Stephen Wagner - Ordinary Heroes: Untold Stories of World War II

I didnt know there was a war going on... the Utah was upside down. I knew it was the bottom of a ship, but why would a ship be upside down? Then I heard machine gun fire from the planes... Jap planes with the red ball...

Lyle Koenig, Pearl Harbor, 1941

Dawn broke upon the island in its usual way. At half past six a glimmer of light shone on the horizon, glinting in the Pacific waves and creeping skyward. As minutes ticked by, the golden morning climbed higher and higher, tracing the hilly green contours of sleeping volcanoes and greeting the wide blue sky. And in the valleys below, slumbering in the shadows of cloud-tipped peaks, citizens and soldiers dreamed quietly. It was the start of a beautiful day, and by all accounts a perfectly ordinary Sunday in Honolulu.

Lew Carter rolled over in his bunk and glanced sleepily at the clock. Time to get up. He stretched and gave a great yawn, tossing his blanket aside and swinging his feet down to the floor. As he sat rubbing sleep from his eyes, the familiar sense of alertness began to return. Being company bugler had its perks, but the privilege of rising before everyone else certainly wasnt one of them. Just as hed done every day for months, Lew threw on his army uniform, grabbed his bugle, and stepped outside into the morning light. The day had only begun but already the Hawaiian air was fresh and clear. Even in December it was comfortable here.

Punctual as always, Lew arrived near the center of Schofield Barracks and checked his watch. Half past seven, on the dot. Wetting his lips, he raised the bugle and blew reveille. The notes were crisp in the quiet air. It was always a bit startling, but he felt a certain satisfaction in hearing the brassy tune pierce the morning calm. It was his wakeup call to the base, but the music was also his own markhis little imprint upon the lives of his fellow soldiers. It made him feel proud.

Lew inhaled deeply and started back for the barracks, savoring the quiet as he walked. The gentle breeze, the singing birds; it almost reminded him of home. But Hawaii was far from Pennsylvania, and Pearl Harbor was nothing like Birdsboro, really. There were no military bases, no palm trees, and certainly no battleships where he lived. The people were just as friendly, though, so maybe it wasnt that different after all. Almost five thousand miles away and it still felt familiar. With this in his mind, he put on a smile and thought about his family. He wondered how the Army was treating his brother.

At six minutes to eight, Lew returned to the reveille spot with bugle in hand. Most of the base was awake by now, and a general bustle of movement and voices could be heard in every direction. With an eye on his watch, he counted down to seven fifty five. Three, two, one Chow call, unlike reveille, was a much welcome sound. Hungry soldiers emerged from the barracks around him as a testament to this fact. A rumbling from his belly urged him to join the herd at breakfast, so he took a step in the direction of the mess hall. But something stopped him cold.

Gunfire. He could hear it on the horizon, erupting from somewhere up the valley. Staccato cracks pierced the air, drawing closer and closer until he saw what was happening. There were planes in the sky, screaming towards him in a fearsome swarm. Bugle dangling at his side, Lew turned and looked helplessly as they overtook the base in a flash. They came in low over the barracks, weapons flickering madly as tracers sliced through the air above his head. He was stunned. Frozen in place, he watched as a pair of fighters skimmed the two story building he called home. They were so low he could see the pilots eyes and teeth. And he could see the fearsome emblem they borethe fiery red rising sun. Bombs fell and guns crackled. Soldiers sprinted across the base in a frenzy of motion. But Lew remained still. His world had been shatteredthrown into chaos in the span of an instant. Time seemed to crawl as the fighting escalated around him. Only when a bomb landed nearby was he jarred back to attention. He turned, shaken, and saw the motor pool burning, belching dark smoke skyward. It was incredible. It was insane. Yet it was happening. The Japanese were attacking Pearl Harbor.

***

Not far offshore, the destroyer USS Tucker sat sleeping at anchor in the East Loch. In its belly, George Hatza was relaxing in his bunk with a newspaper. But a sound from the corridor outside grabbed his attention. Craning his neck, he saw a flicker of movement as a boatswains mate sprinted past the door to his quarters in the aft section of the ship.

Japanese air attack! Japanese air attack! This is not a drill! The man sounded frantic.

George bolted upright. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

What the hell are they doing, he muttered, Dont tell me theyre having maneuvers on Sunday.

Most of the Tuckers crew was still asleep, enjoying their well-earned day of rest. Right now they were scattered about the ship, lounging in their bunks or relaxing somewhere. How could there be a drill? It didnt make sense, but it was his job to respond. So he dropped his wrinkled newspaper and looked at the ceiling with a furrowed brow. Is that gunfire? It couldnt be. There, again! It was unmistakable. Someone was firing up on deck; the crack of a fifty caliber machine gun rattled its way through the ship and met his ears. The alert and the guns, he thought, it just doesnt add up. He couldnt rationalize what was happeningit was just too unusual. He had to obey orders, though. If this was a drill, it was something he hadnt seen before.