What did that mean, exactly? It meant that these teenage boys, much like their counterparts in more peaceful periods of 20th century America, were chiefly concerned with playing, eating, sleeping, and dating. This was true despite the reality that “The most important fact in the lives of American teenage boys is that they may have to go and fight Japan.”

LIFE elaborated further on what was on the minds of these youngsters:

The old skills are still admired—the ability to swim well, to memorize the names of football heroes, to have a quick wisecrack for the day’s every small event, to be popular. The ancient foibles are still pursued—homework is done in ten minutes. Mother is looked upon as a lovable servant, home is only for eating and sleeping. The greatest talent is an asset for endlessly happy skylarking.

The main way that the war impacted these young men was gas rationing, because it put a crimp in their fascination with cars, although they found ways to get around that. LIFE wrote, “In an almost gasless society, U.S. boys still have their old jalopies. They have found that a half-hour’s fast talking will usually net them an A coupon from dad and that their motors can often be made to run on a kerosene mixture.” The story put forth that the boys clung to their old cars because it helped with another chief interest of teenage boys is Des Moines, which was dating teenage girls in Des Moines.

Three months after this story ran, Japan surrendered, bringing an end to World War II. This meant that these boys were not only staying home but would have plenty of gas in those cars before too long.

Tom Moore, 17, examined the results of his first shave, Des Moines, 1945.

Nina Leen/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A teenage boy reached for a comb as he checked his reflection, Des Moines, Iowa, 1945

Nina Leen/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Teenage boys attempted to infiltrate what LIFE called “a hen party,” Des Moines, 1945.

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Teenager Richard Burns of Des Moines liked to have a cola and half of a box of Cheez-Its before going to bed, Des Moines, 1945.

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Teenage boys checked out the comic books and magazines at their local drug store, Des Moines, 1945.

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Teenage boys and girls enjoyed milkshakes at the drug store, Des Moines, 1945.

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Teenage boys on a Saturday afternoon in Des Moines, Iowa, 1945.

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Entering through windows was an initiation ritual for a club which called itself “the Molesters,” Des Moines, 1945.

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A teenage boy in Des Moines, Iowa, 1945.

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A teenager worked on a smashed fender in a garage in Des Moines, Iowa, 1945.

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Teenaged boys worked on their 1927 Ford Model T in Des Moines, Iowa, 1945.

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Teenage boys in Des Moines, Iowa, 1945.

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A teenage boy received a haircut, Des Moines, Iowa, 1945.

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A teenage boy in Des Moines, Iowa, 1945.

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A teenage boy in Des Moines, Iowa, 1945.

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A teenage boy in Des Moines, Iowa, 1945.

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A teenage boy in Des Moines, Iowa, 1945.

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Boys in Des Moines, Iowa, 1945.

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A teenage boy in Des Moines, Iowa, 1945.

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The post Heartland Cool: Teenage Boys in Iowa, 1945 appeared first on LIFE.

The Winter War lived up to its name when it came to the battle conditions, with temperatures dropping to as low as minus-45 degrees. The photos by LIFE’s Carl Mydans capture the unique aspects of this distinct theater of war. His pictures include Finnish soldiers making use of skis, sleds, and reindeer, and nestling into foxholes dug in snow.

Mydans wrote about his experiences covering the Winter War in the Jan. 29, 1940 issue of LIFE. He said the intense cold was FInland’s greatest ally in its war against the larger and more formidable Soviet forces:

The Finns are great soldiers and probably superior to any in the Arctic. They travel light, work on skis, outmaneuver the Russians, and are fighting for their own country. The daily prayer of Finland is for snow and more cold.

While Mydans recognized that the cold helped the Finnish soldiers, he also talked about how it made his photography more challenging. In the field he carried two cameras, always keeping one inside his sheepskin coat to keep them from freezing. He had to shoot with bare hands, resulting in what he called “nipped fingers.” He wrote, “Pictures lay at every glance, but I have never suffered more in getting them.”

