An edited repost.
It was 70 years ago today. For everyone of that generation – the “greatest generation”, although they didn’t know it yet – it was for them what 9/11 has become for us, without the internal rancor and divisions. Everyone could tell you exactly where they were that day. What they were wearing. Who they were with. The ones who didn’t make it back, after all the fighting was done.
Everyone alive that day remembered where they were and what they were doing the moment that a faraway world jumped in through the window and importuned itself upon a country still clawing its way out of the Great Depression. A country inwardly focused, callused by hardship. A country largely eager to remain clear of yet another nasty European brawl. A country suddenly at war.
Coming home from the Arabian Sea in the autumn of 1987, the USS Constellation pulled in to Pearl Harbor to pick up “Tigers” – family members who would sail with us from Hawaii to San Diego. On a whim my roommates and I went up to the flight deck in our summer whites to “man the rail” as we entered port. We were young and happy and ready for anything, laughing as we came on deck.
It’s a beautiful port entry, the water absurdly blue and green and white all at once, a warm breeze snapping at your trousers, happy thoughts of future entertainments never far from the forefront of your mind. You see the family housing of Hickham Air Force Base pass close along the starboard side – close! So close you could almost toss a biscuit ashore. And then you see Ford Island loom up to port, and you become thoughtful, remembering your lessons, remembering your parents’ conversations, remembering “battleship row.” Remembering because it had been passed down to you as an admonition, as a warning, as a duty: Remember.
Never forget.
And then you see her on the port quarter, what little there is to see of her above the water from an acute angle: The number 3 barbette of the USS Arizona, the watery graveyard of 1100 men and a mute testament both to perfidy and unpreparedness. Seventy years after she went down, little rainbow pools of oil still bubble to the surface from within trapped spaces and voids. Footless passageways and machinery spaces embrace the mouldering bones of sailors whose names are known but to God. The old salts say that these oil blots are her tears of rage and anguish, her tears of loss and bereavement. They say that she is weeping.
They say that she is weeping still.
These melancholy thoughts are interrupted by the trilling sound of a bosun’s whistle on the 5MC, two short blasts – “Attention to port!” The flight deck snaps to attention. One short blast follows – “Hand salute!” A long moment passes in the heat, the sweat suddenly liberated, trickling down your back as your arm goes up and holds, holds. A silent and expectant moment as one great ship glides softly past another, a thousand crewman rendering honors to another thousand from a far different time, from a far different land. The moment stretches, breaks, and at last is over: Two short blasts – “Ready, two!” And finally, three blasts – “Carry on.”
According to immutable naval custom, the junior ship initiates the rendering of passing honors, while the senior ship returns it. But senior though she may be, there will never again be a salute returned from onboard Arizona. No bosun’s pipe echoes across the water. No one mans her rails. My brothers and I took one long look back at the memorial receding behind us, exchanged silent glances between ourselves, saying with our eyes the things we could never allow ourselves to say out loud. Went below in quiet introspection. It wouldn’t last forever – we were after all, young and careless. But we wouldn’t forget that moment, not ever.
We would remember.
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An excellent movie containing interviews of both US and Japanese survivors of Pearl Harbor. There won’t be many more like this.
Well worth a look, if you’ve got the time.
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Update: An interesting look at Admiral Isororu Yammamoto, the Japanese architect of the Pearl Harbor campaign.
I have to disagree with part of that, Lex.
The crew of the Arizona is there at the rails every time. And likely nod in approval at the dedication and professionalism of those they watch pass by.
Another perspective. Lessons learned and observations made. http://news.yahoo.com/december-7.html
Amen! But, I imagine they rail, as we do, about the PC cancer affecting all the services.
But I think that they take comfort, as they hear each whoomwhoomwhoomof the blades revolving, that Sea Power is still a USN province, at least for now.
I read about a veteran who traveled to Hawaii this year for the 70th anniversary observances – who was there on that black, dark day. Ed Stone. A humble man with an incredible story to tell.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=jvYhQKn5hlE
That was only 70 years ago.
Hey Lex!
The film is completely embeddable and you can grab it off the snagfilms link!
Ross
So, I teach in Budapest, Hungary and checked out your website before class started. You were still sleeping, nothing posted about Pearl Harbor Day yet. On Pearl Harbor Day specifically, I look every year at your site for your post and wasn’t disappointed later in the day. I shared with my students a bit about the day, not much because I teach math and not history. My students are about on third American, one-third Hungarian, and one-third from all over. At any rate, thanks for sharing. I’m glad you are there sharing your thoughts.
sorry to nitpick, but it’s Isoroku Yamamoto
He’s, not it’s, and his name was Yamamoto Isoroku.
