President Roosevelt referred to this day as a, "date which will live in infamy"...
We know now that the surprise was complete. We know now that the attacking planes came in two waves; the first hit its target at 7:53 AM, the second at 8:55...an hour later it was all over and by 1 pm the carriers that launched the planes from 274 miles off the coast of Oahu were heading back to Japan. We all know that the Japanese attack left behind 2,403 dead and a crippled Pacific Fleet. Last year I shared what visiting the memorial is like (read my 2009 post) but, this year I am compelled to pause and think about the sailors on that day...
The heartbeat of every ship ever to float is the crew. It was no different on this sunny morning but our ship's heart is beating restfully. Slipping the last, leftover dregs of the previous night's liberty call, most of the crew is still in their racks. Sunlight and tropical breezes filter through the open vents, hatches, and portholes; the strains of the national anthem can be heard drifting lightly across the harbor...some of our ships have already started to welcome the new day with morning colors. Hearing the drone of the airplane engines in the distance, sailors stuck swabbing the deck as part of their early watch duties likely turned their attention from the teak at their feet to the blue skies of Hawaii...wondering if it was the Army pilots or Naval aviators swooping down to shatter the stillness of an entire fleet resting at anchor. The thoughts of those on deck struggled to process what their disbelieving eyes noticed painted on the sides and wings of the aircraft...not the typical blue and white star and bars but a blood red meatball.
For the most part our shipmates below deck are still blissfully unaware. The truely lucky ones were shaken awake with a split second's advance notice as the clanging of the general quarters gong blaring over the ship's 1MC startled them. Mostly though, the first indication many sailors below decks had that the stillness of this Sunday morning was over was the jarring reality of an explosion. Those nearest the hatch had the best chance of getting topside to fight back. Sailors berthed deep in the bowels scamper to their feet after being thrown from their racks and are likely in a compartment that has been plunged into darkness. Whether you were topside or below decks all were greeted with the sight of twisted steel, flames, and unspeakable carnage; the sounds of their friends suffering as explosions continue to rip apart their home; the smells of battle choking their lungs...killing whatever last thoughts remain from last night's liberty.
Today's Navy doesn't forget. You be a part of a crew that steams into Pearl and and you can't help but think of what those shipmates went through that fateful morning. Today, more than any other day during the year, we pause and remember...
The Sunday morning that the stillness was destroyed.