Part 5

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.

Meanwhile, firefighters on the west side of the dock succeeded in passing three hoses to men on _Pennsylvania_’s forecastle, where they directed blasts of water ahead of the ship and down the starboard side to prevent the burning oil, which resembled a “seething cauldron,” from drifting aft. A second 500-gallon engine crew, led by Private First Class Dallman, battled the fires at the southwest end of the drydock, despite the suffocating oily black smoke billowing forth from _Cassin_ and _Downes_. Eventually, by 1035, the Marines and other volunteers--who included the indomitable Tai Sing Loo--had succeeded in quelling the fires on board _Cassin_; those on board _Downes_ were put out early that afternoon.

More work, however, lay in store for Corporal Milbrandt and his crew. Between 0755 and 0900, three Vals had attacked the destroyer _Shaw_ (DD-373), which shared _YFD-2_ with the little yard tug _Sotoyomo_. All three scored hits. Fires ultimately reached _Shaw’_s forward magazines and triggered an explosion that sent tendrils of smoke into the sky and severed the ship’s bow. Several other volunteer units were already battling the blaze with hose carts and two 350-gallon pumpers sent in from Honolulu. Milbrandt, aided as well by the Pan American Airways fire boat normally stationed at Pearl City, ultimately succeeded in extinguishing the stricken destroyer’s fires.

In the meantime, after having pounded the military installations on Oahu for nearly two hours, between 0940 and 1000 the Japanese planes made their way westward to return to the carrier decks from whence they had arisen. With the respite offered by the enemy’s departure (no one knew for sure whether or not they would be back), the Marines at last found time to take stock of their situation. Fortunately, the Marine Barracks lay some distance away from what had interested the Japanese the most: the ships in the harbor proper. Although some “shell fragments literally rained at times” the material loss sustained by the barracks was slight. Moreover, it had been American gunfire from the ships in the harbor, rather than bombs from Japanese planes overhead, that had inflicted the damage; at one point that morning a 3-inch antiaircraft shell crashed through the roof of a storehouse--the only damage sustained by the barracks during the entire attack.

Considering the carnage at the airfields on Oahu, and especially, among the units of the Pacific Fleet, only four men of the 3d Defense Battalion had been wounded: Sergeant Samuel H. Cobb, Jr., of the 3d Defense Battalion’s 3-inch Antiaircraft Group, suffered head injuries serious enough to warrant his being transferred to the Naval Hospital for treatment, while Private First Class Jules B. Maioran and Private William J. Whitcomb of the Machine Gun Group and Sergeant Leo Hendricks II, of the Headquarters and Service Battery, suffered less serious injuries. In addition, two men sent with the trucks to find ammunition for the 3-inch batteries suffered injuries when they fell off the vehicles.

In their subsequent reports, the defense battalion and barracks officers declined to single out individuals, noting no outstanding individual behavior during the raid--only the steady discharge of duty expected of Marines. To be sure, great confusion existed, especially at first, but the command quickly settled down to work and “showed no more than the normal excitement and no trace of panic or even uneasiness.” If anything, the Marines tended to place themselves at risk unnecessarily, as they went about their business coolly and, in many cases, “in utter disregard of their own safety.” Major Roberts recommended that the entire 3d Defense Battalion be commended for “their initiative, coolness under fire, and [the] alacrity with which they emplaced their guns.”

Commendations, however, were not the order of the day on 7 December. Although the Japanese had left, the Marines expected them to return and finish the job they had begun (many Japanese pilots, including Fuchida, wanted to do just that). If another attack was to come, there was much to do to prepare for it. As the skies cleared of enemy planes, the Marines at the barracks secured their establishment and took steps to complete the work already begun on the defenses. At 1030, the 3d Defense Battalion’s corporal of the guard moved to the barracks and set the battalion’s radio to the Army Information Service frequency, thus enabling them to pass “flash” messages to all groups. The Marines also distributed gas masks to all hands.

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.

Pearl Harbor Remembered

Several of the many memoirs in the Marine Corps Oral History Collection are by Marines who were serving at Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941, and personally witnessed the Japanese attack. Two such memoirs--one by Lieutenant General Alan Shapley and a second by Brigadier General Samuel R. Shaw--vividly describe the events of that day as they remembered it. General Shapley, a major in December 1941, had been relieved as commander of _Arizona_’s Marine detachment on the 6th. He recalled:

I was just finishing my breakfast, and I was just about ready to go to my room and get in my baseball uniform to play the _Enterprise_ for the baseball championship of the United States Fleet, and I heard this terrible bang and crash. I thought it was a motor sailer that they dropped on the fantail, and I ran up there to see what it was all about. When I got up on deck there, the sailors were aligned on the railing there, looking towards Pearl Harbor, and I heard two or three of them say, ‘This is the best damned drill the Army Air Corps has ever put on.’ Then we saw a destroyer being blown up in the dry dock across the way.

