_In the aftermath of the attack_, Pennsylvania (_BB-38_) _lies astern
of the wrecked destroyers_ Cassin (_DD-372_) _and_ Downes (_DD-375_)
_in Dry Dock No. 1. Light cruiser_ Helena (_CL-50_) _lies alongside
1010 Dock in right background; pall of smoke is from the still-burning_
Arizona (_BB-39_). _Marine firefighters distinguished themselves in
battling blazes in this area._]
The morning and afternoon passed quickly, the men losing track of time.
The initial confusion experienced during the opening moments of the
raid had by that point given way to at least some semblance of order,
as officers and noncoms arrived from leave and began to sort out their
commands. At 1105, the 3d Defense Battalion’s Battery G deployed to
makeshift defense positions as an infantry reserve in some ditches dug
for building foundations. All of the messmen, many of whom had taken
an active hand in the defense of the barracks against the Japanese
attack, returned to the three general mess halls and opened up an
around-the-clock service to all comers, including “about 6,000 meals
... to the civilian workmen of the navy yard,” a service discontinued
only “after the food supply at the regular established eating places
could be replenished.”
By 1100, at least some of the 3-inch batteries were emplaced and
ready to answer any future Japanese raids. At the north end of the
parade ground, the 3d Defense Battalion’s Battery D stood ready for
action at 1135 while another battery, consisting of three guns and an
antiaircraft director (the one originally earmarked for Midway) lay
at the south end. At 1220, Major Roberts organized his battalion’s
strength into six task groups. Task group no. 1 was to double the Navy
Yard guard force, no. 2 was to provide antiaircraft defense, and no.
3 was to provide machine gun defense. No. 4 was to provide infantry
reserve and firefighting crews, no. 5 was to coordinate transportation,
and no. 6 was to provide ammunition and equipment, as well as messing
and billeting support.
By 1300, meanwhile, all of the fires in Dry Dock No. 1 had been
extinguished, permitting the Marine and civilian firefighters to secure
their hard-worked equipment. Although the two battered destroyers,
_Cassin_ and _Downes_, appeared to be total losses, those who had
battled the blaze could take great satisfaction in knowing that they
had not only spared _Pennsylvania_ from serious fire damage but had
also played a major role in saving the drydock. As Tai Sing Loo
recounted later in his own brand of English: “The Marines of the Fire
Dep[artmen]t of the Navy Yard are the Heroes of the Day of Dec. 7, 1941
that save the _Cassin_ and _Downes_ and USS _Pennsylvania_ in Dry Dock
No. 1.”
Later that afternoon, Battery D’s four officers and 68 enlisted men,
with four .30-caliber machine guns sent along with them for good
measure, moved from the barracks over to Hickam Field to provide the
Army installation some measure of antiaircraft protection. Hickam also
benefitted from the provision of the 2d Engineer Battalion’s service
and equipment. After the attack, the battalion’s dump truck and two
bulldozers lumbered over to the stricken air base to assist in clearing
what remained of the bombers that had been parked wingtip to wingtip,
and filling bomb craters.
* * * * *
Around 1530, a Marine patrol approached Tai Sing Loo, a familiar figure
about the Navy Yard, and asked him to do them a favor. They had had
no lunch; some had had no breakfast because of the events of the day.
Going to the garage, Loo rode his bright red “putput” over to the 3d
Defense Battalion mess hall and related to his old friend Technical
Sergeant Joseph A. Newland the tale of the hungry Marines. Newland and
his messmen prepared ham and chicken sandwiches and Loo made the rounds
of all the posts he could reach.
* * * * *
In the afternoon and early evening hours of 7 December, the men
received reports that their drinking water was poisoned, and that
various points on Oahu were being bombed and/or invaded. In the absence
of any real news, such alarming reports--especially when added to
the already nervous state of the defenders--only fueled the fear and
paranoia prevalent among all ranks and rates. In addition, most of the
men were exhausted after their exertions of the morning and afternoon.
Dog-tired, many would remain on duty for 36 hours without relief.
Drawn, unshaven faces and puffy eyes were common. Tense, expectant and
anxious Marines and sailors at Pearl spent a fitful night on the 7th.
* * * * *
It is little wonder that mistakes would be made that would have tragic
consequences, especially in the stygian darkness of that first
blacked-out Hawaiian night following the raid. Still some hours away
from Oahu, the carrier _Enterprise_ and her air group had been flying
searches and patrols throughout the day, in a so-far fruitless effort
to locate the Japanese carrier force. South of Oahu, one of her pilots
spotted what he thought was a Japanese ship and _Enterprise_ launched a
31-plane strike at 1642. Nagumo’s fleet, however, was homeward bound.
While _Enterprise_ recovered the torpedo planes and dive bombers after
their fruitless search, she directed the fighters to land at NAS Pearl
Harbor.
Machine guns on board the battleship _Pennsylvania_ opened fire on the
flight as it came for a landing, though, and soon the entire harbor
exploded into a fury of gunfire as cones of tracers converged on
the incoming “Wildcats.” Three of the F4Fs slanted earthward almost
immediately; a fourth crashed a short time later. Two managed to land
at Ford Island. The 3d Defense Battalion’s journalist later recorded
that “six planes with running lights under 400 feet altitude tried Ford
Island landing and were machine gunned.” It was a tragic footnote to
what had been a terrible day indeed.
The Marines at Pearl Harbor had been surprised by the attack that
descended upon them, but they rose to the occasion and fought back
in the “best traditions of the naval service.” While the enemy had
attacked with tenacity and daring, no less so was the response from
the Marines on board the battleships and cruisers, at Ewa Mooring Mast
Field, and at the Marine Barracks. One can only think that Admiral
Isoroku Yamamoto’s worst fears of America’s “terrible resolve” and that
he had awakened a sleeping giant would have been confirmed if he could
have peered into the faces, so deeply etched with grim determination,
of the Marines who had survived the events of that December day in 1941.
[Illustration:
_Photo courtesy of Mrs. Evelyn Lee, via Paul Stillwell,
U.S. Naval Institute_
_Tai Sing Loo and His Bright Red ‘Putput’_
Tai Sing Loo, Navy Yard photographer, had scheduled an appointment
to take a picture of the Main Gate guards at the Navy Yard on the
morning of 7 December 1941. While he ended up not taking pictures of
the Marines, he gallantly helped the Marines of the Navy Yard Fire
Department put out fires in Dry Dock No. 1 and later delivered food
to famished Leathernecks. He is seen here on his famous bright red
“putput” that he drove around the yard that day delivering sandwiches
and fruit juice.]