I’m Don Bell. Let’s get prepared, Manila! Looks like we’ll be next! We’ll be back with more news on this shocking story of war waged against the United States in the Pacific in just a moment.
The room was thick with silence except for the static from the radio set. The lieutenant was playing with the dial hoping to pick up some more broadcasts as Captain Jenkins radioed battalion headquarters at Fort Stotsenberg for confirmation.
“That guy Bell is playing mind games with us. He’s a hot head. Always spoutin’ off about the Japs. The Japs this and the Japs that. It’s a hoax,” one of the sergeants said.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Bill,” another guardsman answered. “If they wipe out the fleet in the Pacific, we’re goners and them Nips know it.”
“Ah, bull! That radio guy in Manila is just pulling our leg. Gettin’ everybody to listen so they can sell more ads. I got a business back in Demming. That’s exactly how to get people tuned in,” added another soldier.
“That’s right. Besides, how could the Japs get so close to Hawaii without being spotted?” the sergeant reassured himself
Norman tapped Lieutenant Kerns to get his attention. “Sir, I’d like permission to speak with you.”
“Not right now, Corporal. Get back to your unit,” he answered, agitated, with his interest clearly focused on the small tabletop radio.
Norman broke away from the crowd gathered at the table and ran back across the field to his 37-mm anti-aircraft gun.
“You think this is for real, Norm?” Johnny asked excitedly, as he strapped his washbasin-style helmet on.
“I can’t say. I heard a radio over in the command hut across the way. The radio guy is all excited saying Pearl Harbor’s been bombed, ships sunk, sneak attack, thousands dead … I don’t know. I’m sure worried about Lucian. I know what he and Riley are up to.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“He and Sergeant Riley from HQ Battery have got some trading going one with men from the 60th Coastal Artillery on Corregidor. Seems they want some guns and parts and we want some from them. Shipments on parts down at the Quartermaster’s in Manila got all goofed up. We can’t fire some of the three-inch guns and they can’t fire some of their thirty-seven millimeters.”
“Where the heck is Corregidor?”
“It’s out in Manila Bay. And if he gets caught out there, he might not be able to get back. If the Japs attack, well, I’d rather be where I can keep an eye on him, look out for him.”
“He’s a big boy, Norm.”
“Yeah, well I promised my pa I’d bring him back, look out for him.”
“I suppose my Uncle Jason, your daddy, made Lucian make the same promise. You just don’t know it.”
“Suppose so.”
“Okay, boys,” the sergeant yelled. “It’s official for now. Dig in. Get ready for a war. Keep your eyes peeled and helmets on. This is what we trained for.”
Norman thought he’d lost his religion at the church in Redemption that day six months ago, the day his love was taken by his brother. He felt anxious now, wondering how to protect his twin.
He prayed. He silently offered a petition, the first one in months, for Lucian’s safety, and wondered why it had to come to this to see what really mattered most.
CHAPTER 36
“Look at the waves of navy fighters coming over. Some big exercise going on, you suppose?” Lucian drawled, with the first chewing tobacco he’d had in months wedged in his cheek.
“Thought you said you gave that stuff up,” deep-voiced Sergeant Riley answered. They both gazed intently at the plane-filled sky as the sun climbed to midmorning over the teeming port city of Manila.
“I gave it up for Mary Jane. But she isn’t here, so might as well enjoy some vice.” He grinned. “So you suppose they’re navy planes or army aircorp?” he asked again as they both watched intently from the bow of the small navy patrol boat that had taken them to Corregidor and was on its return run across Manila Bay.
“Looks like they’re headed right smack over Manila,” Riley answered. “Maybe some Military Day parade. Showin’ off for General MacArthur’s birthday or another bigwig maybe?”
“Could be. What’s that stuff they’re dropping? If it’s a celebration, why haven’t we heard about it? Look.” Lucian pointed to the tiny falling objects still miles away from their position in the bay.
“Can’t make it out from here. Mighty curious, like floating black dots,” answered the rough voice of Sergeant Riley.
