Over Here: How the G.I. Bill Transformed the American Dream

In a university town like Columbia, the G.I. Bill that kicked in at the end of World War II is spoken of reverently for the most part. The law provided a seemingly endless stream of new students and income to campuses across the nation.

When a bill becomes a law, more often than not it seems to leave unintended consequences in its wake. That happened with the G.I. Bill as World War II wound down. The unintended consequences, however, were mostly positive.
Some authors overstate the importance of their topics, but Edward Humes provides ample evidence for statements such as this: “If the bill’s transformation of college in America from an elite bastion to a virtual entitlement proved revolutionary, its home loan provisions were nothing short of radical.”

As Humes opens Over Here, about one of the most remarkable social engineering efforts in U.S. history, Allan Howerton is trying to find his place in American society after fighting the Nazis during World War II. Rather than allow the wave of returning veterans to crush his spirit, Howerton decides to enroll in college and earn a degree while sorting out his employment options. As he exits a crowded, creaky trolley car in an unfamiliar city, he sees a sign confirming he has reached his destination. University of Denver, it reads. Howerton enrolls for freshman classes.
The G.I. Bill that helped World War II veterans readjust to civilian life after 1945 is one of the rare laws “everybody knows about.” But Humes’s expansive account of how the G.I. Bill changed American society in expected and unexpected ways demonstrates that what “everybody knows” is not even the half of it.

Officially called the Servicemen’s Readjustment Act, the law allowed millions of men and women to buy homes that would have been beyond their means, attend colleges by paying tuitions they could never have afforded and receive increasingly expensive, sophisticated health care.

The human dramas scattered throughout the narrative are irresistible. Humes’s handful of real-life protagonists invent sophisticated weapons for use in the Cold War, populate suburbs in tract homes that alter the urban-rural equation, become beloved physicians and teachers and film directors — all because the G.I. Bill provided otherwise unimaginable opportunities.
Humes leavens the upbeat chapters with a case study of a woman veteran who faces obstacles receiving the benefits legally due to her, and a black veteran who must overcome even greater obstacles placed there by power brokers who have failed to learn the lesson that all are equal on the battlefield. Veterans returning from the Civil War, World War I, Korea, Vietnam and the Persian Gulf did not fare as well across the board; the historical context provided by Humes makes the success of the G.I. Bill all the more poignant.

What about Howerton at the University of Denver? As Humes notes, Howerton’s college experience “was as much about healing as it was about learning, as much about getting over being a G.I. as it was about using the G.I. Bill.” Of the 200 men in Howerton’s combat division, 42 died under fire. “When he came home and found his way to Denver, he considered himself blessed, hale and hearty. In truth, he would later realize, he was ‘torn up inside.’ It took time for that to change.”

Howerton became involved in political campaigns while earning a bachelor’s degree in international relations. He worked for United Airlines, earned a master’s degree, found a government job in Washington, D.C., married, and fathered three children.

As such case studies suggest, the book will provide nostalgia for the World War II generation and a well-rounded education for readers born later.