Quote from the news article on the end of the PH Assn (I haven’t worked out how to do italics yet):
“I was talking in a school two years ago, and I was being introduced by a male teacher, and he said, ‘Mr. Kerr will be talking about Pearl Harbor,’ ” Said Mr. Kerr. “And one of these little girls said, ‘Pearl Harbor? Who is she?’
I side with Joe’s opening comments on this one and feel very strongly about Remembrance. It is inevitable,obvious, natural that the veterans will physically disappear. They know that, just as sure as they didn’t know it would be their fate to become the living representatives of that Day of Infamy. It wasn’t their duty to remember each other for eternity, but they gladly made it their duty to remember them during as much of their lifetime as they could give – and God knows they’ve given. The duty of Remembrance always falls to others. My father told me of Heinkel 111′s bombing our home town, London, day and night, of the friends he lost, of how our home was half destroyed as part of another man’s campaign to bomb the will to resist out of the civilian population, Grandmother told of the brothers who fought in Greece and on the Normandy beaches, of the nephew in the RCAF. I’ve made sure my son and daughter knew of those acts which to them is of a time they can only picture in black and white. I’ll be sure and tell my grandchildren when the time comes. It’s a duty, isn’t it?
Thanks, Hogday. I don’t think that remembrance is a one way street though, look at the parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man. The Rich Man, in his torments in Hades, remembered his brothers still here on Earth, and wanted a warning sent to them.
Every Orthodox Christian funeral ends with a slowly chanted “Memory Eternal!”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5pLrOm4z1g
To do italics, less than sign, em, greater than sign at the start. At the end, less than sign, /em, greater than sign. Click on the button “You can use these HTML tags for more.
I meant to say “Every Eastern Orthodox funeral or memorial service ends with a slowly chanted “Memory Eternal” so we recall our friends and relatives who have fallen asleep. I’ve been to Serbian parishes in mid-June and there are still memorial services for those who died in the Battle of Kosovo which took place in 1398.
On that December morning my father was serving aboard U.S.S. Detroit. They were moored just on the other side of Ford Island.
Detroit was one of the “Treaty Cruisers” that resulted from politicians thinking that they could limit all future wars with words and promises and that, therefore, we would never again need a “real” Navy.
Detroit, unlike the battleships, was fortunate to get underway and clear the harbor that morning. She served throughout the war and was there in Tokyo Bay when Japan surrendered.
I wonder what my father would say today if he could see what the politicians are doing. I suspect that he would recognize too many things. And I know he would say “It isn’t the Navy I knew and served for thirty four years.”
Nevada did the underway thing too out of Ford Island. I got that book about the same time I got the Hadley Tank company book which, dammit, I loaned to a friend in Alameda and haven’t seen since. A killer book that gives itself away to friends.
One may read the wikipedia article on USS Nevada without regret. Hit with two atomic bombs and later sunk as a naval gunfire target. Built in 1912 but still my kind of warship.
gosh I must be some kind of evil with one after the other going into moderation.
This is the America I know, unlike whatever it is that infests our Government now.
I hope I can express my deep gratitude for all who served in WWII. You see, I was no where near being born. I cannot say I was a twinkle in my father’s eye for he was still in high school in 1941. My dad had 3 older brothers. And once my dad graduated HS in 1944 he joined the US Navy. So, as with most families of that era, my grandma’s only 4 children, all boys, served in WWII. Uncle Charlie was Army, Uncle Richard was Army Air Corps, Uncle Rusty was Marine and dad was Navy. I wish I knew more about my uncles and their services to the war. They all came home but Uncle Charlie was murdered in 1946 at the age of 29 (by the ‘boyfriend’ of Uncle Charlie’s own wife). Uncle Richard died from a horrid brain disease he contracted in the South Seas and also died at age 29 leaving behind a wife and no children. My uncle Rusty married in 1946 and he and my Aunt had 6 children. My dad met my mom for the first time when she was working as a soda jerk the day he was called home immediately to hear the news of his eldest brother. They met again though, obviously, and had 3 girls. I am the “baby”. My dad died in 1982. He was only 56. But my Uncle Rusty lived a long full life. He died in 2006, the same year my sister died. She was only 55. I miss them all. I never got to meet my two older uncles. I miss learning the history of their days serving. I wish I knew more about my dad days. Oh, I have some photos and his Navy diary which he wrote only a little in. I know the ship he served on but I know nothing about it, where it went, what it and it’s crew did. I can look at some of their photos and their gravestones but know not much about an important time in not only their history but our nation’s history. Yes those men were a part of this nation’s greatest generation. Those living now know why they are considered great, I hope. But I think and they must really be sad of the following generations. As far as WWII, they did their duty and I know if you ask them, they would do it again (as well as the women who served too). So, yes, I am truly grateful for their service and sacrifice. They knew what it meant to work hard for something. For anything. They didn’t ask for hand outs nor did they feel entitled to any. Even after all they went through. Thank you for fighting for our Freedom. God bless them all.