The sound of sailors shouting commands and racking the deck guns, readying them for action, alerted the two soldiers that something was wrong with the planes. Clouds of dust and faint explosions were now rising from the city they sped toward.
“Those are Jap bombers!” the ensign at the controls, with binoculars in hand, yelled. “Meatball markings all over ’em! Grab a rifle!” he yelled, directing Lucian and Riley to a gun rack.
“Japs?” Lucian questioned as they both quickly perceived the war game they had been playing in the Philippines with the National Guard suddenly was real. “The Japs are nuts! They can’t attack the U.S. and get away with it,” Lucian called to Riley as an innocent trusting boy would, stunned by the sudden appearance of an unsuspected bully.
“Here!” Riley returned tossing a .30-caliber navy carbine to Lucian. “And you’ll need these,” he added, sliding some ammunition clips across the deck to him.
Salty spray moistened the deck as they sped in the direction of the unprecedented spectacle—waves of Japanese planes dropping death upon the peaceful sleepy port city in broad daylight.
“Arrogant SOBs,” Riley spit as he focused on the sight.
To Lucian it all seemed unreal, some ruse, a game, spoiling the army vacation he had planned would end in twelve months so he could return to Mary Jane and begin his new life. He thought of Norman back at the fort, what might be going through his head right now.
Their small speeding craft was an unnoticed speck of navy gray on white foaming breakers in the blue Manila Bay as they approached the sound of confusion on the looming shoreline.
“They’re after the ammunition dumps. There goes one!” the ensign called out as a fireball shot skyward from the docks. “The storage, fuels, ammo, big ships, gun emplacements. That’s what they’ll go for first. We’ll head for Manila North Harbor and the shoreline away from the stuff they’ll be bombing down south here,” he yelled above the engine noise.
“Keep an eye out for fighter planes,” called a sailor on the bow gun behind him to the two soldiers crouched on either side of him.
“Say, Riley. Think these carbines can hit a plane?” Lucian called out.
“If it’s sittin’ still, I suppose,” he answered dryly.
“How do ya lead a plane that’s going two hundred miles an hour?” he called back.
“Real fast,” Riley replied with a wink.
Lucian sought to discover the bravado and carefree composure of his movie heroes who handled danger so well. He wondered if the tough Riley, an amateur boxer and cowboy back home, was afraid. He had swaggered into more barroom brawls than any man in the regiment he’d ever seen.
Lucian wiped thoughtfully at the perspiration beading on his brow. Was Norman under attack at Clark Airfield? Was he in danger? His own crew, with Jimmy Bogan, would be handling the .50-caliber machine guns without him. Any deaths among his friends?
No, the Japs would have to tangle with the P-40 fighter planes at Clark. The planes would all be in the air mixing up the skies in dog fights, he supposed. That would make it hard for the guys on the ground to even be in the fight for fear of knocking one of their own planes out of the sky.
The aerial action seemed unreal, movielike. The billowing smoke, the exploding docks before him were a new scene his mind tried to grasp, as he alternately focused upon the planes now clearly marked with a red ball on each wing.
A transport ship exploded into a fiery cloud of confusion and he could see specks, forms of
men, leaping from its deck into the water, which also caught fire.
“Radio from Manila says the Nips attacked Pearl Harbor earlier today. It’s war, boys!” the ensign confirmed as his radio operator continued relaying messages. “Hold on!” he screamed as he added throttle to gain speed and began jumping the small ship from side to side in an evasive maneuver.
“Jap fighters,” pointed out the sailor strapped in and manning the big .50-caliber gun on the stern of the patrol boat.
“They see us, you think?” Lucian called across the bow of the craft to Riley who occupied a position opposite him.
“I don’t think they are after small stuff. Still … I don’t think so. No, they’re protecting the bombers and strafing the docks,” the sergeant answered.
“How far away are those Jap planes over there?” Lucian yelled back.
“A mile maybe,” he answered.
The navy ensign at the controls zigzagged wildly as the plywood PT boat raced toward a shoreline above Manila and away from the attacking enemy planes.
