December 7th and the March of History

 

USS Decatur renders honors to the USS Arizona

December 7th, 2023

"We in the present are the keepers and custodians of the past.

It is our responsibility to convey those memories into the future."

--Ralph Couey

Copyright © 2023

by Ralph F. Couey

December 7th, 1941, a day which President Roosevelt called "a day which will live in infamy" is one of those dates on a calendar which are deeply meaningful.  For most of the current generations, September 11th, 2001 is the point that divided "before" from "after" in their lives.  Both dates mark a moment when the world changed, and as a result, lives changed as well.

William Gibson once wrote, "Time moves in one direction, memory in another."  For people who were alive and aware when a particular event took place, the feelings generated at that time keep remembrances fresh.  The emotions, whether ecstatic or devastating, remain fixed in the mind and the heart.  For new generations,  those events are history, remembered in a colder, passionless manner.  The old saw, "You had to be there" applies.  If a person did not experience such an event, they will not feel the same impact.  And in that transition, the impact and meaning of those life-changing moments is lost.

Each generation lives within the bubble that envelops the span of their lives.  When great events happen, we experience those moments in a personal way, how it affected us, our family and friends, even the smaller world immediately around us.  As I alluded to in my quote above, it is our responsibility to pass those experiences to the next generations.  It is not only important that they know that events like 9/11 and December 7th happened, but how it felt to us.  It is those feelings that help to convey the import the meaning of those events into the future, ensuring they will never be forgotten.

The world of 1941 was in transition.  The Great Depression, and the Dust Bowl had passed and a measure of prosperity had returned.  Just as the moment arrived when Americans could take a breath, the world came hunting for us.  Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan were nations with global ambitions.  Even though America was still recovering, both governments knew that the road to world domination was blocked by the United States.  Americans, however, were slow to that realization.  The population was deeply and passionately divided between "America Firsters" and "Interventionists."  The memory of the Great War, which we know as World War I, was fresh in their minds, the terrible trap of intertwining alliances.  Europe's conflicts were Europe's business, not ours.  We were still recovering from the Depression.  Jobs were coming back as industry began to accelerate, but the national mood after years of looking inward at our own problems was not prepared to accept the global responsibilities history was about to inflict.  This national desire to remain at peace within our own borders likely had a key effect on the ability of the government and the military to anticipate the full capabilities and intent of our enemies.

I have spent most of my lifetime reading and researching how World War II came about.  I've studied both the mainstream accounts and all the revisionists.  My conclusion is that there is not a shred of factual proof that the Roosevelt administration conspired to allow Japan to attack us.  What is abundantly clear is that everyone was so desperate to hang on to the illusion of peace, that they refused to entertain the worst possibility.  After the military leadership issued the War Warning of November 27, 1941, a kind of miasma overtook the whole structure.  Common sense would have dictated that Pearl Harbor would be a primary target.  But by December 7th, air and sea patrols were restricted to the local areas.  The threat was assumed to be local sabotage by the sizeable Japanese-American populace in Hawai'i.  This was pure racism, as history has proven that not one person of that group ever committed a treasonous or disloyal act.  The ships in the harbor were at their lowest state of readiness.  All the aircraft, instead of being kept in bunkers and revetments, were lined up in the open, wingtip to wingtip.  Out in the Philippines, which was even more vulnerable, 9 hours after the attack on Pearl had been reported and confirmed, MacArthur's aircraft were still grounded and vulnerable.  His troops, rather than deployed to obvious threat points, were in barracks.  It was if the entire American political-military structure, and the population as well, had all closed their eyes in fervent illusion while the enemy crept up behind them.  

As the Japanese carrier task force steamed into launch position north of O'ahu, negotiations were still going on, at least that's what we believed.  Japan sent a 14-part message to its embassy in Washington to be delivered to the American government that Sunday at 1:00 pm, 7:30 am in Hawai'i.  A lot of people have fixated on this message as definitive proof that the attack on Pearl Harbor was imminent.  The truth is that the message did not mention military action at all, least of all the location of any attack.  The operational paragraph stated:

"The Japanese Government regrets to have to notify hereby the American Government

that in view of the attitude of the American Government

it cannot but consider that it is impossible to reach an agreement 

through further negotiations."

While dire, this did not amount to a declaration of war, only that unless the American government altered its terms, there would be no further negotiations.

Dawn broke that day over the Pacific Fleet as it lay moored and anchored in Pearl Harbor.  The oncoming duty sections were beginning to stir in preparation for relieving the watch.  Most of the rest of the ship's crews were sleeping off the usual alcohol-fueled Saturday night liberty in Honolulu.  At 7:48 am, Japanese carrier aircraft began diving and strafing ships and the shore facilities.  The first bomb fell on Ford Island near the seaplane hangers.  The sailors, soldiers and Marines there who had experienced only peace discovered the sudden and ugly fear and violence of war.  Although the shock and surprise was total, the men sprang to their duty without hesitation.  The world-changing message, "Air Raid, Pearl Harbor.  This is no drill" was sent out at 7:58 am.  After ammunition lockers were broken into and the guns manned, the ships responded with heavy anti-aircraft fire.  Japanese pilots were amazed at how quickly those bursts filled the sky.  But the attack continued.  By just 8:10 am, 20 minutes into the fight, Arizona had blown up, Oklahoma was capsized, and several other battleships had been hit by torpedoes and bombs and were sinking into the mud.  I recount these events not to delineate a definitive timeline, but rather how quickly the world had changed.

By the end of the attack, 2,403 American servicemen were dead.  Thousands more were wounded.  But the greater wound was upon the American conscience.  Japan's message to the US Government was intended to be delivered before the attack.  But delays caused by transmission of the message and production of the formal document delayed the delivery of the message to our government until well after the attack commenced.  President Roosevelt in his December 8th address to Congress, called it "a date which will live in infamy."  The infamy referred to the fact that there was no formal declaration of war before Japan attacked.  The real infamy, however, was that we as a government, a military, and a people were simply not ready, or more accurately, refused to accept the danger of the moment and act on that danger.

Pearl Harbor today is still an important operational base.  While the number of ships home-ported here has shrunk, its place in Pacific geography is vital to our national defense.   Burke-class destroyers lay moored along piers and in the shipyard.  Subs are tied alongside piers on their side of the harbor. But from the purview of a visitor, it is a quiet place.  As the sun rises, the water is calm, almost glassy.  The trade winds will come later, riffling the water with small waves.  Military and civilians drive into work, much like anyplace else.  The ship's crews are busy, engaged in those necessary tasks before the work day begins.  

At 8:00, a bugle sounds across the harbor and everywhere, men and women stop and salute as the American flags are hoisted all over the base while a recording of the National Anthem is played.  For me when I wore the uniform, and even now it is a time when I reflect upon why I served; the importance of what we did.

Visitors have arrived by the hundreds, some lining up for the boat ride over to the USS Arizona Memorial.  Others have boarded busses, taking them across the Ford Island causeway to visit the Air Museum and the USS Missouri Memorial.  They have come to touch a piece of history, to make it personal for them.  Veterans, some hobbled by age, come aboard, their eyes revealing the emotion of being aboard.  We tell them the story of the ship and her place in history.  They are amazed at the ship's size and the power of her considerable armaments.  They are happy to be there, and their enthusiasm is apparent.  

For me, I've never felt more the responsibility for my part in sharing the story of the ship, that remarkable day the war finally ended, and the very personal story of the Kamikaze pilot who expended his life on the Missouri in 1945.  I have embraced my role as a keeper of the past and my mission to pass that story on.  It is not just my job to do this.

It is also my honor.