Glen H. Berg US Navy USS Pennsylvania |
On that quiet Sunday morning, I was in our washroom on the dry-dock talking to a shipmate about his experience in China. He glanced out the window as we were talking and exclaimed, "Those look like Jap planesThey are Jap planes!" I looked out and saw planes diving at Ford Island. I have no memory of the sound, but I do have a vivid recollection of the rising sun reflected on the wings as they passed over head. I flew from that washroom to the Pennsylvania, charged up the gangway, and then up the ladder to the boat deck. As I looked up, I saw seven bombers overhead coming down the channel. Our anti-aircraft gun crews already had them under fire as they began to release their bombs. Racing up the port ladder to my battle station on the top of the main mast, I opened the hatch and saw part of the starboard boat deck blowing past me. As main battery director operator, I took my seat and searched for surface ships. There were none in sight. The main battery guns were useless against an air attack. From the vantage point I had at 115 feet above the water line, I could see everything, but do nothing except watch the incredible devastation occurring all around me. Where are our planes? I looked up toward Army Airbase Hickam Field and it seemed that everything was on fire. Nothing was in the air! As I turned around again, a Jap plane flew across our stern so close I could see the pilot. He released a torpedo toward the Oklahoma across the channel. The ship rose out of the water and then turned over. This made me suddenly aware of my own perilous position as I watched to see if anyone got out of their mast that was in my same position. I couldn't tell! There was no time to dwell on the matter, as orders were shouted over the phone to flood magazines. The dry-dock was on fire but there was no water to put the fires out. Our supply from shore had been cut off. Suddenly the thought crossed my mind that we might be shot out of the mast. There was a powerful vibration and loud noise. But looking toward the source I saw the Nevada was underway. She was close to us and was firing her broadside battery as she headed out toward the channel. Suddenly looming over our port quarter was a large airplane. Someone identified it as a B17, yet it appeared the Nevada was firing at it. When she got a little farther out toward the channel, her whole foremast appeared to go up in flames. I figures she must have gotten hit. She then just ran herself aground. As I watched her, I saw a few Jap planes smoking and heading toward the water as they flew across. After a time, it was quiet. I was then ordered to go down to AA Battery and help handle ammunition. As soon as it was allowed, I went below to our compartment to see what the extent of damage was in lower decks. Oil was everywhere. The effects of a bomb, which exploded above, could be seen by the broken oil lines. There were gouged out impressions in the armored deck from the force of the shrapnel. I remember in the midst of all this chaos, a British officer who'd been an observer on board was just sitting in a compartment crying. Who knows what he must have been feeling? We were the hope of the British. My own strongest feelings about the situation were of anger and disgust. But emotional reactions had no place at this time. There was still too much to do. My next orders were to go to the third deck and help carry wounded on stretchers, to the second deck. Rumors were rampant throughout the rest of the day. We stayed on alert as more warnings came in, but there were no more planes. Thank God. That night I was the radar operator on the eight o'clock to twelve o'clock watch. We were notified that some of our carrier planes were coming in to Ford Island. As they were making their approach over Diamond Head, we reported to the bridge they were on course. All of a sudden our AA guns opened fire. I ran to the door and watched some of our own planes going down in flames, apparently from our own guns. That watch which finished without further incident, ended one of my longest and darkest days in the Navy. |
