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Editor's Note: The following recollections are taken from the World War II History Round table held in December at the Ft. Snelling History Center.
By Al Zdon
Sunday morning, Dec. 7, 1941,
began like many other mornings for most Americans. For a few Minnesotans stationed at or near Pearl Harbor on the island of Oahu, Hawaii, that morning quickly changed from peace and quiet to a scene of smoke, fire
and death. "I got up early that morning to go get a newspaper to read in bed. I was back at my tent and in the sack by 7:55," recalled Platt Walker, an army private stationed at Fort Kameha Meha, a coastal
artillery base adjacent to Hickam Field. "I heard the sound of aircraft, but that wasn't unusual," he said. When the explosions began, though, Walker leapt out of bed. "I lifted the tent sheet and looked at
Hickam Field. You could see billows of smoke rising from the hangar and the parked airplanes on the field. Up in the sky, there were dozens of aircraft all in beautiful formation. They all had that red ball on them.
There were just hundreds of planes." His tent mates were waking up at that point and wondering what the commotion was. Walker, already dressed, lit out for the supply room where the unit's weapons were stored.
"I asked the guy in charge to unlock the door, but he refused. He said no arms could be issued without permission of the officer." A few well placed kicks on the storeroom door solved that problem, and Walker
began passing out the rifles to the men. The weapons were World War I bolt action rifles, but they were better than nothing. "There was this sudden feeling of terror as we loaded our rifles for war," Walker
recalled. Outside, the men had to dive under the barracks for cover as the Japanese planes strafed the fort. When they emerged and began firing back the fear was replaced by "an intense calm." "The men were in
good spirits, there was sharp humor and wisecracks all up and down. They said we should lead the Japanese planes, just like shooting ducks and geese. It was the first time I witnessed the camaraderie that men feel
when they are fighting for their lives." Walker headed back to his tent to find his battery-powered radio to try and find out what was happening. While there, a Japanese Zero crashed into a loading dock across
the street, and Walker protected himself from the explosion of smoke and debris. "I approached the Zero slowly, and I could see that the pilot was slumped forward. I threw the body back, and I could see the
white, silk scarf. The pilot was very dead, and blood was oozing out of his chest." Walker turned his attention to two ordnance men who had been on the loading dock and were tangled in the wreckage. One of them
called for Walker's help. "He asked me for a cigarette, and I gave him one of my Lucky Strikes. I lit it up for him and told him I'd get help. I ran all the way to the post hospital. It was a scene of total
chaos." After some time, Walker was able to get a medic and lead him back to the wounded men. Walker's unit was moved that day into the surrounding foothills to prepare for a possible invasion. The next day
dawned as peacefully at the day before. "Smoke was still rising from Pearl Harbor, and there was a strange quiet over everything. It was a beautiful morning."
For Bill Goff, stationed on board the USS
Tennessee, Sunday morning was a chance to go out and play some catch with his brother who was stationed on another ship. "We had been to a dance the night before, and I'd gotten back about midnight. I was taking a
shower and getting ready to go meet my brother." Having all the battleships lined up was somewhat unusual, Goff recalls. Most of the time, at least half the battle wagons were at sea. "I'd been in the Navy for
three years at that point, and that's the first time I recall the whole fleet being in port." The Tennessee was docked along Battleship Row on the inboard position. The West Virginia was tied to the Tennessee
with its side exposed to the harbor. "The first torpedo hit the West Virginia, and it shook our ship. I looked out a porthole, and I could see a geyser of water spouting up." Goff's job during battle stations
was to load powder at one of the battleship's massive 14-inch guns. The guns were useless, though, to an air attack, and after about five minutes Goff was ordered to get one of the ship's boats away to rescue the
men in the water. "The Japanese were machine gunning the harbor, strafing the men in the water." Before the boat could be launched, though, it caught fire. Oil was ablaze at the rear of the ship, and began to do
damage to the Tennessee. Goff retreated back to his battle station at the 14-inch gun. "A 500-lb. bomb hit right on top of the gun, and split the barrel all the way down. I was deaf for two days, but it was the
only injury I got." Meanwhile, six or seven torpedoes had hit the West Virginia by that time, and the ship had begun turn over. Only her mooring to the Tennessee kept her afloat. In the end, both the Tennessee
and West Virginia were repaired and lived to fight again. It took Goff four or five days, but he did find his brother.