The first thing I knew was when the fantail, which was wood, was being splintered when we were being strafed by machine guns. And then there was a little bit of confusion, and I can remember this because they passed the word on ship that all unengaged personnel get below the third deck. You see, in a battleship the third deck is the armored deck, and so realizing what was going on, this attack and being strafed, the unengaged personnel were ordered below the third deck.

That started some people going down the ladders. Then right after that, the _Pennsylvania_, which was the flagship of the whole fleet, put up these signals, “Go to general quarters.” So that meant that the people were going the other way too. Lt [Carleton E.] Simensen did quite a job of turning some of the sailors around, and we went up in the director. [On the way up the mainmast tripod, Lt Simensen was killed.] He caught a burst through the heart and almost knocked me off the tripod because I was behind him on the ladder, and I boosted him up in the searchlight platform and went in to my director. And of course when I got up there, there were only seven or eight men there, and I thought we were all going to get cooked to death because I couldn’t see anything but fire below after a while. I stayed there and watched this whole attack, because I had a grandstand seat for that, and then it got pretty hot. Anyway, the wind was blowing from the stern to the stem and I sent the men down and got those men off. Then I apparently got knocked off or blown off.

I was pretty close to shore.... There was a dredging pipeline that ran between the ship and Ford Island. And I guess that I was only about 25 yards from the pipeline and 10 yards from Ford Island, and managed to get ashore. I wasn’t so much covered with oil. I didn’t have any clothes on. [The burning fuel oil] burnt all my clothes off. I walked up to the airfield which wasn’t very bright of me, because this was still being attacked at first. I wanted to get a machine gun in the administration building but I couldn’t do that. Then I was given a boat cloak from one of my men. It was quite a sight to see 400 or 500 men walking around all burnt, just like charred steak. You could just see their eyes and their mouths. It was terrible. Later I went over to the island and went to the Marine barracks and got some clothes.

At the Marine Barracks, Captain Samuel R. Shaw, who commanded one of the two barracks companies, vividly remembered that Sunday morning as well:

The boat guards were in place, and the music was out there, and the old and new officer of the day. And we had a music, and a hell of a fine sergeant bugler who had been in Shanghai. He would stand beside the officers of the day, and there came the airplanes, and he looked up and he said, “Captain, those are Japanese war planes.” And one of the two of them said, “My God, they are, sound the call to arms.” So the bugler started sounding the call to arms before the first bomb hit.

Of course they had already started taking out the machine guns. They didn’t wait for the key in the OD’s office, they just broke the door down and hauled out the machine guns, put them in position. Everybody that wasn’t involved in that drill grabbed their rifles and ran out in the parade ground, and starting firing at the airplanes. They must have had several hundred men out there with rifles. And every [Japanese] plane that was recovered there, or pieces of it, had lots of .30-caliber holes--somebody was hitting them, machine guns or rifles.

Then I remembered--here we had all these guys on the post who had not been relieved, and they had been posted at 4 o’clock, and come 9 o’clock, 9:30 they not only had not been relieved but had no chow and no water. So I got hold of the mess sergeant and told him to organize, to go around to the posts.

They had a depot. At the beginning it was a supply depot. I told him to send a party over there and draw a lot of canteens and make sandwiches, and we’d send water and sandwiches around to the guys on posts until we found out some way to relieve all these guys, and get people back. Then he told me that it was fine except that he didn’t have nearly enough messmen, they were all out in the parade ground shooting. I think the second phase of planes came in at that time and we had a hell of an uproar.

_Sources_

The authors consulted primary materials in the Marine Corps Historical Center Reference Section (November/December 1941 muster rolls) and Personal Papers Section (Claude A. Larkins, Roger M. Emmons, and Wayne Jordan collections), as well as in the Naval Historical Center Operational Archives Branch (action reports and/or microfilmed deck logs for the 15 ships with embarked Marine Detachments, and those units included in the Commandant, 14th Naval District, report), in the office of the Coast Guard Historian, and in the Gordon W. Prange Papers.

