Let's remember Pearl Harbor.

From a thread on the SA forums:

My grandfather used to speak to us about this day when he was deep in his cups. I don't know what ship he was on, he was Army who was on board drinking with some friends.

He spoke of running a machinegun till it jammed on him, then switching to another one where the operator had jumped overboard. (He'd curse that man, calling him a coward) He spoke of the bravery of a black deckhand, who hauled ammunition for this crazy man, and mourned the man's death later in the war.

He told us that the Japanese planes were everywhere, ships were on fire, people on fire were leaping from the decks into the water, officers had no clue what to do and were constantly shouting conflicting orders.

His hands were twisted and gnarled, with the shiney skin of old burn scars, he looked like he was made of barbed wire and tanned leather. His eyes would be bright, and he would be animated, his words slurred at first, then coming out crisp and clear.

I remember feeling chills when he spoke, leaping to his feet and miming firing one of those big hogs. He'd tell us: "I ran through the belt, but it didn't seem to do no good, the damn Japs were everywhere. I turned, and saw a negro sailor standing there, trying to put out a man who was on fire, and I yelled at him: 'GET ME AMMO, YOU GODDAMN NAVY PUKE!' and he ran over to another gun and drug back the box." He'd talk about shooting and yelling "FEED THE GODDAMN GUN!" (Shit, I can still hear his voice through the decades, and it gives me chills)

He told us how the ship heaved like a beast, and he was knocked silly, and the black soldier was firing the gun, blood streaming from his head, and my grandfather climbed to his feet and got ammunition for the man. "SHOOT IN FRONT OF THEM, YOU GODDAMN NAVY PUSSY!" he'd holler, and the sound of his voice would raise goose pimples on our arms.

He spoke of leaping into the water, and dragging his gunner's mate with him, pulling the man by his uniform as he didn't know how to swim. All around him was burning fuel, debris, dead men, men screaming, men shouting. He saw one of the ships heel over with a groan that he'd imitate and make the younger kids cry.

He would fall back into his chair, and tell us that "What I saw, when we climbed on the dying ships bellies with crowbars, torches, and prayers, I never want you to know." and begin drinking again.

Grandma would shoo us out, and more than once, I looked back to see her holding him, and him clutching onto her like a drowning man.



That's why I remember Pearl Harbor, and visited the Arizona Memorial.