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From Primedia Publications
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Remembering the Day of Infamy
A haunting memorial recalls the Japanese attack on December 7, 1941, while a battleship commemorates the war's end.
By Joseph E. Stevens
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Commorating the attack on Pearl Harbor, the USS Arizona straddles the hull of the original battleship. |
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The view is fine from the lawn behind the USS Arizona Memorial Visitor Center. In the foreground, the placid waters of Pearl Harbor shimmer in the early morning sunlight. Beyond lies Ford Island, a low slab of coral fringed with coconut palms. On the horizon, fleecy clouds cling to the emerald ramparts of the Waianae Mountain range. It is a scene of beauty and tranquility—altogether incompatible with the harrowing images of death and destruction I associate with December 7, 1941, a date President Franklin D. Roosevelt said would "live in infamy."
I have come to Hawaii to visit the site of America's sudden, catastrophic entry into World War II. But on this balmy tropical morning, with a breeze rustling the palm fronds and the scent of ginger and hibiscus perfuming the air, it's hard to think about bombs, bullets and bloodshed. I need a catalyst—an evocative artifact or historically significant landmark—to help propel me into the past. At first nothing presents itself. Then, gazing out at the southeast shore of Ford Island, I spy a series of weathered concrete mooring quays, each with the name of a ship stenciled on its side: USS Nevada, USS Vestal, USS Arizona, USS West Virginia, USS Tennessee, USS Oklahoma, USS Maryland, USS Neosho, USS California—a roll call of the naval vessels berthed along "Battleship Row" that fateful Sunday almost sixty years ago.
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 | On this balmy tropical morning, with a breeze rustling the palm fronds and the scent of ginger and hibiscus perfuming the air, it's hard to think about bombs, bullets and bloodshed. | |
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Closing my eyes, I conjure up a picture of those massive warships as they must have looked moments before the bombs fell. Canvas awnings cover the decks where church services are about to be held. Sailors—mere boys, most of them—lounge around in shorts and skivvy shirts, recuperating from last night's shore leave. Work spaces (with the exception of the galleys where breakfast is being served) are quiet. Sailors man only a quarter of the antiaircraft batteries and control stations. It is a typical peacetime Sunday—a day of leisure or minimum duty.
Now the picture changes. In the sky above Ford Island, a stubby aircraft, silver and black with the red ball of the Rising Sun painted on its fuselage, noses over into a steep dive. A dark, cylindrical object detaches from its belly and plummets toward the ships and sailors. A searing flash, a black blossom of smoke, and the great divide between peace and war has been crossed; America and the world will never be the same.
My reverie is interrupted by an announcement over the public address system: my group is about to begin the Park Service's interpretive program and tour. Eager to learn more about the history of the Pearl Harbor attack, I head for the visitor center theater. A member of the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association gives a short talk, and we watch a 20-minute documentary film. Featuring authentic combat footage shot on December 7, 1941, it depicts the events of the air raid and describes the political and economic disputes that led up to the attack.
By the fall of 1941 relations between the United States and Japan had been strained to the breaking point. American economic sanctions aimed at forcing the Japanese Army to end its decade-old campaign of conquest in China had failed, and the island nation was now preparing to invade southeast Asia and seize the oil, rubber, and other raw materials it needed to fuel its war machine. Japan's military leaders knew their thrust into Malaya, Indochina and the Dutch East Indies would almost certainly provoke the United States to declare war. They decided to gain the upper hand by launching a surprise attack on the U.S. Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor. A 33-ship Japanese task force, including six aircraft carriers, set sail for the Hawaiian Islands on November 26. Maintaining strict radio silence and avoiding the usual trans-Pacific shipping lanes, the fleet steamed un-detected to a point 230 miles north of Oahu. At 6 a.m. on December 7, the first wave of fighters, bombers, and torpedo planes began winging south toward Pearl Harbor.
Joseph E. Stevens is the author of 1863: The Rebirth of a Nation and is currently writing a book about the first six months of American participation in World War II.
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