(The cover of Walter Lord’s landmark book).

December 7th, 1941, America was at peace. Onboard the grey ships in the harbor, Chaplains wakened early to get ready for holy services. Mess cooks rose to begin to cook masses of eggs, rashers of bacon, and vats of potatoes for the crews. It was Sunday, the day of rest. The sun was soft, as it is there in the most lovely of the Hawaiian islands. The breeze was gentle, and the palm fronds drifted in the warm breeze. The waters of the Harbor sparkled blue. Sailors who rose early walked on the decks of the mighty ships and admired the view of the Waianai Mountains to the west, and of the Ko’olau Mountains to the north and east.

The Sailors who were hurting from the results of trips to Hotel Street enjoyed the only morning of the week when the big loudspeakers didn’t crackle to life at 0600 demanding they “Shake down and trice up! Sweep down all major Passageways! Now commence Ship’s business!”

The mountains are volcanic icons above the water In the stillness of a Hawaiian Sunday morning. They are colored in brilliant greens and wreathed in thin coronae of clouds. There is a gap between the masses. It was through this gap that a watchful Sailor could hear the whine of aircraft engines, aircraft launched in the pre-dawn from Japanese aircraft carriers to the northwest of O’ahu. Holy services were in progress under the tropical awnings rigged on the sterns of the big ships. It was just past seven o’clock, and the world ended.

We appear to be in a period of international conflict now, in this year and the one to come. We should spare a thought to the Americans who are out there trying to do something positive in globe with weapons flyingWe lived in Navy housing on a little peninsula in Pearl Harbor a long time ago. From our lanai we could look directly down Battleship Row. We were in that little house for five years, including the birth of the kids. The last two years were on Ford Island. I took the motor launch or the ferry to go to work. There was always an Arizona moment pulling past the graceful white monument that now rests above her.

To the Americans who are out there today, and to all those who serve.
And there, in Pearl Harbor, is the first of it. And the last of it.

Copyright 2022 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com