Most devastating, Americans simply underestimated the Japanese. Too many search planes had been diverted to the Atlantic theater. Although the disaster destroyed the careers of both the Navy and the Army commanders on Oahu, exhaustive investigations made it clear that its causes went beyond any individual in Hawaii or Washington, D.C. Navy’s history and the shock of a lifetime for just about any American who had achieved the age of memory. The attack on Pearl Harbor, 80 years ago this month, was the worst day in the U.S. Joseph Lockard spotted “the largest group I had ever seen” on the radar unit. It was just past 7 in the morning on December 7, 1941. The unknown swarm was inbound, closing at two miles a minute over the shimmering blue of the vacant sea, coming directly at Joe and George. Whoever they were, the planes were 137 miles out, just east of due north. The privates did not know what to do in those first minutes, or even if they should do anything. He took back the seat at the screen and ran checks to make sure the image was not some electronic mirage. “It was the largest group I had ever seen on the oscilloscope,” said Joe. And this spike did not suggest two or three, but an astonishing number-50 maybe, or even more. But the height of a spike gave a rough indication of the number of aircraft. Their device could not tell its operators precisely how many planes the antenna was sensing, or if they were American or military or civilian. If it had been turned off, the screen could not have spiked. If George had not wanted to practice, the set might have been turned off. On their machine, a contact did not show up as a glowing blip in the wake of a sweeping arm on a screen, but as a spike rising from a baseline on the five-inch oscilloscope, like a heartbeat on a monitor. “He was looking over my shoulder and could see it also,” George said. As George checked the scope, Joe passed along wisdom about operating it. The truck that would shuttle them to breakfast would be along soon. Their duty done, George, who was new to the unit, took over the oscilloscope for a few minutes of time-killing practice. George and Joe had detected nothing interesting during the early-morning scan. He wore a headset connecting him to Army headquarters. George, who was 23 and had joined the Army in Chicago, was prepared to plot contacts on a map overlay and enter them in a log. Joe, who was 19 and from Williamsport, Pennsylvania, was in charge of the Opana station that morning, and worked the oscilloscope. The country had not been at war since November 11, 1918, the day the Great War ended, and the local monthly, Paradise of the Pacific, had just proclaimed Hawaii “a world of happiness in an ocean of peace.” 45-caliber pistols and a handful of bullets. Between them, George and Joe had a couple of. The mobile units would detect them and plot their locations. Often with the coming of first light and then into the morning, Army and Navy planes would rise from inland bases to train or scout. “I mean, it was more practice than anything else,” George would recall. The two privates had been ordered out there for training. George and Joe had no idea why that window of time was significant. to 7 a.m., sit inside the monitoring van as the antenna scanned for planes. The order of the day was to keep vandals and the curious away from the equipment during a 24-hour shift and, from 4 a.m. An Army general called it the “vacant sea.” ![]() But between the privates and Alaska, 2,000 miles away, there was nothing but wavy liquid, a place of few shipping lanes and no islands. Army headquarters was on the other side of the island, as was the Navy base at Pearl Harbor, the most important American base in the Pacific. It sat at Opana, 532 feet above a coast whose waves were enticing enough to surf, which is what many a tourist would do there in years to come. George and Joe’s, the most reliable of the bunch, was emplaced farthest north. Half a dozen mobile units-generator truck, monitoring truck, antenna and trailer-had been scattered around the island in recent weeks. Radar was still in its infancy, far from what it would become, but the privates could still spot things farther out than anyone ever had with mere binoculars or telescope. Lockard had awakened in their tent at 3:45 in the caressing warmth of an Oahu night and gotten their radar fired up and scanning 30 minutes later. The dawn watch had been as pacific as the ocean at their feet.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |