December 7th 1941

I have had this story in mind for awhile now. At work I had the occasion to speak to a man that was actually at Pearl Harbor on December 7th 1941. I spent about an hour with this individual and he told me his Pearl Harbor story. My Dad is a veteran of World War II and because of that I have always had an interest in this time period. So I would like to tell this man's story on this blog for no other reason than I was amazed by it and I think you may be as well. Allow me to tell it first person and understand, I never got his name, but I believe his story to be true.



My job when I was stationed at Pearl was to ferry men to and from their ships so they could go on leave, visit town etc.

On that Sunday morning I arrived at the docks and started my boat up. The morning was clear and bright and promised to be another beautiful day at Pearl. We always appreciated being stationed here because it was kind of like heaven.

I was in the middle of a run out to the Oklahoma when all hell broke loose. Planes started tearing in and the sound of these planes in dives filled the air. There were so many bullets ripping into the water, that it was constantly foamed. It looked like the sea had turned white and we were right in the middle of it. I was ordered to return to the docks and drop off the men I had on board and then head back to the harbor to pick up men that had fallen or jumped into the sea from stricken ships.

As I made my first run into the middle of this madness I had to stop and pull men into the boat from both sides. While I was stopped, bullets shredded the gunwells and it made it feel like you were a sitting duck. After I got the first few into the boat, they were able to haul others in while I drove the boat inside the harbor. One of the men yelled "look out" and pointed off to my right. We were on the lee side of battle ship row and a torpedo bomber had dropped his fish and it was headed right at us. There was nothing to be done and I watched as it's stream of bubbles headed at my starboard side. As it was about to hit we all just closed our eyes and waited. The fish was apparently too low in the water and passed right under my keel. When there was no explosion we looked left and watched the torpedo head at the nearest ship. The explosion was deafening and the water burst nearly sent us over.

When I had collected all the men I could find, we ran into the Sub docks and I dropped off that load of boys. A few stayed with me and we ran back out into the bay and loaded up again.
All this time the attack was constant and my boat took a pretty bad beating.

At the end of the time we had managed to pull quite a few men from the water and all the men we got into the boat survived that terrible day.

Now it's one thing to be there, but to be able to be this brave makes me wonder how many of us could have done this job on a day like that. I find it nearly beyond comprehension.
I was proud to be able to shake this man's hand and I thanked him for his service to our country.
I wish I had his name, but his story as I was told it is at least set down.
He was so proud that all of his boys survived as well he should be. When I asked how many trips he took out into the bay, his response was "I ran back and forth all day until we had picked up all the survivors, of course I was only getting shot at for the first part"

Brave and humble I think that's something we have lost.