of women, pushing a child on a swing, physical safety, a soft mattress, and a good night’s sleep. Whatever their pent-up resentments against the “folks back home,” the fighting men had learned to love and appreciate
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