An official website of the United States government
A .mil website belongs to an official U.S. Department of Defense organization in the United States.
A lock (lock ) or https:// means you’ve safely connected to the .mil website. Share sensitive information only on official, secure websites.

Hickam honors legacy, pays tribute to storied past

  • Published
  • By Staff Sgt. Mike Meares
  • 15th Wing Public Affairs
JOINT BASE PEARL HARBOR-HICKAM, Hawaii --  At 7:55 a.m., some 70 years ago, lives on the sleepy island of Oahu were forever changed by an attacking force. Hickam took a living glimpse into a storied past filled with heroism, honor and valor on historic ground Dec. 7.

On the very site Old Glory never left her post, where men like Joseph Jedrysik, of Manchester, N.H., bravely fought and died defending her, Hickam Field survivors, Airmen and their families gathered at Hickam's historic flag pole for the 70th Remembrance Ceremony to honor those men and women who fought for America's freedom on Dec. 7, 1941.

Seated on the front row as honored guests were 10 men Gen. Gary North, Pacific Air Forces commander, called "warriors, survivors and absolute heroes."

"To our veterans here today and to our veterans who are here in spirit, we say thank you for your service, for defending our way of life, for defending our freedom, and defending our national colors." said Col. Sam Barrett, 15th Wing commander. "We draw great strength from all of you. We recognize that you place a sacred trust in those of us who wear the uniform today, and we vow never to let you down. You are the foundation upon which our United States Air Force stands so very strong today."

Coinciding with a ceremony at the Arizona Memorial to mark the time the attacks began, the Hickam ceremony featured a performance of "Lest We Forget," a song written by Chief Master Sgt. Larry MacTaggart, by the Band of the Pacific's Hana Hou. Four 19th and 199th Fighter Squadron F-22s flew a four-ship missing man formation during the song. As one of the Raptor's climbed toward the heavens, disappearing into the clouds, the Hickam honor guard prepared to raise a flag to half staff. A light sprinkling rain began to fall, as if the heavens were mourning the men being honored, which is a Hawaiian blessing.

"I think it's fitting for those of you who know the Hawaiian traditions that we are being sprinkled on from the heavens," North said.

An unannounced military strike by the Japanese against the U.S. naval base and Army Air Corps air fields thrust the U.S. into World War II. The largest airborne force ever assembled by the Imperial Japanese Navy launched from the decks of aircraft carriers with the intent of crippling the aerial assets and fleet anchored at Pearl Harbor. There was very little air opposition because they furiously struck Hickam, Wheeler and Bellows fields.

"Seventy years ago, you were forced to go to war when you were attacked by an enemy who sought to destroy your ability, along with your will to fight back," he said. "They sought to destroy the aircraft that were here on the ramps of Hickam Field and the other air bases across the island of Oahu.

"They sought, in Pearl Harbor, to strike a devastating blow to our ships and our men and women in port," he continued. "They sought to destroy each one of our Soldiers, our Sailors, our Airmen and our Marines in service here in Oahu; and more importantly, they sought to destroy the American Spirit, hoping to win what they would call a very quick victory by making your families and fellow Americans retreat in fear, and to refuse to fight back. Oh how they underestimated America, and the American men and women in uniform and our civilian citizens."

"While you initially had limited means to which to fight back, they could never destroy your will," the general said addressing the 10 men in the front row.

Stories of heroism provided a glimpse into the past; men sitting here, re-living in their minds the first wave of attacks from the windows in their homes and dormitory, and immediately recognizing the call of duty.

A buck private, Frank Karas was sleeping in that Sunday morning, rather than heading for the chow hall. It was a decision he believes saved his life. At about 8 a.m., a Japanese dive bomber scored a direct hit on the barracks near the main entrance of the chow hall, killing as many as 35 Airmen having breakfast. The blast awoke Karas, and he quickly put on his clothes and assisted in transferring and distributing ordnances and ammunition from the storage bunkers during the hailstorms of bombs and bullets from enemy planes.

