My dad was working as a knife polisher back then, at Colonial Knife, where his older brother was employed. He was also in the National Guard, so on December 7 he was immediately called up. He served in Europe, however, not in the Pacific, in Germany and Austria. At one point he was in the Black Forest and always commented how beautiful the countryside was. My favorite photo of Dad from the war is this one of him holding a fawn. The fawn had been separated from his mother during a battle and all the boys in his company cuddled it and had photos taken with it, a respite from carnage. Later the doe returned and they released their temporary pet.

Some more of Dad's war pics here.

My Uncle Sammy, my mother's younger brother, served in the Pacific. Mom said when he came home my grandmother burst into tears because he looked "like an old man," although he was only 27. The combination of the Pacific heat and the friction had worn most of the hair off his head. The soldiers still wore puttees when they first were shipped out there and again the combination of friction and heat rubbed all the hair from his legs. He was painfully thin and suffered from nightmares; my mother said although he didn't talk about any hardships when he was awake, in his sleep he muttered and cried out about men being killed and rats.

He never liked rice a lot and then in the Pacific a lot of what they served in the mess was rice. From then on he loathed the stuff and when I talked about loving chicken soup with rice he would make horrible faces.

My uncle Ralph (married to Dad's sister) was also in the Pacific, on the USS Muskogee. It served in the Aleutians and also near New Guinea.

Almost all my uncles on both sides and most of my older male cousins served. My cousin Raymond, who passed away this year, was stationed in California, loved it there, and went out to live. I have some photos that my mother kept of her nephew, my cousin Skippy (his real name is John; the oldest son of her older sister) from the service.

I've never asked my other relatives what Pearl Harbor and World War II was like for them; I guess I was too shy. I wish now that I had. The only story I have is my mother's. She and her mother were doing the time-honored Sunday afternoon ritual of visiting after Sunday dinner. They were walking up to a friend's house and could hear shouting from inside the house; then the friend threw the window open and told them the news.

They went to church, she told me. The church was jammed with people. I can't remember if she said the priest just led them in prayer or actually said a Mass. The image haunts me: the old-fashioned Catholic church with its big stained glass windows, the vigil candles glowing row by row next to the altar—and more of them being lighted as more people came in to pray, the sharp scent of incense and perhaps of Christmas greens that had been put up for Advent, the muted light, the people in their Sunday best crying or with sad, angry faces...

Pearl Harbor Survivors Gather for "Final Reunion"

A different story about the final reunion

SAN FRANCISCO: Pearl Harbor Was a Close Thing for the City in 1941

An Indiana Survivor's Memories

A Pennsylvania Survivor's Memories

An Ohio Survivor's Memories

A Storm Saved Them from Carnage

Arizona's Final Mission

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