Kate,
Thank you.
Way way way more thanks to the ones that looked after our little girls when we were away. Mother’s are the key to life and I get to write my first email of my life that everyone can agree to. Hopefully.
Thank all of you and those like you.
Good email Curtis.
Never manned the rails; I was always down in #2 Engineroom, manning the throttles, Special Sea and Anchor Detail. But on the fifth and final visit Bainbridge made to Pearl with me aboard, I took the time out to take the tour to Arizona. I watched her weep.
Perhaps one day I can go back. Perhaps take my grandchildren. So I can teach them to never forget.
Aft was identical to fwd. My second and third class PO ran aft. My ENC and MRC were the two presentation EOOWS at OPPE. All of them were the best people in life to work with.
ARIZONA will weep, until the last crewmwmber has died, and gone to join her, or so the story goes.
An interesting op-ed piece.
A New Pearl Harbor in the Making?
Are we setting ourselves up for it again?
Marine 6, How is this for a touch of irony…I came into work (COMPACFLT) a little early this morning to put on my uniform and go over to have a cup of coffee at the BOQ. My real objective was to tell these precious few and their families Thank You on behalf of my family. As fate would have it, one of the men I spoke with this morning was on UTAH on December 7…he was later assigned to DETROIT and was subsequently in Tokyo Bay on September 2 with your father. I don’t know who you are but the Sailor I had coffe with this morning was a Shipmate with your dad…or maybe he was your dad!
Check out the photo Dr. Pournelle has posted for today.
I have a bone to pick with that NYT article. The author, Ira Stoll, continually references the more bellicose elements as the “right” or “right-wing”. That is a bit of political anthropomorphism by the author, and does nothing more than attempt to associate, in the mind of the reader, the ultra-nationalist, expansionist elements of Imperial Japan to our current political divide. He ends with this, with an implicit contrast: “He was one of the few Japanese leaders of his generation who found the moral courage to tell the truth — that waging war against the United States would invite a national catastrophe.” While that statement is undeniably true, it leaves the reader with the impression that the “right” was, and thus is, wrong in history.
Those of us who were in this world and conscious on December 7, Pearl Harbor Day will never forget it. My parents had driven my brother and I out into the wintry countryside around Milwaukee to have a Sunday dinner at a country inn much favored by families from town. We had the car radio on and suddenly there was a newscaster telling the story of the awful day and the dreadful destruction in faraway Hawaii. My brother, who was sixteen going on seventeen at the time, groaned and swore. My Dad and Mother were silent, looking at each other, recognizing that we as a country had to fight back, and that my brother would undoubtedly be called up. It was a grim finish to our Sunday drive. We were in for it now, we knew.
My brother was indeed called up by the draft later. He became an artilleryman and served in Europe and fought in the Battle of the Bulge. Luckily, he survived, but he came home with what we called ‘battle fatigue’ back then, and it took him many years to settle down to civilian life.
I met the first “love of my life” through Rex’s training at Ft. Bragg. He, Rex’s young friend, became a ski trooper and was killed on the slopes of Mt. Belvedere. We had many grievous losses in that war — a total of more than 151,000 men killed in combat with many more wounded as Sen Bob Dole was. We paid a heavy price in courageous young soldiers.
I always remember them on this day, these brave young men who bought and paid for our survival with their lives.
Remember — and give thanks. It’s the least we can do.
Marianne
Thankyou Marianne for your sacrifice as well. I cannot even imagine what that must have been like for you to lose the first love of your life the way you did. God bless you and yours.
My Great Uncle Larry started the War on a DD at Pearl Harbor on 7 December, and ended the war on the USS ANTIETAM, headed for Japan. My Dad’s cousin Francis was just out of Canoe U when the War began, and died on the ALBACORE 7 November 1944. My Uncle Darrell was in college, with NROTC, but finished the War as a F6F pilot, and the only other wartime serving member of the family was my Uncle Dan, who was Army, and lived through the Bulge. His tank had thrown a tire off of a road wheel. Of course, you don’t want to run a tank with a flat, as the rim of the roadwheel will chew up the track, so they got out of the Sherman, and headed for a nearby Belgian village, to try and find a field phone, so they could have someone bring them a replacement roadwheel. They entered from the west, and Jochiem Piper entered from the east, as it was the first day of the Bulge.
Uncle Dan spent the next month hiding in Belgian basements, and wound up getting trench foot so bad, thet he could not get his feet wet after that. Which was a pity, as his peacetime job was large animal vet, having qualified just before the war. So the effects go on long after the fighting stops.
My Pearl Harbor Day posting.
http://jmawelsh.blogspot.com/2011/12/07-dec-11.html