In The Neighborhood

June / July, 2010

Remembering Pear Harbor

On Sunday morning, December 7, 1941, Gunner's Mate 3rd Class Armstrong was below deck cooking breakfast. As part of his three-month stint as a mess cook, he fed 20 hungry sailors and joined in the conversation, agreeing that it would take only a matter of weeks to knock out the Japanese Navy. A quick glance at the clock told him it was 7:55.

By Marge D. Hansen

As a young boy, growing up in landlocked Sterling, Colorado, Don Armstrong dreamed of joining the Navy and making it a career. He graduated from high school in 1940, turned 18 on September 30th and, with a buddy from nearby Holyoke, enlisted in the Navy the very next day.

After boot camp in San Diego, Armstrong reported to the battleship U.S.S. Tennessee, disappointed not to be with his friend who was assigned to the U.S.S. Arizona.

The 32,300-ton Tennessee was more than two city blocks long and 106 feet wide, with a crew of 2,200 men aboard. Its plant generated enough power to light up a large city, and the wiring could encircle the globe three times. The ship was fitted with heavy 14-inch turret guns that could be elevated to 30 degrees, allowing an additional reach of 10,000 yards.

On December 6, 1941, seven of the nine battleships of the U.S. Pacific Fleet were tied-up at their Battleship Row deepwater berths alongside Ford Island. While on liberty in Honolulu, Armstrong ran into his friend from Holyoke. Since it was only 10:30, well in advance of the 12:30 a.m. curfew, they joked and laughed, catching up on the news before his friend headed back to the Arizona and he returned to the Tennessee. It was a chance encounter that Armstrong would be grateful for later.

Bombs Away

Washing up the breakfast dishes on Sunday morning, Armstrong sloshed some soapy water onto the deck, causing several sailors to slip and slide. They were moving fast, yelling that planes were bombing the air base.

In rapid succession, they climbed the ladder to the boat deck where the antiaircraft guns were located. "Just as we got there, a Japanese plane pulled up after dropping a torpedo that hit the West Virginia," Armstrong remembers. "When the torpedo exploded, the West Virginia's honey box (a 20-foot-by-four foot heavy metal garbage container) went flying about 60 feet in the air. Seconds later, when the second torpedo plane pulled up from its run, a machine gun from our ship hit its gas tank and it exploded into flames and crashed," he says. "We were standing there dumbfounded, and we clapped and cheered.

"I was frightened, but I found as soon as our guns were able to shoot back that my courage also came back. I was a talker, (stationed high above the bridge) wearing earphones and relaying to our gun batteries directions of incoming planes. I'm sure that if I would have had a camera, I could have taken some of the best pictures of the war."

Now 87 years old, Armstrong's memories of December 7, the surprise, the incredible transition of a quiet morning to a day of infamy, remain strong. "I witnessed the blowing up of the Arizona, tied behind us, which took a direct hit down its stack, and the capsizing of the Oklahoma. I witnessed the Nevada getting underway, heading for sea only to be shelled by dive bombers so badly that it was necessary for the captain to beach his ship rather than let it sink and block the channel. The raging fire on the West Virginia was so bad I could no longer stand to look at it.

"When it was over, the harbor was a mass of burning ships. Nineteen sank or were badly damaged. I believe I was on one of the luckiest ships," Armstrong says. "We were hit by two bombs: a small bomb on turret 2 and a large armor-piercing shell converted to a bomb that was deflected by a yard arm and struck turret 3 a glancing blow but did not completely explode. The Tennessee's casualties were only four men killed, 37 men wounded. The water surrounding the Tennessee was covered with burning oil, which had spread from the Arizona. After the battle, it was determined that 18 to 20 bombs fell within a hundred yards of our ship. The fastest two hours of my life were spent on that day."

Promoted through the ranks and, at the time, the youngest chief in the Navy, Armstrong served for a little more than six years. After Pearl Harbor, he was stationed in Philadelphia and then returned to Colorado. He and his wife, Barbara, who knew each other in high school where Armstrong "put it inside my mind that I was going to marry her someday," still live in the Sterling home where they raised their sons Brad and Steve.

Armstrong, a young sailor from the high plains of northeastern Colorado, along with other military personnel from across the nation, survived the December 7, 1941 attack. They helped shape American history with their brave actions. By sharing their firsthand accounts, they preserve the Pearl Harbor story for future generations.

PEARL HARBOR STATISTICS

• The U.S.S. Arizona, with 1,177 of her crew, sank in less than nine minutes.
• The torpedoed U.S.S. Oklahoma rolled over, trapping more than 400 men inside.
• The U.S.S. California and U.S.S. West Virginia sank at their moorings.
• Converted to a training ship, the U.S.S. Utah capsized with more than 50 of her crew.
• The U.S.S. Maryland, Pennsylvania and Tennessee were badly damaged.
• The U.S.S. Nevada took several hits and was beached.
• Hickam, Wheeler and Bellows airfields, Ewa Marine Corps Air Station, Kaneohe Bay Naval Air Station and Schofield Barracks suffered damage.
• Planes on the ground were destroyed, and hundreds of men were killed or wounded.

Source: www.nps.gov/valr/historyculture/index.htm

Marge D. Hansen is a Lafayette-based freelance writer/editor and a regular contributor to Out of Denver.