Palm trees and coconuts are plentiful. A light breeze passes through the air. A rich aroma of flowers and trees can be discerned with a simple whiff of the air. However, today calls to mind a solemnity and remembrance of a series of tragic events. The first real destination on my vacation to visit family is a trip to the USS Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor. December 7, 1941 is a day immortally described by President Franklin Roosevelt as a “day which will live in infamy.” History teaches us that on that day the Empire of Japan attacked the United States Pacific Naval fleet at Pearl Harbor in two waves of attacks. The losses were extraordinary and unparalleled in our nation’s history to that point.
My cousin and I were dropped off at the entrance to the memorial park. I picked up our tickets and waited for my aunt to come. Our scheduled ferry ride to the memorial was almost 3 and a half hours later than our arrival time. So we had some time to pass before we were taken to the memorial. We filled this time by passing through the museums and the exhibits. One in particular was the USS Bowfin. This was one of the first “modern naval submarines.” This exhibit set the stage for my reflection on the whole event of visiting this memorial park. The Bowfin allowed me to place myself in the early 40s. I was able to envision what life would have been like for a sailor in the Navy at that time. The various museum exhibits only enhanced my reflection. So lets start at the beginning.
At about 30 minutes prior to our scheduled time, we queued up for the tour. It began with a short film about the history of the ship and the overview of the whole Pearl Harbor attack. Anybody can watch a documentary on an event. The USS Arizona memorial is different. I knew it from before I stepped into the line to begin the tour. Given my prior combat experience, I know a little about explosions. I sat across the harbor today and peered at the memorial. I could see in my mind the Arizona moored in its majesty. I could also imagine someone standing in my position the morning of December 7, 1941. The dive bomber who would have hit the Arizona with a munition that would have caused the armaments on board to also explode and create a smoke plume 500 feet high would have been clearly visible flying so low on Battleship row. The explosion would have been deafening and would have rocked anyone on the shoreline. The mercy of God would have been for the souls who perished immediately. The ship sank immediately. There were many souls who perished on board who could not escape the water. Their souls spoke to me today. They called out to me in a whisper and an echo. One soul spoke louder than all the others. While I was on the memorial, I looked at the wall of the names of all the sailors and marines who lost their lives on the USS Arizona on December 7, 1941 and one name was burned into my mind. “F.E. Nye s1c.” At the end of my day, I had to google this man. His full name was Frank Erskine Nye and he was a Seaman First Class. He was 20 years old when he was killed in the attack. I don’t know if I am related to this man. I am sure it is unlikely. However, the search also showed me that the Nye family has given many men to service and some received the honor giving their lives.
The memorial made the events of December 7, 1941 present for me. I stood in the open air on the memorial just above the ship. I stood mere feet from the deck of the Arizona. Men who lost their lives on that fateful day were entombed just below my feet. I looked down and could see with my eyes the remains of a ship that once floated magnanimously in that harbor. And today we stood above it. Remembering the horrors of war and desperation. That day produced many heroes. I wonder how many heroes were stripped of their ability to demonstrate their valor and fidelity to country. Now their names are echoes that become fainter every day. One voice not heard in almost 70 years calls my name. I stood there in the memorial nearly overcome to think of someone whose name possibly shares my blood.
The memorial called to mind the harbor. The attack would have created a most unfortunate smell and sight. Burning rubber and burning human flesh crossed with smoke and debris. The beaches were probably stained red with the blood of the fallen who were launched into the harbor. This would have been the war zone that should have never been. History changes little. The memorial is more than just names carved into a wall of pretty stone. There are still pieces of the ship that protrude above the water. They are aged with rust but still they tell a story. The eyes can see where the ship came to rest. The ears can make out the waves and the birds. These sounds which would have been native to the harbor for ages upon ages would have been interrupted by propellor engines, gunshots, torpedoes and, most disturbing, the sounds of cries and screams. Today, the sounds of the waves and birds return Pearl Harbor to a setting that beguiles the mind. Standing upon the memorial, the sounds of peace are betrayed by the other senses. You can see the ship underneath you in the water. And the most telling is the smell of the oil which is still leaking from the ship. On the memorial, if one is not paying attention or does not venture too deep into the memorial, this smell could be over looked but not from the viewing area near the opposite side as the dock. The smell will remain with me for a very long time.
The price of freedom is born most by the ones who give their lives for it. My service today pales in comparison to the men who gave their lives. Today, I remember Frank Nye. Seaman First Class on the Arizona. His service is commemorated in our freedom.
No comments:
Post a Comment