World War II wasn’t merely altering global borders or military tactics—it remade American society in ways that nobody could have expected, particularly regarding the place of women. As the United States dived into the war effort, a nagging question posed itself: with millions of men off to fight, who would keep things humming behind the scenes? The surprise answer, one that would forever alter the face of the U.S. military, was women.
Before the war, women were always on the scene, but seldom officially included. During the Revolutionary and Civil Wars, they functioned as nurses and cooks, and even went undercover as men to become fighters. A temporary exception occurred with World War I, when women were permitted to enlist in the Navy as Yeoman (F), more affectionately known as “yeomanettes.” But with the return of peace, so did tradition, and virtually all women’s jobs disappeared from the military, except for the Navy Nurse Corps.
But WWII brought a crisis that tradition couldn’t repair. As world conflict mounted and America was stretched taut, the military simply needed more bodies. The popularity of such women’s units in Allied countries prompted American legislators to rethink. Congresswoman Edith NourseRogers, who had witnessed firsthand the absence of organization for women in WWI, introduced the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps (WAAC) in 1941. Shortly thereafter, it became the Women’s Army Corps (WAC). The Navy soon got in on the act, creating WAVES—Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service—in 1942. The Coast Guard and Marine Corps soon followed, creating SPARS and the Marine Corps Women’s Reserve.
The Navy had particularly lofty expectations. WAVES was headed by Wellesley College president Mildred McAfee and was intended to recruit professional women for officer ranks. Women required a high school diploma simply to enlist, and officer candidates must have completed a minimum of two years of college. The women trained in locations such as Smith College and Hunter College, learning everything from navigation to mechanics. The Army’s WAC, under Oveta Culp Hobby, also prioritized professionalism and dignity. They desired to demonstrate that women could serve—and be proud to serve.
Recruiting wasn’t simple. At the time, enlisting in the military wasn’t considered a natural progression for women, so the campaigns had to tread carefully. They highlighted patriotism, competence, and purpose and assured the public that servicewomen could still be feminine. One notorious Navy advertisement that included a pin-up model was hastily withdrawn after WAVES leaders complained. After this, the tone of the messages changed. Their uniforms were created by leading fashion designers, such as Mainbocher, and a Navy officer was later to say that WAVES “held their heads high because they believed themselves to be the best-dressed women in America.”
Despite all the meticulous planning, being in uniform as a woman had its difficulties. Lots of men questioned their presence. Risible rumors were spread, claiming female recruits were not qualified or immoral. Indeed, 1943 had a full-blown slander campaign going against women in the Army, particularly the WACs. Such accusations were not only hurtful—they damaged recruitment and strained interpersonal relationships at home.
But the job these women performed was impossible to deny. They weren’t merely secretaries and typists. WAVES worked as air traffic controllers, codebreakers, radio technicians, aircraft mechanics, and even instructed male pilots. Many toiled in naval aviation squadrons, performing such tasks as parachute testing and advanced simulator training. Across the way in the Army, WACs operated switchboards, drove trucks, maintained machinery, sorted mail, and even assisted on top-secret work on the Manhattan Project. They were the sole female military members officially deployed overseas, in Europe, North Africa, India, and the Pacific.
Nevertheless, not all women had these opportunities in like proportions. Both the WAVES and WAC began as predominantly white groups. But as the war wore on and manpower demands grew, pressure from civil rights leaders forced concessions. In 1944, Harriet Ida Pickens and Frances Wills were the first Black women commissioned as Navy officers. Meanwhile, the Army WAC started enlisting more Black recruits, but too frequently relegated them to chores. One of the strongest exceptions was the 6888th Central Postal Directory Battalion, composed of Black and Latina women. They were sent overseas to sort out a massive mail pileup for troops abroad, and they did an excellent job.
When the war ended, so did many of the opportunities women had just begun to explore. Most female personnel were discharged and told to return to civilian life. The military downsized quickly, and most women’s units were disbanded. But something had changed. Women had proven beyond any doubt that they were capable, disciplined, and essential.
This silent revolution culminated in a giant leap forward. In 1948, Congress approved the Women’s Armed Services Integration Act. For the first time in American history, women could be permanent, regular members of the armed services—not merely during war, not merely as a temporary fix, but as equals.
During WWII, over 350,000 American women stepped up to serve in more than 200 different roles. Their impact wasn’t just operational—it was cultural. They helped dismantle long-held beliefs about what women could or couldn’t do, laying the foundation for future generations of female soldiers, sailors, pilots, and leaders.
Their fatigues are now museum artifacts, but their heritage lives on. Each time a woman commands a warship, pilots a combat mission, or is awarded her stars, she does so on a trail first blazed in the 1940s by the WAVES, the WACs, and the millions of others who dared to serve when the country needed them most.