The _Pearl Harbor Attack: Hearings Before the Joint Committee on the Investigation of the Pearl Harbor Attack_ (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1946) contains useful accounts (Lieutenant Commander Fuqua, Lieutenant Colonel Whaling, and Lieutenant Colonel Larkin), as does Paul Stillwell, ed., _Air Raid: Pearl Harbor! Recollections of a Day of Infamy_ (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1981).

General works concerning Pearl Harbor that were consulted include Gordon W. Prange, et al., _December 7, 1941: The Day The Japanese Attacked Pearl Harbor_ (New York: McGraw Hill, 1987), Walter Lord, _Day of Infamy_ (Henry Holt & Co., 1957), and Japanese War History Office, _Senshi Sosho_ [War History Series], Vol. 10, _Hawaii Sakusen_ (Tokyo: Asagumo Shimbunsa, 1970).

Articles from the _Naval Institute Proceedings_ include: Cornelius C. Smith Jr., “... A Hell of a Christmas,” (Dec68), Thomas C. Hone, “The Destruction of the Battle Line at Pearl Harbor,” (Dec77) and Paul H. Backus, “Why Them And Not Me?” (Sep81). From _Marine Corps Gazette_: Clifford B. Drake, “A Day at Pearl Harbor,” (Nov65). From _Shipmate_: Samuel R. Shaw, “Marine Barracks, Navy Yard, Pearl Harbor,” (Dec73). From _Naval History_: Albert A. Grasselli, “The Ewa Marines” (Spring 1991). From _Leatherneck_: Philip N. Pierce, “Twenty Years Ago ...” (Dec61)

_About the Authors_

Robert J. Cressman is currently a civilian historian in the Naval Historical Center’s Ships’ Histories Branch. A graduate of the University of Maryland with a bachelor of arts in history in 1972, he obtained his master of arts in history under the late Dr. Gordon W. Prange at the University of Maryland in 1978. Mr. Cressman, a former reference historian in the Marine Corps Historical Center’s Reference Section (1979–1981), is author of _That Gallant Ship: USS Yorktown (CV-5)_, and editor and principal contributor of _A Glorious Page in Our History: The Battle of Midway, 4–6 June 1942_. He and the co-author of this monograph, J. Michael Wenger, also co-authored _Steady Nerves and Stout Hearts: The USS Enterprise (CV-6) Air Group and Pearl Harbor, 7 December 1941_.

J. Michael Wenger, currently an analyst for the Square D Company in Knightdale, North Carolina, graduated from Atlantic Christian College in 1972, and obtained a master of arts from Duke University in 1973. Mr. Wenger has taught in the Raleigh, North Carolina, school system and writes as a free-lance military historian. He is the co-author of _The Way It Was: Pearl Harbor--The Original Photographs_. His publication credits include the Raleigh _News and Observer_ and _Naval Aviation News_.

About the Cover: In the aftermath of the attack, _Pennsylvania_ (BB-38) lies astern of the wrecked destroyers _Cassin_ (DD-372) and _Downes_ (DD-375).

This pamphlet history, one in a series devoted to U.S. Marines in the World War II era, is published for the education and training of Marines by the History and Museums Division, Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps, Washington, D.C., as a part of the U.S. Department of Defense observance of the 50th anniversary of victory in that war.

Editorial costs of preparing this pamphlet have been defrayed in part by a bequest from the estate of Emilie H. Watts, in memory of her late husband, Thomas M. Watts, who served as a Marine and was the recipient of a Purple Heart.

WORLD WAR II COMMEMORATIVE SERIES

_DIRECTOR OF MARINE CORPS HISTORY AND MUSEUMS_ =Brigadier General Edwin H. Simmons, USMC= (=Ret=)

_GENERAL EDITOR, WORLD WAR II COMMEMORATIVE SERIES_ =Benis M. Frank=

_EDITING AND DESIGN SECTION, HISTORY AND MUSEUMS DIVISION_ =Robert E. Struder=, Senior Editor; =W. Stephen Hill=, Visual Information Specialist; =Catherine A. Kerns=, Composition Services Technician

Marine Corps Historical Center Building 58, Washington Navy Yard Washington, D.C. 20374-0580

=1992=

PCN 190 003116 00

For sale by the U.S. Government Printing Office Superintendent of Documents, Mail Stop: SSOP, Washington, DC 20402-9328

Transcriber’s Notes

Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they were not changed.

Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced quotation marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and otherwise left unbalanced.