The last of Mydans’ reports from Finland appeared in the March 11, 1940 issue of LIFE, and headline captured the tragic situation behind his compelling images: “The Last Agony of Fighting Finland is Wrapped in the Beauty of Snow.” The war ended when Finland, after earning admiration around the world for its valiant struggle, signed a peace treaty ceding border territory to Russia. One effect of this war is that Finland’s relative success diminished world opinion of Russia’s military capabilities to the point encouraged Adolph Hitler to invade Russia about three months after the Winter War had concluded. Finland estimates 25,904 of its soldiers went dead or missing. On the Russian side the numbers are even higher—estimates vary greatly by source, but some put it at 53,000 dead or missing. While not shown in this photo set for reasons of sensitivity, Mydans’s photos included many images of the corpses of Finnish soldiers laying frozen on the ground.

Reindeer were used to transport Finnish soldiers during the Russo-Finnish War, 1940.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Finnish soldiers during the Winter War of 1939-40,.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A Finnish soldier during the Winter War with Russia, December 1939.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A Finnish soldier during the Winter War with Russia, December 1939.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A Finnish soldier during the Winter War with Russia, 1939-40.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A Finnish soldier used a sled for transport during the Russo-Finnish War, 1939-40.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A Finnish cavalryman during the Russo-Finnish War in Finland, December 1939.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A Finnish soldier on the frontier near Lake Ladoga during war with Russia, 1940.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A Finnish ski patrol on the move following the Second Battle of Suomussalmi during the Russo-Finnish War, 1939-40.

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Finnish soldiers exit a bus wearing snow gear for patrolling near the Salla front lines during the Russo-Finnish War, December 1939

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Soldiers coming out of a cabin after a sauna bath on a day the temperature was minus-30, Finland, 1940.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A naked Finnish soldier smiled over his shoulder as he carried a pail of water through the snow to a sauna, Finland, 1940. The temperature that day was minus-30.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A bleak landscape during the Winter War, Petsamo Province, Finland, 1940.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Finnish soldiers watched a woman preparing a Christmas meal during the Russo-Finnish War, Dec. 23, 1939.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A Finnish soldier guarded a line of Russian carts captured in the Second Battle of Suomussalmi during the Russo-Finnish War, 1939.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Russian bread loaves lay scattered on the ground after a battle in Finland, December 1939.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Members of the American Ambulance Corps carried a wounded Finnish soldier from a battle with Russia, 1939-40.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A Finnish soldier with a whitewashed Finnish staff car (a Chevrolet) during the Winter War with Russia, December 1939.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Finnish soldiers sheltered in a dugout near the front lines during the Winter War with Russia, 1939-40; one of the images of a woman, found on a dead Russian soldier, was inscribed “Remember, I am always with you.”

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Finnish soldiers relaxed in a dugout near the front lines during war with Russia in early 1940; two weeks later the war would turn against them and these men would be among Finland’s many war dead.

Carl Mydans/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The post The Coldest Front: LIFE’s Coverage of the Winter War appeared first on LIFE.

Guadalcanal was an important early win for the Allies in World War II, but victory came at a high cost; 1,592 Americans were killed in action, another 4,183 were wounded and many more suffered from tropical diseases. On the Japanese side the toll was even greater, with 14,800 killed in action.

In Guadancanal, war was indeed hell. It’s something to keep in mind when viewing these photos of the joyful Christmas celebrations that the troops were able to muster on that remote and battle-torn island.

The pictures shot by LIFE staff photographer Ralph Morse ran in LIFE’s issue of March 1, 1943, when the campaign was over. The photos were part of a much larger story that was built around an excerpt from a book that would become a classic of war reporting, Guadalcanal Diary.

The Guadalcanal Christmas featured touches that American soldiers would have found familiar. A chaplain led midnight mass, a choir performed songs, and the troops were served a holiday meal that included turkey and pie.

