_Oily smoke from the burning_ Arizona (_BB-39_) _boils up in the
background beyond the Navy Yard water towers, one of them, in center,
signal-flag bedecked. Note several Marines attempting to deploy a
3-inch antiaircraft gun in the foreground._]
The Japanese eventually put Major Roberts’ ingenious fire control
methods--the field musics--to the test. After hearing four hearty
blasts from the bandsmen, the .50-calibers began hammering out cones
of tracer that caught two low-flying dive bombers as they pulled out
of their runs over Pearl, prompting Roberts’ fear that the ships would
fire at them, too, and hit the barracks. One Val slanted earthward near
what appeared to be either the west end of the lower tank farm or the
south end of the Naval Hospital reservation, while the other, emitting
great quantities of smoke, crashed west-southwest of the parade ground.
Although the Marines success against their tormentors must have seemed
sweet indeed, a skeptical Captain Taxis thought it more likely that the
crews of the two Vals bagged by the machine gunners had just run out of
luck. Most of the firing, in his opinion, had been quite ineffectual,
mostly “directed at enemy planes far beyond range of the weapons and
merely fired into the air at no target at all.” Gunners on board the
fleet’s warships were faring little better!
Almost simultaneously with the dive-bombing attacks, horizontal bombing
attacks began. Major Roberts noted that the 18 bombers “flew in two
Vees of nine planes each in column of Vees and [that] they kept a good
formation.” At least some of those planes appeared to have bombed the
battleship _Pennsylvania_ and the destroyers _Cassin_ and _Downes_ in
Dry Dock No. 1. In the confusion, however, Roberts probably saw two
divisions of _Kates_ from _Zuikaku_ preparing for their attack runs
on Hickam Field. A single division of such planes from _Shokaku_,
meanwhile, attacked the Navy Yard and the Naval Air Station.
Well removed from the barracks, Marines assigned to the Navy Yards
Fire Department rendered invaluable assistance in leading critical
firefighting efforts. Heading the department, Sergeant Harold F. Abbott
supervised the distribution of the various units, and coordinated the
flood of volunteers who stepped forward to help.
One of Abbott’s men, Private First Class Marion M. Milbrandt, with his
1,000-gallon pumper, summoned to the Naval Hospital grounds, found that
one of _Kaga_’s Kates--struck by machine gun fire from the ships moored
in the Repair Basin--had crashed near there. The resulting fire, fed
by the crashed plane’s gasoline, threatened the facility, but Milbrandt
and his crew controlled the blaze.
Other Marine firefighters were hard at work alongside Dry Dock No. 1.
_Pennsylvania_ had not been the only ship not fully ready for war,
since she lay immobile at one end of the drydock. _Downes_ lay in the
dock, undergoing various items of work, while _Cassin_ had been having
ordnance alterations at the Yard and thus had none of her 5-inch/38s
ready for firing. Both destroyers soon came in for some unwanted
attention.
As bombs turned the two destroyers into cauldrons of flames and their
crews abandoned ship, two sailors from _Downes_, meanwhile, sprinted
over to the Marine Barracks: Gunner’s Mate First Class Michael G.
Odietus and Gunner’s Mate Second Class Curtis P. Schulze. After
the order to abandon ship had been given, both had, on their own
initiative, gone to the Marine Barracks to assist in the distribution
of arms and ammunition. They soon returned, however, each gunner’s mate
with a Browning Automatic Rifle in hand, to do his part in fighting
back.
[Illustration: _Antiaircraft Gun Fired to a Range of 14,500 Yards_
A 5-inch/25-caliber open pedestal mount antiaircraft gun--manned here
by sailors on board the heavy cruiser _Astoria_ (CA-34) in early
1942--was the standard battleship and heavy cruiser antiaircraft weapon
at Pearl Harbor. The mount itself weighed more than 20,000 pounds,
while the gun fired a 53.8-pound projectile to a maximum range (at
45 degrees elevation) of 14,500 yards. It was a weapon such as this
that Sergeants Hailey and Wears, and Private First Class Curran, after
the sinking of their ship, _Oklahoma_ (BB-37), helped man on board
_Maryland_ (BB-46) on 7 December 1941.]
Utilizing three of the department’s pumpers, meanwhile, the first
firefighters from the yard, who included Corporal John Gimson, Privates
First Class William M. Brashear, William A. Hopper, Peter Kerdikes,
Frank W. Feret, Marvin D. Dallman, and Corporal Milbrandt, among them,
soon arrived and began to play water on the burning ships. At about
0915, four torpedo warheads on board _Downes_ cooked off and exploded,
the concussion tearing the hoses from the hands of the men fighting the
blaze and sending fragments everywhere, temporarily forcing all hands
to retreat to the nearby road and sprawl there. Knocked flat several
times by the explosions, the Marines and other firefighters, which
included men from _Cassin_ and _Downes_, and civilian yard workmen,
remained on the job.
Explosions continued to wrack the two destroyers, while subsequent
partial flooding of the dock caused _Cassin_ to pivot on her forefoot
and heel over onto her sister ship. Working under the direction of
Lieutenant William R. Spear, a 57-year-old retired naval officer called
to the colors, the firemen were understandably concerned that the oil
fires burning in proximity to the two destroyers might drift aft in the
partially flooded dry dock and breach the caisson, unleashing a wall of
water that would carry _Pennsylvania_ (three of whose four propeller
shafts had been pulled for overhaul) down upon the burning destroyers.
Preparing for that eventuality, Private First Class Don O. Femmer, in
charge of the 750-gallon pumper, stood ready should the conflagration
spread to the northeast through the dock.
Fortunately, circumstances never required Femmer and his men to defend
the caisson from fire, but the young private had more than his share of
troubles, when his pumper broke down at what could have been a critical
moment. Undaunted, Femmer made temporary repairs and stood his ground
at the caisson throughout the raid.
At the opposite end of the dry dock, meanwhile, Private First Class
Omar E. Hill fared little better with his 500-gallon pumper. As if the
firefighting labors were not arduous enough, a ruptured circulating
water line threatened to shut down his fire engine. Holding a rag on
the broken line while his comrades raced away to obtain spare parts,
Hill kept his pumper in the battle.
[Illustration: