The true story behind the iconic V-J Day sailor and ‘nurse’ smooch

They were going to Radio City Music Hall, to a 1:05 p.m. showing of “A Bell  for Adano,” starring Gene Tierney as a fisherman’s daughter who falls in love  with the US Army major assigned to her war-ravaged Italian village.

George and Rita never saw the end of the movie.

‘There was pounding on the doors from outside on the street,” George says. “They put the lights on and stopped the show and said, ‘The war is over, and the  Japanese have surrendered.’ ”

George and Rita flew out of Radio City and right into Childs Bar, just a few  blocks away. The bartenders had lined up glasses all along the bar and just kept  pouring. “I popped quite a few drinks,” George says.

Then he and Rita went to Times Square, and as they crossed Seventh Avenue at  44th Street, George caught sight of a woman in a nurse’s uniform: “What I  remembered about the nurses from five months earlier . . .”

Actually, George has it wrong. It had been three months before, out in the  Pacific, aboard the USS The Sullivans. He’d watched on the morning of May 11 as  two Japanese kamikaze planes, one after the other, smashed into the nearby USS  Bunker Hill, setting off a series of explosions and killing 346 sailors (43  bodies were never recovered). George helped pull hundreds of men, some horribly  burned, out of the water, and watched with awe as nurses went to work on them.

So on this joyous and unbelievable afternoon, George ran from Rita — the most  beautiful girl he’d ever seen — grabbed the first nurse he saw, spun her around,  dipped her and kissed her. Rita was just steps behind them, and in the photo  she’s beaming.

“A lot of people want to know what I was thinking,” she says. “It was a happy  day; I was grinning like an idiot. The kiss really didn’t bother me at all. If I  had been engaged, maybe.”

The kiss did kind of bother someone else, though: the woman in the nurse’s  uniform, Greta Zimmer, who wasn’t even a nurse. She was a 21-year-old dental  assistant from Queens, who, having heard rumors about the end of the war, walked  over to Times Square from her office on Lexington Avenue. George says he was so  drunk, he doesn’t even remember the kiss. Greta says she’ll never forget it.

Greta Zimmer was born and raised in Austria, and in 1939, after much debate,  her parents insisted that Greta and her two sisters flee to America. They were  among the last refugees to make it out, and even on the afternoon of Aug. 14, as  Greta read the illuminated news crawl declaring the end of the war, she had no  idea where her parents were, or if they were even alive.

She isn’t sure how long she was standing there; maybe minutes. “And then I  was grabbed,” she says. “That man was very strong. I wasn’t kissing him. He was  kissing me.”

Just as suddenly, he let her go. George stumbled off towards the subway, Rita  trailing behind, and Greta walked back to her office. George and Rita never  discussed the kiss, nor did Greta tell anyone what had happened to her.

Back then, it was just one of those things: “Obviously, to do that today — it’s not such a good idea,” says Lawrence Verria, co-author of “The Kissing  Sailor.” “But in Times Square, 1945, they hear the war’s over — it’s not such a  bad idea.”

None of them knew they had just been photographed by Eisenstaedt, that their  picture was about to be published in Life magazine, or that, decades later,  multiple men and women would come forward claiming to be that sailor and that  nurse.

Life magazine published the photo in the issue that ran right after V-J Day,  but not on the cover — it was buried on page 27. Over the years, Life ran the  image intermittently, but it wasn’t until 35 years later, after editors claimed  to have discovered the nurse (they had it wrong), that the photo caught fire.

George saw the photo for the first time in that 1980 issue, and he says, “It  was like looking in the mirror.”

Guess whom he didn’t spot?

“Rita saw the photo and goes, ‘I think that’s me,’ ” Verria says. “And George  goes, ‘Rita, that’s not you. It can’t be you.’ ”

He laughs. “Rita’s very soft-spoken. She lets him take the limelight.”

Greta, by now married with children, had the same reaction as George: She  knew it was her. “The seams in my stockings were perfectly straight — I was  always careful about that,” she says. “And it was my figure, and my hairdo. I  was carrying this little tapestry purse that I owned.”

Her husband, now deceased, noticed something else: The odd angle of the  woman’s left thumb. According to Verria, Greta’s husband said, “You know, when  you get very tense, your arm stiffens up and your thumb sticks out just like  that.”

George and Greta were but two of several people convinced that they were  Eisenstaedt’s subjects, and the mystery helped cement the image in the American  psyche. Yet no real attempt was made to identify the sailor and the nurse until  1987, when Life magazine announced it was selling prints of Eisenstaedt’s  photo.

Upset that he had effectively been edited out of history, George sued  Time-Life, and though he was outspent legally, Yale University professor of  photography Richard Benson agreed to examine the photo, along with three others  Life made available. Benson concluded that the sailor was, indeed, George, as  did the Mitsubishi Electric Research Lab in 1995 (they donated their services as  a contribution to history) and forensic anthropologist Norman Sauer, who was  contracted by the authors in 2009. Experts agree, through similar forensic  analysis, that the “nurse” is Greta. “The Kissing Sailor” has collected all the  research in hopes of being the final word on the subject.

The clincher for the authors is the presence of Rita, so long overlooked,  quite recognizable in outtakes standing in the background.

She says the photo, like the kiss, has never been an issue in their marriage. “I never gave too much thought to it,” she says. “By the time I knew about it,  I’d been married for years.”

Today, Greta Zimmer Friedman lives in Frederick, Md. After the war, she  learned that her parents had died in the camps, and she has never returned to  Austria.

George and Rita, now married for 66 years, live in Rhode Island, where a copy  of the famous photo hangs in their hallway and another downstairs. George says  he’d never hang it if his wife didn’t approve — “She’s the boss!” — and that  it’s true the kiss has never been discussed, before the photo’s enshrinement or  since.

After all, George says, “I’m still kissing Rita.”

New York Post