At 07:45 several civilian pilots were lazily circling over the area. There wasn't a single military ship visible. Eighteen planes approaching from the carrier Enterprise were scheduled to land at Ford Island within the hour.
The only Army Air Corps planes aloft in the vicinity were the 12 Flying Fortresses from California earmarked for MacArthur. They were due to land at Hickham Field, several miles south of Ford Island, in about an hour. But of the Oahu-based Army planes, not one was on patrol. Still on four-hour notice, they were all tightly bunched together wing tip to wing tip for security against saboteurs at Hickham, Bellows and Wheeler Fields. So were the Marine planes at Ewa.
Of all the military planes in Hawaii, only 7 Navy PBY's were on patrol . . .
About 25 miles to the northwest Japanese pilots in the leading attack planes were marveling at the peaceful green scene below them. The entire island seemed to be lazing luxuriantly in the early sun. Not even a trace of smoke was coming up from the motionless mass of ships in Pearl Harbor.
At 07:49 Commander Fuchida from his high-level bomber gave the attack signal in Morse code, "TO . . . TO . . . TO." Four minutes later the great naval base was spread out below him like a huge relief map. It looked exactly as he imagined. Still no fighters were climbing up to challenge; nor was there a single mushroom explosion of anti-aircraft fire. It was unbelievable. They had achieved complete surprise.
Even before a single bomb dropped he now radioed: "TORA . . . TORA . . . TORA." (Tiger). The repeated word was heard by Admiral Nagumo. It was also heard directly on board the Nagato, at Combined Fleet Headquarters in Japan. When the message was brought to Yamamoto he said nothing, his face betrayed no emotion. The other officers spontaneously cheered when the laconic message was read aloud. The Nagato was engulfed in excitement. The message decoded meant: "We have succeeded in surprise attack."
Still no bomb has fallen. Except for the roar of approaching planes all was quiet in the Honolulu area . . .
At that same moment, near the center of the island of Oahu, Japanese fighters and bombers began to dive on the Army's Wheeler Field, adjacent to Schofield Barracks.
Second Lieutenant Robert Overstreet, of the 696th Aviation Ordinance Company, was sleeping in the two-story wooden BOQ. He was awakened by a terrific noise. At first he thought it was an earthquake. "Looks like Jap planes," he heard someone shout. "Hell, no," said someone else. "It's just a Navy maneuver."
Overstreet's door opened and an old friend, Lieutenant Robert Skawold, looked in. His face was white, his lips trembling. "I think Japs are attacking."
Overstreet looked out the window, saw planes circling overhead. They seemed to be olive drab. One dove on the barracks, coming so close he could see the pilot and the rear gunner. On the fuselage and wing tips were flaming red suns. He finished dressing as he ran out of the barracks and headed for his organization. Soon he came onto a group of fighter pilots.
"We've got to get down to the line and tag some of those bastards," shouted one, Lieutenant Harry Brown. Another pilot pointed to the burning hangars and the ramp. There the closely grouped planes were already ablaze.
"Let's go to Haliewa," said Brown. This was an auxiliary field on the north coast where a few P-40's and P-36's were kept. Brown and several other pilots piled into his new Ford convertible and left. Lieutenants George Welch and Kenneth Taylor followed in the latter's car.
Hundreds were milling around in shocked confusion as bombs fell and buildings erupted. Overstreet weaved his way through the mob toward the permanent quarters area. On the Circle he saw Brigadier General Howard Davidson, the fighter commandant, and Colonel William Flood, the base commander, standing by their front doors in pajamas, staring at the sky, their faces aghast.
"Where's our Navy?" said Flood. "Where's our fighters?"
"General," shouted Overstreet, "we'd better get out of here. Those planes have tail-gunners." He ran toward the ordinance hanger. To his horror it was in flames. Inside were a million rounds of machine-gun ammunition ticketed for Midway Island. Suddenly the hangar began to explode, like an endless row of huge firecrackers . . .
At 07:55 a V-formation of planes suddenly appeared from the west. [Aircraft mechanics Jesse Gaines and Ted Conway were walking toward the flight line at Hickam Field.] As they began to peel off, Conway said, "We're going to have an air show."
Gaines noticed something fall from the first plane. He guessed in alarm that it was a wheel.
"Wheel, hell, they're Japs!" cried Conway.
As Gaines said, "You're crazy," a bomb exploded among the neatly packed planes on the field. The two men began to run toward the big three-storied barracks, "Hickam Hotel." Gaines saw some gas drums and dove behind them for protection. Fighters were now diving in a strafing attack, there machine guns spitting orange flames . . .
