The Past is Still Present: A WWII Nurse Shares Her Memories in 2026
The residents of the Monmouth Crossing Assisted Living facility in Freehold awaited the guest of honor, absorbing themselves in animated conversation and Wheel of Fortune in the meantime. A message arrived that they would need to wait just a few minutes longer; Evelyn Buchman Tuntunjian was taking a moment to sun herself outside.
A festive sheet cake sat atop the table, proclaiming Evelyn a Living Legend. Next to it sat two black and white photographs of a striking woman in her early twenties, one that could easily have been a publicity portrait for a glamorous Hollywood picture, the other of a WWII Army nurse in her full uniform, smiling broadly outside her medical tent. The war ended 81 years ago, and Evelyn was being honored for her service by the Military Women’s Memorial.
Dana Howell and Joe Zemla, historians at the Monmouth County Historical Association, were contacted by Brian Trionfo, business manager of Carousel of Home Care, to document Evelyn’s story. Trionfo’s agency had been caring for Evelyn for years; though he knew her service should be recognized, he had been held back by one small problem. She didn’t want recognition. She didn’t want fanfare. She didn’t even want flowers. What for, she asked? She had done her duty, nothing more.
Trionfo ultimately succeeded in encouraging a very humble Evelyn to share her story with Howell and Zemla. The interview would take place in her neat little apartment, where the wall showcased a celebration of personal artwork, colorful crafts, pictures of loved ones and decorations from all of the holidays at once - the Fourth of July, Valentines Day, Halloween, Christmas…even Mardi Gras.
Evelyn arrived with her walker, coasting in with surprising ease and speed to her recliner, where she gently swatted away Trionfo’s offer of assistance. She had been sitting herself down for 107 years at this point - she could do it herself. As she sat, she announced matter-of-factly that she really had nothing interesting to say. She declined to put in her hearing aids, declaring that she hated them, and issued instructions to speak up. "Well, all right!" they said. The lady is in charge. She then began to open up about her life, beginning eleven decades ago.
Evelyn’s parents were Russian Jews, witnessing the pinnacle of decades of persecution and violence in the anti-semitic, murderous mobs called pogroms, the most violent surge of which occurred during the Russian Revolution of 1905. Her father, Harry, had been a radical, fighting against these injustices, landing himself on certain “lists” that were going to make it far too dangerous for him to ever make a life there. He had no choice but to emigrate to New York. Her mother, Mollie, followed in 1907, where the two met in a Manhattan factory.
With tenement rents skyrocketing and an economic downturn that brought turmoil as the Lower East Side of Manhattan saw the loss of between 75,000 and 100,000 jobs, the first organized rent strikes gained a foothold that spread across the city. While Harry and Mollie faced more uncertainty as to what their future would look like in America, nothing could compare to the horrors of the pogroms. They got married and began their family together, free to at least live in relative peace and safety.
Evelyn was born in Manhattan on September 11th, 1919, the third of five children. The family moved frequently from apartment to apartment, and always on the fifth floor if her father could secure it; with no elevators, the upper floors were the cheapest. They had to cut costs where they could, particularly during the Depression. The trauma of their experience in Russia made her parents refuse to label themselves as Jewish, stressing instead that being good and decent people should suffice. Still, they continued to maintain a Kosher household, struggling internally to completely leave behind an identity that had been so deeply held. Evelyn chuckled that when the high holidays came around, her father suddenly became “very Jewish” again as they practiced the cherished traditions of their own childhoods back home. She was sympathetic to their suffering but expressed disappointment in the absence of a strong religious identity, and particularly disliked writing “Nothing” on forms that asked for her affiliation.
She described her apartment on Fifth Ave and 107th St. with fondness, remembering the concerts in Central Park that felt like their own personal performances. Despite the economic hardships of the Depression, she never felt they went without. East Harlem’s vibrant immigrant population of the early 1930s was populated with Jews from all over Europe in addition to the robust presence of Italians, Irish, Puerto Ricans, and blacks. At a time when many tended to interact within their ethnic and religious bubbles despite living amongst each other, Evelyn noted that the Protestant and Catholic neighborhood kids tended not to come around because her family was different.
Evelyn attended the all-girls Julia Richman High School in Manhattan until she was about 14. Her eldest brother had gotten a job teaching out in Coney Island, and her father subsequently moved the family to Brooklyn, concerned over the safety of his children riding the subway. She then enrolled at the brand-new Abraham Lincoln High School on Ocean Parkway, where she excelled in math. Her high IQ made her stand out, and she was accepted to Hunter College. Despite her great mathematical proficiency, her marks suffered as she struggled with the college’s language requirement; French was not coming easily to her. She could not complete her course studies and was dropped after two years.
Determined, Evelyn continued to work during the day and attended courses at night to try to get her grades back up to speed. There she met a friend in the same predicament, who had decided to go to nursing school instead. Feeling this was a practical path, Evelyn’s parents supported her by moving to a smaller apartment to afford the nursing school tuition. She enrolled in 1940 and graduated two years later at the top of her class, having discovered a propensity for Latin that enabled her to satisfy the program's language requirement with flying colors. Her knowledge, skill, and intuition made her a popular choice for surgeons in the operating room as she instinctively handed them their next instrument without missing a beat.
With the outbreak of WWII on December 7th, 1941 and her brother’s subsequent draft into the Army, Evelyn felt compelled to enlist as well. She was rejected due to bad tonsils, but not daunted. She simply had them removed the next day, and was back at work several days later, making a second attempt at enlistment. This time, she was cleared for duty.
