Sunday in Hell, page 26
A lone Japanese fighter piloted by Lieutenant Tadashi Kaneko strafed this line of tents at Bellows Field during the first wave attack on Oahu. USAF
It was approximately 0830 when the lone Zeke roared down a line of tents, his 20-mm canon ammunition apparently gone, machine guns blazing. Private First Class James A. Brown from the medical detachment was slightly wounded in the leg. The Japanese now had the undivided attention of the men of the 86th Observation Squadron.
The entire Casual Detachment got up, went over to the armament building, and drew Browning automatic rifles, Springfield [bolt action] rifles, and machine guns. Unable to find belts of ammunition for the machine guns, they tried aircraft machine gun belts but found they wouldn’t work. The only other firepower available was a machine gun on an 0-47, [a single engine, two-seat aircraft] belonging to the 86th Observation Squadron and two 30-caliber antiaircraft machine guns which Hawaii National Guard personnel of the 298th Infantry positioned at the end of the runway. Everyone dispersed, jumping into ditches, behind buildings, or whatever shelter they could find.9
While the men of the 86th rushed to defend against the next onslaught, the three 44th fighter pilots were determined to get into the air as soon as possible. Squadron maintenance men scrambled to disperse, fuel and arm their aircraft.
Time was of the essence. In another half hour, the second wave’s attack would bring much more than a single Zeke fighter strafing Bellows Field on one pass. Though none from the 86th died at Bellows Field that day, and only three were wounded on a field still under construction, two more of their number received wounds in the Japanese assault on Hickam Field - and two of the 44th’s three pilots would die at Bellows, with the other wounded in desperate, vain, raging attempts to get airborne and strike back at the now-declared enemy.
The worst was in progress elsewhere, far worse. Between dawn, when the 86th’s acting first sergeant told of Kaneohe’s attack, 0810 hours, when the call for a fire truck came from Hickam, and 0830, when the Zeke roared through on a strafing pass, hell was visiting the island of Oahu. Wheeler Field, the home of the Hawaiian Air Force’s air and fleet defense, the 14th Pursuit Wing, was the first Army Air Force field struck on Oahu. By 0900, when the second wave struck Bellows and completed their work on Kaneohe, the fierce Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and other military installations on the island had become a never-to-be-forgotten, bloody, American national disaster.10
Plans to Counter Sabotage, Levels of Alert, and Training
The strafing pass at Bellows Field by the lone Zeke, and the initial reaction of the Field’s defenders, was little different from the initial reactions of defenders at all Hawaiian Air Force installations on Oahu that morning, and was rooted in the preparations for war and training the command had received in the intervening months since July 1941. Zeke pilot Lieutenant Tadashi Kaneko was undoubtedly reconnoitering Bellows to learn if there were fighters deployed at the Field, intending to pass the information to the second wave. The Japanese were determined to first deal a hammer blow to the fighter and long range reconnaissance forces resident on Oahu, to protect the Japanese strike force - including the slower Vals and Kates - which would shatter the fleet and long range bomber and reconnaissance forces at Hickam and Kaneohe. The Army was far more concerned about sabotage than any other threat, such as air attack by two waves of Japanese carrier based aircraft.
With a philosophy that reflected his experience, Lieutenant General Walter C. Short, commanding general of the Hawaiian Department, demanded training in the basic infantry duties and skills for Hawaiian Air Force personnel not involved in flying. To accomplish this, the Department published a standing operating procedure in July that set up a six-to-eight week schedule in basic infantry training. When General George C. Marshall, Chief of Staff, questioned training Army Air Forces personnel as infantrymen, General Short countered that an enemy would not attack the Hawaiian Islands until after it had destroyed American air power and with the aircraft destroyed, large numbers of Hawaiian Air Force personnel would be available for infantry duty. Furthermore, General Short felt that the Hawaiian Air Force was overstaffed and more than half, or 3,885 out of 7,229 personnel, could be used as infantry after the invasion started. (By 7 December, Hawaiian Air Force strength was 7,460.) He stated the training was to give these people something to do during exercises. General Short did not believe in using infantry to protect Hawaiian Air Force personnel who had nothing to do but sit around.