Of course there were differences too. Santa was walking around in shorts because they were in the tropics and it was 90 degrees out. He wore a military helmet instead of a red stocking cap. The presents he distributed were provided by the Red Cross. The only family these soldiers could be with was the found family they had made with each other.

And if the energy in the photos is any indication, they were grateful for all of it.

American soldiers celebrating Christmas in Guadalcanal, 1942; one soldier held a sign with a message for Japanese prime minister Hideki Tojo.

Ralph Morse/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Santa Claus, wearing red shorts on a 90 degree day, visited a field hospital during the Guadalcanal campaign, 1942. He toured hospitals around the island in a Chevrolet captured from Japanese forces and gave out presents supplied by the Red Cross.

Ralph Morse/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Soldiers prepared turkeys to be cooked for a Christmas meal during the Guadalcanal campaign, 1942.

Ralph Morse/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

U.S. soldiers cut up mince pies in preparation for a Christmas celebration in Guadalcanal, 1942.

Ralph Morse/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A church flag flew above the stars and stripes during Christmas celebrations for the American forces in Guadalcanal, 1942.

Ralph Morse/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

American soldiers celebrated midnight mass on Christmas eve in Guadalcanal, 1942.

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A choir sang on Christmas eve in Guadalcanal, 1942; this group toured the island with Santa to perform for soldiers during the holiday.

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The post Cheer Amid Wartime: Santa Visits Guadalcanal appeared first on LIFE.

Harold Lumbert was a civilian living thousands of miles away when Japanese pilots bombed Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941. He was 21 years old and working on an assembly line in Aurora, Illinois. He had been married for eight months and his wife Burnette was pregnant with their first child, a son named David.

But Pearl Harbor drew the United States into World War II, and eventually Lumbert into the Marines, by way of the draft. He was shipped overseas in November 1944. And he became one of 670,846 Americans who were wounded during the war.

During fighting at Iwo Jima, he was hit by a Japanese shell that tore away the flesh at the front of his skull, broke his lower jaw in seven places and also ripped the nerves at the base of his neck. He was sure he was about to die, and he wondered to himself, “How is Burnette going to bring up the kid?”

Lumbert didn’t die, but he would stay in hospitals into 1947, enduring 33 major operations and countless smaller procedures, in an effort to put his face back together.

As one operation followed another, with painful missteps along the way, Lumbert became increasingly worried about what he looked like—and he had no idea, not only because he was bandaged but also because, to his great frustration, the hospital staff kept him away from mirrors. Finally, in the office of the dentist who had been working on his jaw, with his bandages off, Lumbert slid down in the chair to get a look at himself in the reflection of the metal instrument tray. The dentist, seeing what he was doing, relented and gave Lumbert a proper mirror:

The doctor watched and said nothing while Lumbert stared into the mirror at an apparition that was mostly a hole from the sockets of its burning eyes down. The remaining flesh hung shapeless because there was no longer an upper jaw nor much of the front of the skull to support it. A framework of aluminum bars was fastened to the skull with screws and looped down to give some kind of alignment to the fragments of the lower jaw. The sight, the doctor knew, could destroy a man; he prayed that it would not destroy this one.

Lumbert’s face was rebuilt, and so too, slowly, was his life. He eventually returned to Aurora and his job on the assembly line. Lumbert had feared his wife would leave him, given his disfigurement, but Burnette stayed by his side, and their family grew. They would have three more children, though in a tragic accident their first-born, David, died in 1953, at age 10, after falling from a tree and fracturing his skull.

LIFE devoted 18 pages to Lumbert’s story. The photographs, taken by George Silk, show Lumbert with his wife and three daughters, and with friends, partaking in the satisfactions of everyday life. What SIlk’s photographs do not show, however, is Lumbert’s face. Silk photographed Lumbert from behind or over the shoulder, or with Lumbert’s face in the shadows.

The choice not to show Lumbert’s face is a powerful one because of what Silk does capture in abundance: the friends and family who are enjoying Lumbert’s company. Especially when Lumbert is with his daughters, their eyes are looking at him with love.