After the completion of basic training in 1943, she crossed the Atlantic on the Mauretania II, expressing not fear but excitement at the prospect of passing through dangerous, enemy submarine-filled waters to her destination of Liverpool, England. It was not the subs, but rather the seasickness, that put a damper on her trip. She spent the majority of the crossing confined to her bunk rather than enjoying the ocean views she had hoped for.
Her assignment was to train the incoming medics on proper scrub techniques to prevent the spread of infection, but she was disappointed to discover they had already come well-equipped with this knowledge. Again, she was quickly tapped for her skill in the operating room, where she served in both England and in South Wales. She became the talk of the town when a doctor found himself at a loss for an assisting doctor in the midst of an emergency, and Evelyn stepped in to effortlessly fill that role. Her star status did not afford her any luxuries, however; the nurses slept on nothing more than the taut canvas of cots in the medical tents while prisoners of war slept on mattresses. And despite the romantic and dramatic visions of WWII hospitals that Hollywood has embedded in our psyches - soldiers talking of home and family and sweethearts - Evelyn maintained that the men were more concerned with what was for lunch than anything else. Food was a priority, promotions were the next best thing, and everything else would fall into place.
While the service of the nurses was indispensable to the war effort, Evelyn recalled the general British civilian attitude towards women in uniform. It was not a popular thing among the more reserved culture. The nurses would often be chastised by passersby as they marched, or even simply walked through town on leave, enduring comments that they should not be in uniform. More importantly, they should not be wearing pants. Little did these buttoned-up civilians know that their chaste opinions and unsolicited advice were falling on deaf ears. It was not the pants the nurses were concerned with, but more so the avoidance of getting pregnant. That was the tricky part.
Meanwhile, the students back at Evelyn's very own alma mater, Abraham Lincoln High School, were protesting the prejudice against girls in pants. After a female student was sent home to change from slacks to a skirt, a number of girls ditched the dress code and returned to school in slacks in solidarity:
"Students Back Girl Rebuked on Slacks." Brooklyn Eagle (Brooklyn, NY) March 26, 1942 Detroit bomber plant workers wearing slacks, 1942. Library of Congress photograph collection. 1941 British poster recruiting women (in skirts, naturally...). International War Museum collection.
After two years of service, the war in Europe was finally over, but Evelyn was not yet free to return home. There was the looming fear that they would be sent to the Pacific theater, although that fear was quickly allayed with the final and formidable statement of the atomic bomb in August of 1945. 1st Lt. Evelyn Buchman returned home to her parents in 1946, finding the adjustment back to civilian life an easy one. She was amused to find her mother participating in the common - though technically frowned-upon - practice of exchanging rationed items among friends based on who needed what.
Evelyn quickly got a job in a hospital specializing in treating venereal disease, which was a rampant scourge as the soldiers returned home to their sweethearts with promises - many of them even kept - of marriage and family. Soon Evelyn met John Tutunjian, a Protestant Armenian with whom she shared a good deal in common, including their democratic political leanings. As their friendship evolved, John proposed marriage, given that they already had their papers in place. Post-war marriage was not a matter of showing up at the Town Hall - proper identification, an application, and blood tests made a waiting period for approval a requirement. Military papers qualified them for rush approval, and the couple surprised their families by eloping. The hardest part, she said, was getting used to spelling her new last name.
John and Evelyn Tutunjian were married for 54 years, during which time she settled into the comfortable role of school nurse, gardening club enthusiast, and mother of two children, Gary and Louise. Evelyn remembered the hole left by the absence of a strong connection to faith, and noticed many of the neighborhood children attending events and celebrations at the local Protestant church. She began volunteering there, teaching Sunday school classes and ultimately adopting the religion so that her children would not have that same hollow feeling. They would be able to write “Protestant” on any form that asked.
By the time Evelyn reached her 100th birthday, they had all gone on ahead of her, though she continued to receive the love and support of extended family. She has one niece remaining, and pictures of the youngest family generation light up her wall with smiles on the playground. She lived in her two-story home in Freehold with the assistance of visits from her Carousel of Home Care certified home health aide, where she insisted on daily meal and grocery deliveries that forced her to use the stairs. When it was suggested that she have deliveries come weekly instead, she refused, crediting the exercise for her good health. It is very clear that Carousel provided her with excellent care and compassion, always respecting what she felt she needed to stay strong and independent.
Of particular importance in Evelyn’s story is that she was unaware that she was entitled to VA benefits, including financial assistance for home health care, until her 100th birthday. It wasn’t a political statement, it just never occurred to her that she was eligible for anything given that she had not been injured in the war. She went many years needing help, but never had it. This is unfortunately a common theme amongst veterans in a similar situation - Trionfo, an ardent supporter of veterans, stresses the important message that these benefits are available to all veterans in grateful thanks for their selflessness, service, and sacrifice. The fact that Evelyn never applied may account for why she does not appear in search results for the few surviving WWII nurses.
At 106, the move to Monmouth Crossing Assisted Living seemed a logical choice. Evelyn was instantly a celebrity, the status of which she maintains to this day in her 107th year. She glides unassisted through the halls, cheerfully greeting the residents as she goes about her business. A true force for over a century, Evelyn’s story is the farthest thing from the “nothing interesting” she claimed it to - she inspires naturally with her fortitude, resilience and bright spirit, and continues to serve as an example for all who have had the pleasure of meeting her.
Listen to Evelyn's story here.