After setting up a program to insure all personnel would be trained to defend the island against a possible invasion, General Short began an intensive effort to protect the facilities against possible sabotage from the large Japanese population living on Oahu. To this end he created three alert levels aimed at providing the most appropriate defense response based on the forms of attack he believed the island would receive. Significantly, the first level, Alert Level One - and the one the Department was in on 7 December - was sabotage alert. During Alert One, ammunition not needed for immediate training would be boxed and stored in central locations difficult for an enemy to reach and destroy.
Thus, when the attack began, most antiaircraft ammunition was boxed and stored far away from the gun locations. At Wheeler Field, maintenance personnel not only removed the machine gun ammunition from the aircraft, they removed it from the belts so it could be boxed and stored in one location. Further, the aircraft were parked wing-tip to wing-tip, in neat rows on the ramp, instead of being dispersed into the approximately 125 earthen revetments constructed at Wheeler.
After being notified about an impending air attack against Hawaii, the Hawaiian Department would go to Alert Two. At this level, measures used in Alert One would remain in effect. In addition, personnel would activate the Air Warning Center, arm fighter aircraft and place them on alert; launch long-range reconnaissance, and arm and deploy antiaircraft units.
From this intermediate level, the entire Hawaiian Department would go to Alert Three when invasion seemed imminent. At Level Three, the command functions would move to underground facilities and available personnel would deploy to prepared beach defenses. General Short immediately decreed Alert Three after the 7 December attack began.11
The Alert Level One paralysis of no ammunition at the ready - plus no prior plan to disperse aircraft - rendered General Short’s order meaningless in the face of the slashing, deadly air attack. Over the remaining military airfields, selected harbor installations and ships moored in Pearl Harbor, the first Zekes, Vals and Kates swarmed from multiple directions and altitudes. Startled, at-first-uncertain and disbelieving men on the ground and aboard ships, all disciplined and trained to respond in a crisis, and fight, were momentarily puzzled. Then they saw bombs or torpedoes released, the white-hot blinking of machine guns and 20-mm canons, the flash of orange insignia - “meatballs” - on the underside of wings or the sides of fuselages, heard a few shouted warnings, the roar of low flying airplanes, and the violent explosions of bombs or torpedoes in the stunning few moments before reality struck home. In the normal preparations for Sunday morning breakfast, church services, a weekend of liberty, lowered crew manning, absence of warning, and low defense alert condition, disaster quickly flourished.
While torpedoes, bombs, cannon fire and machine gun bullets tore into the attackers’ primary target, the Pacific Fleet, setting off thunderous explosions, starting numerous fires, and a huge, all-consuming inferno on the battleship Arizona, the men on Army Air Force, Navy and Marine Corps airfields suffered their own brand of hell. Before one hour and forty-five minutes passed, total Army Air Force casualties on Oahu climbed to 163 killed, 336 wounded, and 43 missing. Of these, Hickam Field’s losses were 121 killed, 274 wounded, and 37 missing. Out of 231 Hawaiian Air Force aircraft, 64 were destroyed, 93 damaged and only 74 were left in repairable condition. Hangars at both Hickam and Wheeler were severely damaged. An aircraft repair station in Hickam’s Hawiian Air Depot was completely destroyed.12
Kate torpedo-bombers charged low across the water from the southeast and east, after passing at 50 feet altitude southeast of Hickam Field’s hangar line, and past the south and north ends of Ford Island across the harbor from the west toward the main dock and ships in the north harbor, while other torpedo-bombers pressing in from the east and southeast unleashed devastating attacks on the battleships and other ships in the harbor. Val dive bombers and Kate horizontal bombers from the northeast and southwest almost simultaneously launched shattering dive-bomb and fighter attacks on aircraft and hangar facilities on Hickam Field, Ford Island, and nearby Marine Corps’ Mooring Mast Field at Ewa - while to the northwest, Wheeler Field took staggering blows beginning moments following the assault on NAS Kaneohe Bay.