In the story Lumbert talked about how he enjoyed the company of his daughter’s friends, because kids had an easier time with his appearance. “If you grab the chance, you can make a friend out of a youngster before she knows what’s happening,” Lumbert explained. “Once that’s done, she thinks of you as a friend and it won’t even occur to her that you look different from anybody else.”

It’s the real message of Silk’s photos: how Lumbert looks matters less than how the people in his life see him. That message is brought home by the story’s closing lines:

By now Lumbert fully understands the special vision which allows children to see beyond the face of a man. As he watches his daughters happily shuffle through the family album and talk about the photographs of their father as he was long ago, he knows that they know that the two faces belong to the same man.

Harold Lumbert and wife Burnette with their son David, before Lumbert deployed to the Pacific in World War II.

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Marine Private Harold Lumbert on his last leave in 1944 before he deployed to the Pacific in World War II.

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David Lumbert, son of World War II veteran Harold Lumbert, at age 5. David died in 1953 at age 10, after falling from a tree and fracturing his skull.

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World War II veteran Harold Lumbert operated a fork lift at work in Aurora, Illinois, 1961.

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World War II veteran Harold Lumbert with daughter Joann, 1961.

George Silk/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

World War II veteran Harold Lumbert consoled his daughter Sue, 1961.

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Joann Lumbert gets help with homework from her father, World War II veteran Harold Lumbert, 1961.

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World War II veteran Harold Lumbert held the hand of his daughter Sue just before her bedtime, 1961.

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World War II veteran Harold Lumbert and his daughter Sue, 1961.

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World War II veteran Harold Lumbert with daughter Sue, 1961.

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World War II veteran Harold Lumbert played with his daughter Sue, 1961.

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World War II veteran Harold Lumbert drove with his daughter Sue, 1961.

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World War II veteran Harold Lumbert said grace with his wife Burnette and his three daughters (left to right): Patricia Ann (14), wife Bernadette, Virginia Sue (5), and, mostly hidden by her father, Joann May (11).

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World War II veteran Harold Lumbert with his three daughters, 1961.

George Silk/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

World War II veteran Harold Lumbert talked with a neighbor, George Glass, with whom he felt at ease, 1961.

George Silk/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

World War II veteran Harold Lumbert and his family hosted a dance party in their home, 1961.

George Silk/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Harold Lumbert with his daughter Joann Lumbert (right) as she and a friend ride a go-kart, 1961.

George Silk/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

World War II veteran Harold Lumbert walked with wife Bernadette and daughters Sue and Patricia, 1961.

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The post Face of a Fighter: A Special Pearl Harbor Story appeared first on LIFE.

Through its first decades Aberdeen was a man’s world. But that changed during World War II. LIFE covered extensively the real-life Rosie the Riveters who moved into industrial jobs during that era, and the women who became weapons-testers for the first time in Aberdeen were part of that same phenomenon.

The story in LIFE’s Feb. 1, 1943 issue described how the soldiers who once worked the testing grounds but had been deployed overseas were at first replaced by male civilians. Then “as the draft hit hard, the civilians began to disappear and in their place came thousands of women.”

And who were these women?

The women come from everywhere. Many have husbands in the Army. Others have husbands who also work at Aberdeen. They wear bright-colored slacks, and their “firing fronts” are a rippling blend of pink. blue and orange, mixed with white and black powder from the guns. They serve on crews of all weapons up to the 90-mm A.A.’s. [anti-aircraft guns]. They handle highly technical instruments. They drive trucks, act as bicycle messengers, swab and clean vehicles. A few of them have even been tested as tank drivers, but that work, with its physical bruises, is still a little too tough for them.

The declaration of that last sentence reflected a time when women were making their first inroads to military service. In 1942 the WACs had just come into being (see LIFE’s coverage of the first WACs here) and the change in attitudes about what roles women could play was slow and incremental. It was not until 2015 that the Department of Defense opened all military occupations and positions to women.

