News

A quiet respect but let it be 'never again'

  • Published
  • By Dr. Robert Allen
  • 352nd Special Operations Group historian
It was a quiet and sunny day as our boat chugged across Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, to where the USS Arizona had been berthed on "Battleship Row." The atmosphere aboard the tour boat was probably much like it was on the U.S. Navy "liberty boats" taking off-duty sailors across the harbor 50 years before on a quiet and sunny Sunday in late 1941.

Our cheerful and noisy group of tourists seemed oblivious to what was happening outside the confines of our boat as we drew close to where the USS Arizona was now berthed for eternity. I can remember looking at the Ko'olau Mountains about 10 miles to the north, and wondering how many of those relaxed sailors of long ago even noticed the aircraft swarming around the mountains and getting into position for attack.

The chatter among our group stopped as our tour boat touched the small dock that serves as the entry point to the large white marble memorial that is positioned just above the resting place of our most famous loss from the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.

Instructions on proper conduct from the tour guide were few, and mostly unnecessary. We all instinctively felt that we were in a special place of great loss that deserved respect, and people talked in the low, hushed tones usually reserved for cathedrals and other holy places.

This sense of loss and respect also seemed to affect the small group of Japanese from our tour boat. It struck me that, unlike World War II, there was no animosity between the Americans and the Japanese in our group. Time can do a lot to heal old hatreds.

Being in a special place that "surrounds" the visitor mentally can often change your perception of time. Even though I was on the memorial for less than an hour, I felt like it had been longer. It seemed as if the years had flown back six decades, carrying me to the tragedy and horror of Dec. 7, 1941. All that time had certainly not dimmed the memory of that day for the survivors of the huge explosion that shattered the Arizona.

More than 200, of a crew numbering 1,400, lived to fight on. Many are now exercising a unique privilege to have their ashes scattered on the water above the U.S.S. Arizona, rejoining their old shipmates in spirit.

After our boat left the U.S.S. Arizona, we had a short cruise around the rest of Ford Island, located next to Battleship Row and near the center of Pearl Harbor.

Conversations started up again, but not quite as loud as before. Our group listened more attentively to the tour guide as she told the stories of the other ships that were damaged in the 1941 attack.

The people, the weapons and the national commitment of the United States in World War II had become more alive for many in our group. I am sure that the impact of that memorial stayed fresh in many minds long after their holiday trip to Hawaii was over.

Another place, far from the U.S.S. Arizona in distance and time, seemed to have the same kind impact on me as well others who visited the site with me in 2002. It was also the scene of a shocking attack on a sunny day by a foreign enemy who hated America.

Near the southern tip of Manhattan in New York City, the two tall World Trade Center towers were hit by hijacked airliners flown by terrorists. The large aircraft were full of innocent passengers, as well as enough fuel to melt and collapse the cores of the buildings from the resulting fires.

Sept. 11, 2001 became another of those rare dates remembered by people in all walks of life, not just historians. Other American airliners were hijacked and crashed into the Pentagon and the Pennsylvania countryside by suicidal extremists as well on 9/11, but the majority of the dead and most of the media coverage was centered in New York.

By the time I visited the WTC in 2002, nine months after the attack, a makeshift memorial area had developed around the small St. Paul's Chapel across the street from the World Trade Center.

The metal grill fence around the building was festooned with notes expressing peoples' feelings, boards displaying collections of badges from police and fire departments around the country, pictures of missing attack victims and even some bouquets of flowers. Visitors were standing in front of the displays, discussing them and pointing out mementos from towns or people that they knew.

Conversations died down to whispers as visitors walked up the ramp to the temporary observation platform overlooking the World Trade Center site. People walked around slowly and quietly, just staring at the huge hole in the face of America's largest city.

Debris from the collapsed office towers had been cleared away, leaving a space about four by two city blocks in size and several stories deep.

The World Trade Center site in New York and Battleship Row in Hawaii share other things besides their effect on visitors. They are about the same size in area, and they are both the site of the tragic and spectacular deaths of between 2,400 and 2,800 people.

The events that happened at both of these places alerted Americans that we were at war with determined enemies.

We at RAF Mildenhall know that we are still at war with a global enemy, because we are part of the force engaged in supporting, fighting and surviving that battle. We also know that the battle can happen "downtown" in England, as well as "downrange" in the Middle East.

On Dec. 7, as on Sept. 11 every year, let's renew our commitment to do all we can to prevent another surprise disaster to our country and our people: "Never again!"