"It brings back many memories, many memories of all the things that have happened," Karas said. "I only wish there were more of us. Too many of us are dying. It was a tough day. We just go on, go on; it's all you can do."

Max Baker, then a private, was lying in bed considering what he wanted for breakfast. When he heard the first explosions, he thought it might be the Navy practicing. Situated below a window in the 3,200-man barracks, he sat up in bed and saw a low flying plane with a giant red "meatball" on the wing.

After the first wave of attacks, he ran to the flight line and saw that most of the B-17s were destroyed. There was an undamaged airplane a short distance from the hangars, so he and two others ran out to the plane when the second wave of Japanese planes swooped in on them. Lying face down on the runway, the strafing bullets hit all around, never touching any of them.

After the air raid, Baker returned to his dorm and found that a bomb had penetrated the barracks roof, third floor and detonated on a delayed fuse on the second level, killing two. The only personal items remaining were a pair of rolled up socks and a bloody Bible riddled with pock marks from debris. His grandmother and aunt inscribed the Bible, "Give God the morning's first minutes and He will bless the day's long hours."

Dan Jones, then a staff sergeant, stood near base operations and watched as a formation of planes heading for the base, back dropped by a crystal clear blue sky, headed in his direction. A dive bomber peeled away from the formation, exposing the red dot underneath the plane's wings, identifying it as an attacking Japanese airplane. He watched as it dropped the first bomb on Hangar 35, which housed the Hawaiian Air Depot.

With only a .45-caliber pistol on his side, he pulled his weapon and fired, believing it was better to shoot than stand there and watch. Some believe he could possibly be the first to have fired any shots on the attacking force. He immediately ran back to barracks to wake up and warn his roommates. He then ran back to a hangar, grabbed a rifle and a .50-caliber water-cooled machine gun. After setting up the machine gun near the barracks, he ran to get bullets for it. When he returned, a young boy lay dead over the machine gun and it still had no ammunition.

As chaos erupted around him, high-altitude bombers dropped their payloads on the barracks, and he could hear the bomb's whistling sounds. Taking cover, he quickly hid in the shallow drain along the sidewalk. As bombs ripped through the barracks with a great force, one landed near him and knocked him out for a few minutes. Thinking he was dead, he said his body went numb he lost his hearing for an hour. With only a slightly injured leg, a higher-ranking NCO told him to go to the hospital. Once he arrived, he quickly realized there were too many others with more life-threatening injuries than his, so he left. Had he sought medical assistance, he might have been awarded a Purple Heart, but said he has no regrets.

"I lost a lot of friends and buddies at the time," said Louis Roffman, who was also still sleeping inside the barracks that morning. "I was in the barracks when it happened. When I came out of the barracks, it was the first time in my life I've ever seen a dead man. It appeared that they were sleeping on the parade grounds, but they were dead. Emotionally it hurts me."

North went on to describe how, on that fateful day, men leaped from their beds; manned machine guns in the parade field, on the flight line, and at the base of the flag pole; and shot back with whatever they had from .45 caliber pistols to rifles.

"Your families and your fellow Americans did not retreat in fear," he said. "They unleashed both their love and their support throughout America through hugs of a concerned spouse, through the letters of caring families, through the sale of war bonds, and through the commitment of a nation that knew you were fighting for our very freedoms."

To conclude the ceremony, members of Hickam and the local community laid wreaths and leis at the foot of the flag pole. The honor guard's rifle report from a three-volley salute resounded over Atterbury Circle, echoing off the bullet-scarred building nearby.
The general praised the men and their families present for guiding America from the early dark days of those events and leading by example to becoming well known as the "greatest generation."

"We are an Air Force that is strong today because of your strength in World War II," the general said. "We strive everyday to make sure that what you experienced will never happen again. And just as you took charge in World War II, our Airmen today work diligently around the clock and around the world to ensure the peace and prosperity that you earned us."

The white flag pole everyone gathered near carried a very torn and tattered flag when the day was finished in 1941. From a bird's eye view, the flag dangled in desolation, a witness to wide spread devestation, but stood tall as desperate men rallied. The flag never fell. Today, taps followed.