“Ensign Murphy!” one of the gunners warned. A Japanese fighter made a low pass over them and then circled back.
“Okay, boys! Hold on. Fire when he’s in range!” the youthful ensign shouted at the top of his lungs.
The fighter came upon them in an arrogant show of confidence, attacking head-on when he could easily have used the sun to shield him or could have attacked from the rear.
Lucian looked wide-eyed to Sergeant Riley who steadied his carbine with the eye of a man determined to pick off a running jackrabbit at one hundred yards. Lucian turned toward the lone Jap plane, imitating him.
The deck-mounted machine guns opened up from both bow and stern as the ensign at the helm guided the boat in wide sweeping turns to avoid direct fire from the enemy plane.
Lucian tensed, felt the surreal danger of the moment. The rapid rattle from guns was deafening. The aircraft was within range to make out the face of the determined pilot as he sought to angle into the swerving craft.
The Japanese Mitsubishi fighter plane, a Zero, spat bullets, splashing in the water toward them. The boat’s crew had the advantage of evasive maneuvering out of the line of fire. Added to the advantage were two lethal .50-calibers and two angry New-Mexican guardsmen with carbines trained on one lone and overly confident Zero pilot. Altogether the playing field was leveled.
Lucian poured his fire into the cockpit along with the other men as the plane made a low and unsuccessful pass overhead. As if in slow motion, he watched blood explode in the canopy and the plane arching wildly, first up and then straight down, crashing into Manila Bay behind them as they sped on.
“Whoo-hoo! Take that Tojo!” Lucian exultantly screamed with the cheers of the crew. The ensign grinned widely as he continued his course for the safety of shore.
“Keep your eyes open. It ain’t over,” the ensign called out.
Lucian experienced a feeling of high euphoria. Riley rolled over to him and offered a congratulatory smack on the back. “We’re killers now.” He smiled.
“Yeah,” Lucian observed. It seemed little more than a violent game for several moments. They were untouched, unfazed. The bombing was distant, and except for the enemy pilot he hadn’t seen anyone dead, anything destroyed.
No, this was as fun as a shooting gallery, he thought. It was like back home in the penny arcade. Picking off targets and scoring the victory. No one really died in the shooting gallery and he sensed all that was happening as dreamlike.
The entire crew celebrated and swelled with an eager anticipation for another go at the enemy as they scouted the sky above and beyond them.
“You hit the beach by those palms. That small boat dock over there. Grab your gear and then hightail for the bushes beyond that nipa hut!” the ensign yelled. “And take those rifles, with some extra ammo! As soon as your feet hit that dock, we’re out of here! You guys copy that?”
“Roger. We copy,” Riley yelled back above the patrol boats’ diesel engines and the immediate background noise of warfare. He turned to Lucian. “Where’s that sight, the range-finder for the thirty-seven millimeter gun we got from those boys on Corregidor?”
“In the gunnysack with the other gear.”
“You grab it. I’ll take the carbines, and some of the small caliber ammo,” he pointed out.
“What about the crate of fifty-caliber stuff we were supposed to take back to Clark with us?”
“It stays, Parker. Those guys gave us carbines. They get the ammo. Unless you figure you can handle it on your back at a dead run.”
Gloomy black plumes of smoke and fiery explosions now became real, not some distant mirage. With their slowing approach to the shore everything about this surprise attack was disturbingly clear. They weren’t going home anytime soon. They’d continue under attack and now would be fighting for their lives.
The first wave of Mitsubishi bombers and fighter planes had disappeared and now the wail of sirens, the sounds of victims stunned by the attack’s interruption of the placid Filipino morning filled the air. Vehicles on fire, screams of people missing their family members, military scrambling to rescue comrades, put out fires, make some order from chaos, was all too apparent. So too were bodies lying in the streets, amid the rubble, dazed walkingwounded, the stunned look of horror on the faces of people unprepared for war.