Gordon Eue served as a sea-going Marine on the USS Pennsylvania, at that time located
across the harbor in the dry dock. "I was waiting for the church services to begin at 8 a.m. They had ordered that the smoking lamp was out." Eue and the others noticed the planes heading toward the harbor,
and then someone said, "Gee, they've got red spots on them." With "battle stations" sounded, Eue moved to his position on a five-inch gun. "There wasn't much we could do. A broadside doesn't do much good against
aircraft." Still, the gun crew wanted to do something against the attack all around them, and they had powder for the gun brought up. An officer quickly intervened, however, and had the powder sent back below.
Eue witnessed one of the huge battleships roll over, but his eye-witness account ends about 20 minutes after the attack began. "A bomb hit the base of the gun. It pretty much knocked me out."
Eue was severely wounded with shrapnel.
Orville Ethier was part of a crew of Minnesota reservists who had been called up to man the USS Ward, a World War II four-stacker destroyer that was cruising the
entrance to Pearl Harbor. The ship had just received a new captain and the crew hoped to be in port for some days, but another ship was in need of repairs and the Ward was sent right back to sea. At about 4
a.m. on December 7th, the crew was called to general quarters because another ship had spotted a periscope heading toward the harbor. The Ward was unable to find it, and the crew went back to bed. At 7 a.m., the
crew again was called to general quarters because a periscope had been sighted. "I can tell you that we were bitching a little about our new skipper," Ethier said. This was no false alarm, though, and the new
captain had to make a quick decision on whether to attack. This was still an hour before the air attack began. "Whatever we thought of our new skipper, the man could make a decision. He took one look through his
field glasses and said, 'Load those guns.'" The first gun to fire missed, but the next gun hit the conning tower of the sub and it began to go down. The Ward raced over to the spot and dropped four depth charges
on the midget submarine. Both the Ward and a PBY who observed the encounter reported to Naval command about the sinking of the sub. "If they had listened to our warnings, it wouldn't have stopped the attack, but
we might have been able to make a little better showing." The gun that sank the sub is now on display at the Minnesota Capitol grounds.
Dr. Norm Sterrie eventually earned three Navy Crosses as a carrier
pilot during the war, and on the morning of December 7th he was aboard the USS Lexington heading for Midway Island It has long been considered an extraordinary stroke of fortune or planning that none of the three
Pacific carriers were in port at Pearl Harbor on that day. Sterrie recalled how poorly the U.S. was prepared for war, and said that even in the year before the attack on Pearl, the carriers still carried
fabric-covered bi-planes on their decks. Sterrie flew the TBD Devastator torpedo bomber, which had a top speed of just over 100 miles per hour -- and less when fully loaded. "It was a beautiful ship, but not for
that war." The pilots had been ordered to ready-alert status and were sitting in their planes on the carrier's deck for four-hour shifts. When word came of the attack, the commander announced, "The Japanese have
just hit Pearl Harbor. We're switching to live ammo." The Lexington, however went south rather than north where it was thought the Japanese fleet was located. "It would have been one carrier against six, and we
wouldn't have stood a chance." It was indeed fortunate the Lex was not at Pearl, Sterrie said. "We'd had no drills, poor training and poor communications. If we had been in port, we'd have never survived."
Bob Carlson served aboard the USS Oklahoma. "I was a frustrated musician trying to change rates to become an electrician." Carlson and the others were topside as colors were presented when the first torpedo hit
the Oklahoma. "We broke ranks immediately, heading for our battle stations." Even after the first torpedo, Carlson said, the ship was listing in the water. In quick succession, five more hit the Oklahoma. "We
were preparing for an admin inspection and all our spaces were open. We had no watertight integrity. The first torpedo was enough, and the second torpedo finished her off. I think she took about a dozen before it
was over." The ship began to heel over and the men were ordered to abandon ship. Carlson dove in the water and swam over to the neighboring USS Maryland. When the attack was over, only part of the hull was
sticking out of the water. Figuring that men might be trapped, the sailors set to work with acetylene torches to cut a hole in the thick metal. "When we got through, there were two men there, but they were both
dead. The oxygen had been sucked out by the torch. Then we went at it with pneumatic hammers, and you can imagine how long that took. In the end, we took 32 people out of the bow of the ship, but we left 429 behind."
The ship was refloated over the next weeks, and was being towed back to the United States when it went down. "She just decided she wasn't going to be cut up for razor blades with all those brave souls aboard."
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