12/7/41

I woke up at 6:00 a.m. that beautiful morning, like any other, completely unaware that my precious life would be put on the line only two tantalizing hours later. After I had gotten dressed into my freshly cleaned white uniform, I had eaten a good breakfast of chalky eggs, toast with margarine, as well as a glass of bitter, concentrated orange juice, while listening to Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy by The Andrews Sisters. I looked out the window of my shabby cabin to see that the glorious sun had glazed the harbor’s waters, and the clouds were completely erased from the bright blue sky. 

“I’d be givin’ this fine day a bum rap if I didn’t spend it with someone else,” I murmured to myself. So I casually put on my ratted shoes and started to the clinky, old radar station, where one of my only buddies in the navy was positioned for now. 

Arriving at the Oahu Radar Station, Earl was nowhere in sight, but all I had to do was call for him, and he came in a zip.

 “Heya, Dan!” he answered strangely as he clumsily fumbled around with his can of spam. “What brings you here bright and early?” he cautiously continued, still in a concerned voice. 

“Just wanted to swing by to share the wonderful mornin’ with my pal,” I remarked cheerfully. I slyly glanced over to the rickety equipment table where the mechanical clock read 7:12 a.m in bright green numbers. My wandering eyes also sneakily noticed a radar flashing bright red, then to a dull green. “What’s up with your little fella’ over there?” I asked inquiringly. He abruptly glanced over to where I was pointing and let out a sigh of relief. 

“I really had hoped that I could take care of this myself,” he grumpily muttered. Earl then lazily took me over to the dusty equipment table and showed me what it was. “This here radar has been sayin’ that it has picked up more than 200 planes to the northeast of the harbor.” My silly smile ran away from my face as his words stabbed me in my gut. 

“That machinery can’t be right; I think it’s time for you to pass the buck to the commander so he can figure out what is going on,” I cautioned. The worried look in his sad eyes didn’t seem to want to go anywhere after I mentioned this. “Where is the commander anyway?” I resumed. 

“He’s in a meeting currently with some other high-end officials,” Earl explained to me. “But he’ll be out shortly,” he added, trying to reassure me.

So we marched straight to the locked, ominous door of the radar station’s meeting room, and then we waited. It seemed cruel to be forced to wait to share information that could possibly save lives, or put them in danger. The disgusting thought made me queasy, although Earl and I had just hoped that it was only a malfunction in the radar system. It was almost like we were children in trouble for misbehaving. But after what seemed like the entire gorgeous morning, the officials finally came out of their hiding. We sought out the station commander nearly immediately. 

Earl had practically spat out everything he said. It was like he wasn’t speaking the same language as us, so I picked up from where he left off to try to explain it to the commander. 

        Once he heard what we had to say, he merely waved us aside. “There’s no reason to worry about this one, boys!” he boomed in a broad voice that shook the dim ceiling lights as he sauntered his way back to where the radar lay. “A practice flight of the U.S. Army Air Corps planes was scheduled for today, so there’s nothing to bust your cap over,” he reassured us. This being said, Earl nearly fell to the ground with a relieved smirk over his dopey face.

So I then headed back to my position, leaving Earl with a terse farewell. Once I had reached the docked fleet, I headed straight for the admirable Utah, where a few other men were meandering around; it was a fairly calm morning, so they had reason to. Although, this didn’t stop me from getting right to my duties. I went straight for the rusted pale of water and the mop leaning against the frame of the gleaming deck. My jobs weren’t the most important for the ship, but I treated them like they were the most significant job of any Navy member. 
     With my mindset, it didn’t take long to finish the job. Then I went to check below the deck to make sure every little thing was in order, which it had been. 