Hitting up against the small pier, the two soldiers waved a “thanks” to their navy friends and jumped from the craft to the dock, dashing the fifty yards to the beach. Putting the engines in reverse, the patrol boat was quickly on its way to take part in the war from their base at Corregidor. The closest vegetation offering a sense of camouflage became the two soldiers’ first stop so they could gather their senses.
“What’s next?” Lucian asked, exhaling heavily, excitedly, from the run.
Both men looked around and could see that from the shore where they crouched they were at least one hundred yards north of the closest buildings and the chaos engulfing this part of Manila.
“We get back to our post at Clark Field pronto. Let’s go.” Sergeant Riley waved as he led the way.
CHAPTER 37
December 7, 1941, Warm Springs, Oklahoma
Townspeople gathered around the depot at Warm Springs. Jason Parker had blown the shrill whistle five times signaling “emergency,” which was an agreed form of getting the attention of the entire town.
In cars, trucks, and on foot they came to see what the commotion was. A fire? Word of a disaster in Redemption—needing the efforts from the men and women of Warm Springs? They gathered, excited and anxious on the shortline loading dock. Most had returned from afternoon church.
“Gather ’round. Everybody gather around,” urged Jason, who not only ran the train but served as the town fire marshall. “I’ve got some bad news. The worst possible news. Best we all listen to this together. The United States has been attacked by Japan.”
“If this is some kind of joke, Mr. Parker …” Ben Potts, a farmer, shouted from the back of the crowd.
Mary Jane held her hand to her mouth. Her face flushed with panic. Her heart picked up its beat to a race, accompanied by a sudden grip of nausea. She was sure Jason Parker was not a practical joker. Her heart pounded to a fear beating inside her mind, an instantaneous perception that Lucian and Norman would be fighting and not coming home anytime soon.
“Listen up. Everybody listen and be quiet please!” he shouted. The sudden chattering and challenging built to a roar of questions all at once.
“Hush! Now just hush!” he shouted as he stood on a crate in the center of the crowd. “I just heard the news on the radio. This is no joke. Pearl Harbor has just been attacked by Japanese planes and they sank most of our navy ships.”
“Where the Sam-hell is Pearl Harbor?” Ben shouted back.
“Hawaii, Ben. Hawaii. That’s American territory. Listen up. I’ve got a radio inside. If we’ll all file in real peaceful-like, take up benches, and hush, they say the rep
orts will be updated every hour. Now come on in and let’s hear this together.”
Jason could see the uneasiness, the moisture in Mary Jane’s eyes. They were his boys out there too. She rushed to his side embracing him tightly, fearful. He returned the embrace and guided her into the small passenger station and loading room.
Pulling up two chairs to the table near the radio, he turned up the volume and made sure Mary Jane was right beside him. Others gathered closely. The room was filled to overflowing as all the townsfolk seemed to hold a collective breath of anticipation.
This is CBS News with the latest on the unprovoked Japanese attack this morning at dawn in the Hawaiian Islands. At 7:55 A.M. Hawaii time, waves of unidentified planes began to appear over the skies of Oahu. By the time radar had communicated the arrival of unidentified aircraft it was too late. Groups of enemy torpedo-bomber planes coordinated their attacks on Ford Island Naval Base, the area known as Battleship Row and Pearl Harbor Naval Station, army bases and airfields at Scofield, Wheeler, and Hickam Field, Ewa Marine Base, Kaneohe Naval Air Station, Bellows Field, and John Rodgers Airport.
At this time it is known that the seven battleships anchored in the harbor were the Arizona, West Virginia, Nevada, Utah, Tennessee, Oklahoma, and California. All have been seriously damaged or sunk with high losses in killed and wounded. An unspecified number of destroyers, cruisers, and other naval craft have been sunk or severely damaged during the raid that lasted nearly two hours.
It is not known how many of our aircraft have been destroyed but the number may be as high as one half of the estimated four hundred aircraft located on the island of Oahu. Our forces are credited with bringing down twenty-nine of the attacking enemy aircraft. The clouds of war still hang low over the scarred remains of ships, barracks, burned fighters, and bombers all across the island of Oahu.
Casualty estimates range in the thousands.
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