At the end of February, My Own True Love and I spent ten days in Austin, Texas. We were there several years ago for a wedding. Though we managed to squeeze in a little history nerdery,* there was more we wanted to see. We swore we would go back when we had more time. Almost twelve years later, we made it.

One of the things at the top of our must-do list, right under dancing the two-step every chance we got,** was the National Museum of the Pacific War in Fredericksburg, which we had by-passed with regrets on our previous trip.*** It was worth the wait.

The museum draws heavily on modern exhibit technology, and uses it well. It also uses the old-school tool of a timeline which weaves through the museum from room to room, settings events in the exhibit in the broader context of world history.  (I was amused to note that the Republic of Texas had a place on the timeline but the American Civil War did not.)

The first room effectively uses all the AV bells and whistles to place the war in the Pacific within the larger scope of World War II—a useful introduction even for those of us who have spent a lot of time steeped in the history of the war.

The next section, titled Seeds of Conflict, looks at relationships between Japan, China, and, to a lesser extent, the United States, beginning in the early nineteenth century and ending with the fall of Shanghai, the Rape of Nanking, and the occupation of Manchuria in 1937. As far as I was concerned, this was the most powerful section of the museum, because it told the story of Japan’s transformation from “closed” world of the Shogunate to the militarization and expansionism that led to its invasion of China in 1931**** and ultimately to the attack on Pearl Harbor.

The museum devotes a small exhibit to America’s political stance toward Japan in 1939 and 1940, which included cancelling trade agreements and embargoing the sale of high-grade scrap metal and gasoline. (New to me. And definitely not an act of neutrality.) It paints a picture of life in American in 1940, including but not limited to our lack of military preparedness.

Visitors move out of the small scale and quiet of the exhibit on peacetime America to a large dark room dedicated to a dramatic presentation on the attack on Pearl Harbor–the change in intensity in some ways echoes the shock of the actual event. From there, the museum follows the war in the Pacific campaign by campaign. (A few side rooms look at events in the United States, but that isn’t the main focus. ) Detailed descriptions of troop movements are accompanied by vignettes about individual participants and colorful details. The result is powerful and fascinating.

There are several additional exhibits on the museum campus: a gallery devoted to Admiral Nimitz’s life, several memorial gardens, an exhibit on aviation in the Pacific, and an immersive exhibit called The Rescue, based on a book of the same name by Steven Trent Smith. We didn’t get to most of the extra exhibits—the main museum was a full day event for us. But we started our day at The Rescue, and we were glad we did. It tells the real-life story how an American submarine rescued forty Americans, including 28 women and children and three Bataan survivors, who were stranded on Negros. (They incidentally rescued a box of top secret documents as well.) Led by one of the children, visitors creep through the jungle to the beach, board the submarine, and encounter a Japanese submarine. It was a surprisingly emotional experience, though I was distracted by how clean, coifed, and well dressed the women and children were.

Two thumbs up from each of us. Which would make four thumbs. But who’s counting?

*The Alamo!  The Lyndon B Johnson Presidential Library! The Bullock State Historical Museum.  (Why no exclamation mark? Because we totally forgot that we had been there. Even after spending a day in the museum on this trip, I had no memory of the visit until I searched in the History in the Margin archives for what I had written about the previous trip. I stand by the account I wrote then.)

**How many times did we get to a dance hall? None. Sandy got food poisoning (or perhaps the flu) which wiped him out for a couple of days,Then I came down with a nasty cold. Such are the hazards of road trips.

***Why is there a major museum about the Pacific theater of operations in Texas, we wondered.  Because Admiral Chester Nimitz, Commander of the Pacific Fleet and of all forces in the Pacific theater in WWII, was a Fredericksburg boy. He ended up in the navy by chance. Unable to get into West Point, he accepted a slot at the Naval Academy as his second choice.

****Arguably the true beginning of World War II.