Disbelief, Bombs and Falling Antiaircraft Rounds
To those living on the island’s military installations, were residents in the surrounding hills, or tourists or vacationers who witnessed from a distance, or even close-up, first came curiosity borne of unfamiliar, confusing sights and sounds on a Sunday morning after a night of relaxing fun and, for the military and island residents, memories of months of drills. People living on Oahu had frequently seen extended military maneuvers punctuated with military police cars and jeep-led truck convoys of soldiers and towed artillery pieces moving on Oahu’s roads, and columns of great ships of war sailing quietly, serenely in and out of Pearl Harbor. Military aircraft engaged in mock air defense exercises and gunnery training crisscrossing high above the island and over the water, and long range patrol aircraft leaving from their coastal moorings and airfields, looking for an enemy nearly all felt would strike thousands of miles to the southwest - preparations for war few believed in their hearts or minds would ever come to Hawaii.
From within Honolulu’s residential, commercial, tourist centers and luxury hotels, where people were having early morning breakfasts and planning a day of sight seeing and pleasure, thoughts of war were even further away. To them, the discovery, recognition, and comprehension of a peaceful island’s distant, deadly events came far more slowly. Their minds were riveted to a tranquil, south seas island paradise: motor launches, kayaks, fishing boats, yachts, sailboats, surfboards, swimming in the surf, island music, native music and hula dancers, fragrant leis, parties, exotic south sea and oriental restaurants, sumptuous island food; freighters, tankers, beautiful luxury liners plying in and out of the port of Honolulu, and the romantic lure of the growing air travel on the magnificent Pan American Clippers cycling in and out of Pearl City’s calm, sheltered moorings inside Pearl Harbor.
To all who were outdoors, the distant, muffled, thunder, curious geysers of water in the harbor and in the ocean south of Waikiki and Honolulu Harbor, plumes of black smoke near and in Pearl Harbor, followed by momentary silence before the distant specks of climbing, diving and maneuvering airplanes - came slowly into focus. Momentary silence, disbelief, uncertainty, denial; questions to the island residents, and complete, totally incorrect conclusions were the reactions, as eyes slowly lifted skyward then shifted down ever so slightly, straining to see what was occurring ten to twelve miles in the distance, on the water and land below the swirling specks.
Seventeen-year old Frederick K. Kamaka of Hawaiian, Chinese and Norwegian extraction, was a junior at Kamahameha High School for boys, a private high school endowed by the kings and queens of Hawaii through means of the Bishop Estate, which at that time, owned 1/11th of the total land area of the islands. As an eleemosynary institution, it was restricted to Hawaiians only in attendance, with the minimum requirement being one-quarter Hawaiian at this time. Fred, whose father had sent him to the school to learn the latest in the woodworking field, for the family’s growing ukulele manufacturing business, was “on duty” at the school that morning.
Kamahameha High School for boys was the closest thing to a true military institute and mechanical arts school that could be found in The Territory of Hawaii, and was similar to high school military institutes found on America’s mainland. The boys lived in a dormitory, wore uniforms every day, had reveille every morning, retreat formation for flag lowering in the late afternoon, and heard Taps played every evening, signaling lights out. The routine included academics, drills and ceremonies - and drill competition - scheduled meals in the school dining hall, athletics, Sunday morning church services for religious training and morals education, and Sunday afternoon parades. Leading and managing the military education and training was an active duty Army officer, Lieutenant Ainsley Mahikoa, the resident professor of military science and tactics.
