Commentary
My great-grandfather used to tell stories about that tragic day at Pearl Harbor. He and his brother were running up and down a pier, looking for each other, one running right by the other amid confusion as Japanese fighter planes strafed and bombed the Navy ships docked there.
Flames billowed from ships, the fatally crippled tilting and beginning their slow descent to the ocean floor. Men tried dousing oily flames with water, only to spread the inferno further across the ships. Metal melted under billowing black clouds as infernal yells and explosions filled the air.
It was utter chaos. Most of the men (and women) that day didn’t realize they were under attack until the first bombs went off. Even after the realization set in, many didn’t know who the perpetrators were; even less did they understand why.
It began as just another beautiful day in Hawaii. Sailors dressed in their white uniforms, waiting for boats to taxi them ashore to attend Sunday church services. Others were just getting their day started in what was otherwise a lazy deployment in paradise.
Yet the reality and mounting tensions of the world abroad found its way in, through the Japanese sneak attack that would inevitably plunge the United States into a war against both the Japanese empire and the Nazi regime.
Although he served in both WWI and WWII, my great-grandfather, Guerilimo Dario, would cry when he talked about what happened at Pearl Harbor. He was the chief steward of Fleet Admiral Ernest King, chief of naval operations, and commander in chief of the U.S. Fleet throughout WWII.
When the attack began, he was assigned to a cruiser, which he and a group of men managed to steer out of the harbor. The Japanese tried to sink a ship across the mouth of the harbor to block everyone in, but failed, and the cruiser made it through.
Yet as the attack continued, Dario set off to find his brother, stationed near the doomed USS Arizona. As he approached, it seemed everything was on fire, as guns returned fire on the attacking Japanese planes. Beneath the water, the Japanese also deployed small submarines, which were launching torpedoes at the ships.
Dario made it to a pier near the sinking remains of the Arizona, calling out his brother’s name. They found each other, eventually. The partial remains of the dock are still there, near the memorial above the now rusted graveyard of nearly 1,200 officers and crewmen the Arizona brought with it to the ocean floor.
The flames burned into the night. Teams set out to rescue men standing on the upturned hulls of sinking ships. Within the two-hour attack, every ship in the harbor was sunk or damaged, and by day’s end, more than 2,400 lives were lost. The Japanese lost 29 planes and 5 submarines.
A memorial service was held Dec. 7 near the memorial at Pearl Harbor, marking the 70th anniversary of the day President Franklin Roosevelt said would live in infamy.
Surviving veterans of Pearl Harbor gathered with their families for the service. My great-grandfather wasn’t there, having passed away several years back. The service was aired live through the Department of Defense website.
Throughout the speeches, many veterans gazed downward in thought. Some fought back tears. There is a place where trumpets fade, that only those who were there seem to recall in quiet understanding with one-another—a place of friends lost with time, and memories that are held in painful knowledge that “He who forgets history will live it again,” as was spoken by Mal Middlesworth, former president of the National Pearl Harbor Survivors Association, during the service, in the live video feed.
“We gather here today to commemorate the 70th anniversary of one of the most significant events of the 20th century. We do this best by honoring all who gave their lives, on all of the military bases on the island of Oahu, that Sunday. Not just Pearl Harbor,” said Middlesworth.
“The day of infamy united our country as never before. The country rallied around the slogan, ‘Remember Pearl Harbor,’” he said.
