I'm a Star, 1954

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The new Boeing 377 Stratocruiser had just landed in Tokyo, and two of its VIP passengers were about to begin their honeymoon in Japan. Their marriage had dominated the headlines: for Americans, it was the wedding of the century. Legendary New York Yankees center fielder Joe DiMaggio and his young wife stepped down onto the runway. The Major General of the US Army, Charles W. Christenberry, approached the newlyweds with a polite smile. His eye was inevitably drawn to the beauty who hung on the Yankee’s arm – an intoxicating blonde who commanded the attention of audiences back home. She was an actress, a supermodel before the term existed, a singer in her spare time, and an outrageously famous pin-up. You’ll have guessed, of course, that her name was Marilyn Monroe.

“Would you perhaps like to visit Korea for a few days while you’re here, maybe give the boys a little encouragement?” asked the Major General.

“Thanks for the offer,” replied Joe DiMaggio. “I’m not sure we’ll have time, though.”

                  “I wasn’t asking you,” said the Major General. “I was asking your wife.”

                  “I’d love to!” exclaimed Marilyn Monroe. “What do you think, Joe?”

                  “Sure, go if you like. It’s your honeymoon too, after all.”

At the Seoul military base, a stage had been set up for the star. The US Marines waited eagerly for the bombshell’s appearance. Some even wore her picture in their caps. Others carried copies of the Playboy in which she had posed nude. They chanted her name, feverish with excitement. Then out she came, the Hollywood star who emerged shaking the folds of her sequinned dress. She seemed to have walked right off a film set, on her way to a high-society party. It was a taste of home, and a fine taste at that. Her beauty was an oasis amidst the horror of war. Only she could make them forget the violence, and rouse their imaginations. The young woman would visit their dreams for many nights to come. Under a lead-gray sky, Marilyn climbed onto the stage. The marines were spellbound, applauding frantically and blowing kisses. She prowled and simpered, eyeing them coquettishly. The soldiers were ecstatic. Her aura was dreamlike, iconic, inaccessible, but here she was, in the flesh before their eyes. In a sultry voice, the sex symbol declared: “This is my first time on a stage in front of a live audience – and my favourite performance in front of any audience! It the best thing I’ve ever done. I’ll never forget my honeymoon with the 45th division!”

Marylin Monroe soon had to leave, but her whirlwind appearance had certainly boosted morale. As she climbed into the helicopter, she cried a final farewell: “Goodbye everyone! Goodbye, and God bless you! Thanks for being so nice. Think nice thoughts about me, now.” A hundred thousand bored and lonely soldiers had tears in their eyes. She was gone, like a dream upon waking.

Marilyn’s tour did not stop there. Performing for the troops had made her happy, and she wanted more. Their adoration was electrifying, even if all their love could never fill the void inside her. Could she have hoped for a better honeymoon? She would go on to meet thousands of troops, so many sad and desperate men all uplifted by her charms. This was her war effort; her weapons were beauty and charm, her tactics the lure of a dream. She never tired of the stage and its applause. She would later say: “It was so wonderful to look down and see all those people smiling at me. I never felt so desired!”

Alan Alfredo Geday