The morning of 7 December, Fred was at the usual Sunday morning breakfast, anticipating 10:00 a.m. church services, and the afternoon parade. The cadets sitting at his table were discussing the parade, knowing competition between companies would be keen this year. The parade and competition was especially important to Fred, as he was assigned to lead his squad for the company competition. Classmate Rowland Melim and Fred were dining room orderlies for the month, required to see that each assigned waiter cleared the tables after the breakfast meal and set up for lunch before being released to return to their dormitories to prepare for church and get their uniforms ready for the afternoon parade.
After securing the dining hall, the two left for their respective dormitories. Fred lived in the Kamehameha Dormitory, and as he crossed Bishop Hall Field, his thoughts dwelt directly on the fast approaching afternoon parade and his role as squad leader in the important competition. He felt strongly the rest of his company expected his squad to win. On reaching the Assembly Hall at the east end of Bishop Hall, he climbed atop the wall in front of the Hall, and as was his custom each morning, gazed at the view stretching before him.
His eyes swept from Diamond Head on the eastern end, past Waikiki Beach with numerous sailboats in the ocean, the dormant volcano crater, Punchbowl, the important places in downtown Honolulu, then past Aloha Tower where he could see two freighters waiting outside the entrance to Honolulu Harbor for a pilot to come take them into the harbor and dock. Finally his eyes came to rest on Hickam Field, about six miles distant, where he hoped to see some planes “taking off” but was disappointed. None were, though many were parked in rows on the concrete apron in front of the hangars.
Glancing westward past Pearl Harbor and the ships moored there, his gaze took him to Ewa Plantation’s sugar cane fields and the Waianae Mountain Range that rose beyond Ewa. At that moment his eyes were attracted by a glint of reflected sunlight from an airborne mirror or metal sheet, from a northerly direction, above the mountain range. Looking closely, he noticed formations of planes arranged in the traditional “V” flight configuration, approaching the patch of clouds directly over Hickam Field and Pearl Harbor.
Suddenly, when the formation reached a point directly above the cloud mass, they began diving single file through the clouds toward Hickam Field and Pearl Harbor. The previous week, students and townspeople had seen some of the joint US service maneuvers being conducted, to include mock bombing of Honolulu Harbor on Friday, by planes from our aircraft carriers. After such exercises they usually landed at Ford Island, in the middle of Pearl Harbor. At first, Fred assumed the planes diving toward Hickam Field and Pearl Harbor were “our returning US planes.” His attention and observant curiosity turned to surprise, then later to shock, when “puffs of dust” rose from the ground under the swooping planes over Hickam Field, and sounds of explosions rent the quiet Sunday morning.
As though Fred were watching and listening to distant lightning strikes and thunderstorms, he saw the puffs appear, followed nearly 30 seconds later by the sounds of muffled explosions, not thunder - the first at 7:55 a.m. While he was engrossed in the distant sights and sounds, Lieutenant Ainsley Mahikoa drove up in front of Bishop Hall, dressed in a civilian suit for church services. He came by to check his office’s mail distribution box en route. When the lieutenant returned outside, a group of students was gathering, their attention drawn to events at Hickam Field and Pearl Harbor, and the lieutenant, curious as to what they were eyeing, joined them. Fred pointed out what appeared to be burning planes on the Hickam Field apron, visible bomb bursts on the ground, a sky filled with diving planes, and the faint sound of machine guns firing.
After watching the action for a moment, Lieutenant Mahikoa turned to Fred and said, “More maneuvers.” He then went on to explain to all the students gathered, “The planes are probably from the carrier fleet which is absent from Pearl Harbor. Holes are dug into the ground and dynamite set off to simulate bomb bursts, and they are using smoke pots on the Hickam Field area instead of burning airplanes to make the action more realistic.”
The crowd continued to gather, and students were now at their dorm windows, watching. About six minutes elapsed before all the guns at Pearl Harbor began to fire. Smoke puffs in the air began appearing, the first markers of flak bursts. As they watched from in front of Kamahameha High School, two planes were shot down in flames and others crashed into the water and on land. Fred excitedly pointed out to Mahikoa, “Look, we’re shooting down our own planes.”
