by Kimberly A. Cook (Twitter@ WarriorTales)
The first war story I recorded for a 1976 school project belonged to John Watson, my brother-in-law’s great-uncle. He worked as a shipyard worker in Pearl Harbor for the U.S. Navy. He was laying in bed on his first day off in thirteen weeks. He and his roommate, Lonnie, heard a lot of firing. They thought it might be practice firing, but it didn’t sound right. They turned on the radio.
“All workmen return to Pearl Harbor immediately, Japs are firing on us,” came across the radio waves. The two men made it to Pearl Harbor thirty minutes later and went through the main gate just as the second wave of Japanese fighters were coming over. “I don’t think they ever caught up with me though,” Johnny joked.
An electrician, Johnny got “juice” on the heavy cruiser San Francisco so she could fire her guns. Her anti-aircraft “one point pom poms” were on the dock so the rigger swung them aboard and they welded them to the deck. She was firing in 20 minutes. “By manual, manual firing them,” he said.
“I’ll admit there were no stops on them and she practically cut one stack off following them planes around. We were firing right towards Honolulu. I had a lot up in the valley I was ready to build a new house on and a 16-inch shell took that lot off the hillside; we found fragments of it,” he said.
“They were firing at anything going away, coming or anything else with anything that would fire. Like I told ya, we fired 16-inch guns at airplanes.”
Last year on the 70th Anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor, the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association voted to disband their corporate association on Dec. 31, 2011. The travel is challenging for those in their late 80s and early 90s. The memories are still strong and painful. The challenge for the National Park Service now is how to transition their mission to keep the memories and the sacrifice alive and relevant to future generations.
Education and stories are the key for me. Uncle Johnny’s story became my first official war story to record. That one encounter started me on a lifelong journey as a writer, veteran and military storyteller. For those of us left behind, we must now step up and tell the stories to new generations for those who have gone before. This Friday, December 7th, remember Uncle Johnny and all the men, women, children and civilians we lost on that day in Honolulu and since.
Freedom isn’t free.
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