I now had some free time, so I went back up to the deck (where the men were still having a jolly time) to enjoy the cool breeze and the bright sky. I glanced over at the men, then to my watch, which read 7:47 a.m., then back to the men, and finally to the clear blue sky. And I saw something peculiar up there. In a daze, I was staring at the U.S. Army Air Corps planes, which were doing their practice flight as Earl and I had been told. But there was something strange about these planes, and they didn’t entirely look like U.S. aircraft. One of the men on the ship noticed that I was staring at them. 

“Why so tense buddy, loosen up!” he sneered. I simply glanced at him, then back to the planes. And then it dawned on me, that those planes weren’t U.S. aircraft in the slightest. I ran over to the other men and told them what I had seen in a rush, stumbling over my own words. But the foolish men didn’t think twice of it as I was just a new member and a probably a little jumpy. I jolted off the ship, infuriated that they dismissed me with a snap of their procrastinating fingers. But I had realized too late and couldn’t go to anyone else in the Harbor. 

The planes were hovering over the docked fleet as I screamed for the men to get off the ship if they valued their lives. They all rolled their eyes and one replied, “And if we don’t, what’s gonna happen to us, you’ve just gone and snapped your cap, haven’t you?” 

And it turns out that the Utah was one of the first to go, along with the three men. The attack had begun without anyone knowing that the Japanese were even in the harbor. It was pure chaos brought from the depths of hell itself. Men and women were caterwauling with horror for their very own lives as a 1.769-ton bomb dropped from a Japanese plane and crashed through the deck of the ship, killing greater than 1,100 members on board. 

I was running around like a chicken without its head, trying to salvage everything and everyone I could. I turned to look at my watch, now cracked and covered with dirt; it read 8:07. Only 12 minutes into the attack and more than five battleships were sunk. I stared at the blood-red sky filled with smoke and debris as some men in jets tried to fend off the attack, but it was no use. They had destroyed more than 188 of our aircraft and only seven were fit to fly. Men were jumping off of the Nevada and into the now black, boiling oil and water of the harbor as the ship was hit by seven, or maybe even eight torpedoes at once. However, she was still standing through the attack. 

The raid came to an end all at once as my busted watch now read 8:50 a.m. But the tension was still high as I ran around with other members, trying to rescue those who were injured. One of the men rushed into the dull, murky water, claiming to see a man lying face down in the water. “I found someone!” he exclaimed as we all huddled to look. As the man turned him over to pull him out of the water, we realized that the entire front part of his skull was missing, and we were too late. However, I did glance a little way across the harbor to see a man clutching his stomach still moving on the blood-stained ground. 

“Thank you! Truly, thank you,” he stammered in a fragile voice as I tried to pull him up by his arm. I handed him over to the rest of the crew to be taken care of as I searched for others who could be saved. 
It wasn’t long until the second wave of planes came to finish us off. They came straight for what they had missed before. The Nevada. She stood strong in the first round but was pushed over with the simple gusts off their horrid wings. Their mission was to finish off the entire fleet, and that was what they got.
     The USS Pennsylvania went down without a fight, alike to the USS Shaw, which split into two pieces after being hurled with bombs. The planes started to run out of things to destroy by 9:45 a.m. And they were gone before we even had a chance to fight back. The only thing left untouched in that harbor were the oil facilities.

Dan Wissick 

12/8/41 

It is now one day after the Japanese raided Pearl Harbor, only a few lives could be reclaimed, most were lost to the attack, and some even claimed their very own lives over their own grief. There’s been a short and sweet funeral held by the commanders and officers for every fallen member. Our own black suits are crying with the tears of the dull, gray sky. Those who can move onto the next grave, to mourn their companion, friend, or loved one. The processions are still being held for those who can bear the misery and anguish, for not one person in the entire harbor had even known it was coming. And when it did, nobody even knew it was there to begin with. But as for me, I’ll stay here next to the polished marble grave of Earl Bennett, a single freshly picked peony on top of where he lay. 

Here lies a companion, friend, and a loved one, 

whose time ran short without even preparing a goodbye

Died: December 7th, 1941 

Dan Wissick 

-Will Parsons