The photographs by Myron Davis and Bernard Hoffman capture a world in transition. Some pictures indulge in the novelty of the moment—such as the photo of a woman who looks like a schoolmarm set up behind the sites of a machine gun with an ammunition belt being fed through it. But in other photos the women, such as Mrs. Ruby Barnett, a grandmother who had never fired a gun before coming to work at Aberdeen, look right at home in their new jobs. Those pictures seem to ask the question about the women taking on this new line of work: Well, why not?

A woman tested a 30 caliber machine gun at the Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland, 1942.

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Women loaded shells into an anti-aircraft gun at the Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland, 1942.

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A group of men and women tested a 90 mm anti-aircraft gun at the Aberdeen Proving Grounds in Maryland, 1942.

Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Viola Testerman carried a 41-pound shell at the Aberdeen Proving Ground, 1942.

Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Betty Wainwright and Opal Burchette fed cartridges into magazines at the Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland, 1942.

Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Nealie Bare at work at the Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland, 1942. Here she hammered a plug into a test shell to keep the shell’s sand from running out.

Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Mrs. Ruby Barnett, a grandmother, had never fired a gun before coming to work at the Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland during World War II.

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Mrs. Ruby Barnett at work at the Aberdeen Proving Ground, Maryland, 1942.

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Mrs. Ruby Barnett was among the women who tested artillery at the Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland, 1942.

Myron Davis/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Mrs. Ruby Barnett, a grandmother, tested a carbine at the Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland, 1942.

Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Women fired machine guns at the Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland, 1942.

Myron Davis/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Women tested machine guns at the Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland, 1942.

Myron Davis/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A woman loaded a bullet aircraft cannon at the Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland, 1942.

Myron Davis/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

A women tested a 20 millimeter aircraft cannon at the Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland, 1942.

Myron Davis/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Aerial view of testing range at Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland, 1942.

Bernard Hoffman/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

The post The New Crew: Women Testing Weapons During World War II appeared first on LIFE.

In the late 1960s the warship landed a glamorous assignment when it used in the recovery operations for astronauts who had returned from the Apollo 11 and Apollo 12 missions and needed to be pulled from the ocean. It was in 1969, during its astronaut-rescue period and in its final year of service, that LIFE photographer Lynn Pelham traveled on the Hornet and documented how the crew spent its leisure time.

The crew seemed to be having a ball, at least some of the time. Splash pools, volleyball games, drum kits, basking in the sun, general horseplay. With activities like these, who needs shore leave?

Well, probably they all did, and desperately. In those days, aircraft carriers didn’t even have their own Starbucks and gyms and other amenities found aboard their modern counterparts.

The Hornet was decommissioned in 1970 and now serves as a museum in Alameda, California.

The crew of the USS Hornet enjoying some down time, 1969.

Lynn Pelham/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Crew members of the U.S.S. Hornet aircraft carrier, 1969.

Lynn Pelham/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Crew members of the U.S.S. Hornet aircraft carrier, 1969.

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Life aboard the U.S.S. Hornet aircraft carrier, 1969.

Lynn Pelham/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Crewmen of the U.S.S. Hornet, 1969.

Lynn Pelham/LIfe Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Life aboard the U.S.S. Hornet aircraft carrier, 1969.

Lynn Pelham/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Crew members play volleyball aboard the U.S.S. Hornet aircraft carrier, 1969.

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Volleyball aboard the U.S.S. Hornet, 1969.

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The crew of the U.S.S. Hornet aircraft carrier, 1969.

Lynn Pelham/Life Picture Collection/Shutterstock

Crew members sunbathing on the U.S.S. Hornet, 1969.

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Life aboard the U.S.S. Hornet aircraft carrier, 1969.

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Life aboard the U.S.S. Hornet aircraft carrier, 1969.

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Front view of U.S.S. Hornet, 1969.

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The post Aircraft Carrier Summer: All Hands on Deck appeared first on LIFE.