The Japanese plan was simple but efficient. First, to prevent an air counterattack, the airfields were being systematically wiped out. In the first few minutes the Navy bases, Kaneohe and Ford Island; the Army bases, Wheeler, Bellows, and Hickam; and the lone Marine base, Ewa, were all but crippled.
A moment after the first bomb fell, the Pearl Harbor signal tower alerted Kimmel's headquarters by phone. Three minutes later, at 07:58, the message heard around the world was broadcast by Read Admiral Patrick Bellinger from Ford Island:
Air Raid, Pearl Harbor--This is no drill.
Closely on it's heels, at 08:00 Kimmel's headquarters radioed Wahington, Admiral Hart in the Philippines and all forces at sea: Air raid on Pearl Harbor--This is no drill. Even as the messages were going out, torpedo planes were diving on the main target, Battleship Row.
Admiral C. C. Bloch was shaving at his quarters in the Navy Yard. He thought workmen were blasting in the nearby stone quarry. When the explosions continued he told his wife, "I'm going outside and see what that noise is." He ran out the front door. Overhead he saw a plane in flames. He went back into the house. "The Japanese are bombing us. I've got to get to the office. Don't stay down here."
At the naval housing unit adjacent to Hickam Field, First Class Metalsmith Lawrence Chappell was in bed. A plane roared overhead.
"What are those planes?" asked his wife, starting toward the window. "It's too late for the Bomber Patrol."
"Probably stragglers."
"The Rising Sun! The Rising Sun! Japanese!" cried Mrs. Chappell.
"You're foolish, go back to bed." Another plane roared over and Chappell went to the window. A torpedo plane swept by, so close he could see the pilot turning around, unconcerned. He hurriedly dresed and ran outside. Now he heard anti-aircraft fire and saw flames and billows of black smoke rising from Pearl Harbor.
Kimmel was watching the torpedo attack from the hill at Makalapa near his quarters. Short was standing on the the lanai of his home near Fort Shafter watching the billows of smoke in the west and wondering what was going on at Pearl Harbor.
The smoke was rising form Battleship Row, on the east side of Ford Island where seven battleships, the heart of the Pacific Fleet, were moored. They were not protected from aerial torpedoes by nets because of Pearl Harbor's 40-foot depth. This matter had been discussed many times by Kimmel and Stark. Even the British had been consulted. Everyone agreed a minimum depth of 75 feet was necessary for torpedoes.
This unanimous conclusion was surprising since the British themselves had made a successful plane attack on the Italian fleet at Taranto the previous year with specially rigged torpedoes. The Japanese bombers diving on Battleship Row were proving as clever as the British. They were dropping torpedoes with ingeniously constructed wooden fins, specially designed for shallow water.
Not far from Battleship Row, Yeoman C. O. Lines of the oil tanker Ramapo was in the crew's quarters. Boatswain's Mate Graff rushed down the ladder. "The Japs are bombing Pearl Harbor!" he yelled.
The men in the room looked at him as if he were crazy.
"No fooling," he said.
Someone gave a Bronx cheer.
"No crap. Get your asses up on deck!"
Lines hurried topside to the fantail. He thought Graff was ribbing as usual. Then he heard a dull explosion and saw a plane dive toward the battleship California.
She was the last of the seven big vessels in Battleship Row. Two torpedoes hit her almost simultaneously. The ship took an 8-degree list and began to settle. Her fractured fuel tanks began to flood an entire lower deck. Bombs now fell and half a dozen fires flared. In minutes oil gushing from the ruptured ship burst into flame. She was surrounded by a wall of fire. The word was passed: Abandon Ship.
Ahead, in tandem formation, were the Maryland and Oklahoma. A torpedo couldn't hit the Maryland because she was berthed inboard, next to Ford Island, and was protected by her mate. But the outboard ship, the Oklahoma, was hit by four torpedoes within a minute. As she listed to port, Commander Jesse Kenworthy, senior officer aboard, ordered the ship abandoned over the starboard side. He calmly walked up the ship's side over the blistered ledge and then over the bottom. Soon the ship settled, its starboard propeller out of the water. Below more than 400 men were trapped in the rapidly filling compartments. Next in Battleship Row came another pair, Tennessee and West Virginia. Like the Maryland, the Tennessee was inboard and safe from torpedo attack . . .
-John Toland
From: The United States Navy in World War II
Part I, Chapter 1, Pearl Harbor Attack
Compiled and Edited by S.E. Smith
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