Yesterday, December 7, 1941—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.

The United States was at peace with that nation, and, at the solicitation of Japan, was still in conversation with its government and its emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the Pacific. Indeed, one hour after Japanese air squadrons had commenced bombing in the American island of Oahu, the Japanese ambassador to the United States and his colleague delivered to our secretary of state a formal reply to a recent American message. While this reply stated that it seemed useless to continue the existing diplomatic negotiations, it contained no threat or hint of war or armed attack.

It will be recorded that the distance of Hawaii from Japan makes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned many days or even weeks ago. During the intervening time the Japanese government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace.

The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian Islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces. I regret to tell you that very many American lives have been lost. In addition, American ships have been reported torpedoed on the high seas between San Francisco and Honolulu.

May we never forget.

(photos are mine, taken December 7, 2008, Washington DC)
PS – for a personal memory from a WWII Vet I met last year, read about Dave.

I love talking to Veteran’s, especially those from the WWII era. They proudly wear their hats that announce them a WWII Vet and are often willing to spend a few moments chatting with a stranger about life. I also find that the veteran’s from that era are often ready to easily talk about their time during the war. I don’t know if it’s the time distance from the war, their age, or a combination. Maybe it’s the fact that few people are willing to take the time to listen to what they say.

December 7, 2008 was a bright but cold Sunday. I happened to be in DC and wandered own to one of my favorite spots to people watch:  The Navy Memorial.   The Navy Memorial is on on Pennsylvania Avenue at 7th Street.  There you will find a granite sea and the Lone Sailor Sculpture staring across the sea.  When the weather is warm, the fountains are flowing, surrounded by bronze plaques representing different communities of the navy as well as different events.  I always remarked that the only idiosyncrasy is that the fountains smell of chlorine, and they should really smell of salt.   But it was Pearl Harbor Day and the fountains were empty due to the chill in the air.  I would be unable to stay for the wreath laying ceremony honoring the victims and heroes of  “The Day that will Live in Infamy”, but I was fortunate enough to watch the rehearsal.

And that’s where I met Dave.

He was a proud WWII Veteran wearing not only his WWII Veteran Baseball Hat, but a photo of himself in his Navy Uniform. I smiled at him, and the gentleman he was with, telling him I wanted to shake his hand and thank him for his service. He introduced me to his friend, Bill, a Korean Vet.   After I shook hands with Bill, Dave took my gloved hands in his and in that moment, I could see the boy in the photo in the eyes of the man before me.   Without me needing to ask many questions, Dave began to share part of his story.

“I grew up in Maryland, and when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, I didn’t even know where Pearl Harbor was – I had to get a map and find it.  But I joined up – all the kids I knew joined up.  I remember this one kids down the street tried to change the date on his birth certificate, he was only fifteen. Me?  I was seventeen.”

He looked over my shoulder and motioned to the statue of the Lone Sailor.

“My mom took a photo of me – just like that – right before I shipped out.  I’ve looked everywhere and can’t find it, but wondered the first time I saw that statue, if it was me.   Then I realized, it could have been any of us.  But  I had a bag like that, and a was so young and excited, like he is.    I remember that Garrick coat. It was so warm. “  Then he chuckled.   “I actually lost the first one.  Well, didn’t lose it, someone else took mine and left his older one in it’s place.  It wasn’t quite as warm as it had seen some time.”

We chatted more, and as I always do, I ask about life after the war.  He worked for a machine shop and as time passed, he became a manager.  The bonus of management meant a membership at the country club.  His wife, who had passed on several years before, had loved that.   He also told me about his children and grandchildren, especially his son, currently serving in the navy.  He stood a little straighter then, as the told me about his son – he was an officer and was in and out of war zones and loved what he did.

As we parted, I asked him what he remembered the most.  “It was an adventure.  I learned that I could have fun and I loved it.  Maybe I’m not supposed to say I had any fun at all, going off to war.  But I did”.