Pearl Harbor Survivor Quotes

What happened on December 7, 1941, if it didn't kill us, changed us forever. President Roosevelt was right to call it "a date that will live in infamy." But for my fellow survivors and me, it also is alive in memory, like shrapnel left embeded in our brains because the surgeon thought it too dangerous to operate.

Lieutenant Haynes then gave us our diving assignments: dynamite the concrete quays that pinned the Tennessee against the West Virginia, and sound the hulls of the sunken ships to insure that no one was trapped within them. He indicated that the rescue of any possible survivors took precedence over every other operation.

Mullen used a careful and thorough search technique designed to locate any survivors on the remaining sunken ships. Beginning at the bow of the ship, the diver was lowered twenty feet under the water. At that point he hammered on the hull three times with a five-pound hammer. He then listened for a response. If there was none, he was moved in intervals of twenty-five feet and the procedure repeated until he finally reached the stern. Upon reaching the stern, the diver was lowered an additional twenty-five feet to the mud line, at which time he repeated the same sounding procedure until he reached the bow. Then the opposite side of the ship was covered in the same fashion.

Generally, the starboard sides of the ships were sounded first, since they suffered the least damage from bombs and torpedoes. We reasoned that if there were any survivors they would most likely be alive on the undamaged side. We also felt that the underwater sounds of our hammering would penetrate the ships hulls more effectively through an intact starboard hull.

We were disappointed that we had not been able to find any survivors on the sunken ships, but after six days of sounding, we were sure no one was alive within them. While our diving crews were occupied sounding the ships and freeing the USS Tennessee, the shipyard constructed two diving barges, each one twenty feet wide and thirty feet long. Buoyancy was provided by three cylindrical pontoons. Wooden planks formed the deck, while corrugated sheet metal on the roof provided protection from the elements. A long pipe spanned the upright stanchions along the side of one barge, which provided an area to hang the divers’ rubberized canvas dresses. Along the opposite side were hangers for the four sets of lifelines and air hoses. A large workbench was situated in the middle of the barge. Installed at one end was a wooden diving ladder that led down to the water four feet below. Next to the ladder was a table that held the diving telephone equipment. Four dressing stools were neatly stacked near the table.

year-old man in a matter of hours.”13 Moored alongside the West Virginia inboard to Ford Island, the Tennessee had taken two bomb hits from the high-altitude bombers of the first wave. Far more seriously, the Tennessee had been inundated by a wall of blazing oil and debris blowing onto its stern from the burning Arizona. The heat was intense, and fires started on the stern and port quarter of the ship. There were no thoughts about abandoning ship, but with his crew engaged in major firefighting efforts, the Tennessee’s captain tried to move his ship forward to escape the inferno astern. He signaled for all engines ahead five knots, but the Tennessee didn’t budge. The battleship was wedged too tightly against the quays by the stricken West Virginia. Nonetheless, its engines were kept turning throughout the day and long into the night so that the propeller wash would keep the burning oil from the Arizona away from its stern as well as the West Virginia. As it was, one of the Tennessee’s motor launches caught fire from the burning oil and sank as it tried to rescue survivors.

Since 1982, the Navy has allowed survivors from the Arizona to be interred there, along with a full military service. They can either have their ashes scattered over the wreck, or they can have their ashes put in an urn that a Navy diver will place in the barbette of the No. 2 turret.

It’s a shame it has been relegated to a junk heap in the Navy’s backyard. It carries so much history, yet it is cared for so little. December 2016 will likely be my last time to go back. I look forward to reuniting with several Pearl Harbor survivors at the anniversary, especially the other four survivors from the Arizona: Lauren Bruner, ninety-six, from La Mirada, California Lou Conter, ninety-five, from Grass Valley, California Lonnie Cook, ninety-five, from Morris, California Ken Potts, ninety-four, from Provo, Utah

As its decks emptied of the pitifully small number of survivors, the Arizona was not the only ship being abandoned. The West Virginia had sustained multiple torpedo hits as well as bomb blasts. With its captain dead on the bridge, the executive officer, Roscoe Hillenkoetter, gave the order to abandon ship without being in direct communication with damage control parties working to counter-flood the vessel and keep it from rolling over. The confusion was soon sorted out and the order countermanded, but in the interim, men went over the side.

As the shooting crackled all over Oahu, sooner or later someone was bound to get hurt. An elderly Japanese fisherman, Sutematsu Kida, his son Kiichi, and two others were killed by a patrol plane as their sampan passed Barbers Point, returning with the day’s catch. They had gone out before the attack and probably never knew there was a war. In Pearl Harbor itself, a machine gun on the California accidentally cut down two Utah survivors while they stood on the deck of the Argonne during one of the false alarms.

After the five Sullivan brothers were lost in November 1942, a long-standing misconception developed among the general public that the Navy absolutely forbid brothers from serving together and went to lengths to reassign them to other ships. This was never the case. Rather, a Bureau of Naval Personnel circular two full years after the Sullivan tragedy addressed the “Return to the United States of Sons of War-Depleted Families,” essentially a sole survivor policy. This recognized “the sacrifice and contribution made by a family which has lost two or more sons who were members of the armed forces and has only one surviving, and he is serving in the Navy, Marine Corps, or Coast Guard.” In that case, consideration would be given “to his return to, or retention in, the continental limits of the United States, except when he is engaged in nonhazardous duties overseas.” None of this was automatic, however, and applications for such return or retention to duty within the United States had to be filed by the sailor himself or his immediate family. Out of a sense of service, many men never took advantage of these provisions in the final year of the war.

While all Pearl Harbor survivors may have their ashes scattered over the harbor, only Arizona survivors may be interred on the ship. Urns are placed underwater in the well of the barbette for Turret No. 4.

Harvard educated Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, who was named Commander-in-Chief of the Japanese Combined Fleet in August 1939, came to see naval air power as a great equalizer. At first, he was against waging a war against the United States, knowing her people well. He had the firm belief that Japan was not able to win a war in any ordinary manner. He concluded that Japan must have a new air strategy that would demoralize not only the US Navy, but also the American people. He also believed that by destroying the American fleet that the US government would agree to let Japan rule the Pacific. As part of high command, the Naval Headquarters turned down the plan due to its high danger and risks. Yamamoto argued, stating, “Japan will certainly be beaten if we wage war, force to force. There is nothing we can do but crush their fighting spirit. I will resign from this post if my plan cannot be approved.” The chief of naval operations finally relented saying, “As Yamamoto will go that far, we will have to let him do it.” Japan’s