Several years ago while serving in the Navy Reserve I was in Hawaii for
training. One Sunday morning I put on
my dress white cracker jack uniform, I even wore my favorite dog dish hat that
I had carefully rolled the edges just right to look like a salty sailor and
headed across Pearl Harbor (the base) from Arizona Hall where I was staying to
the USS Arizona Memorial. It was crowded being a Sunday morning, a few boats of
visitors had been ferried across to the memorial. As I went across on the ferry
I was the only person in uniform other than the two crew members a petty
officer and a seaman. I waited to be last to exit the ferry. As I exited I looked
down into the water and for the first time gained perspective of the size of
the Arizona. I felt a somber peace come over me as I walked up the ramp to the
memorial. It was nearly silent even though there were probably 60 people there.
I walked across the memorial to the wall of names. There was a Pearl Harbor
survivor there visiting staring at the names on the wall. I could tell he was a
Pearl Harbor survivor by the Hawaiian shirt and the garrison cap (piss
splitter) denoting him as a Pearl Harbor Survivor from BB-44 the USS California,
The same ship that my mother’s uncle Kenny would later die on near the end of
the war. As he stood watching I noticed it was just he and I and everyone else
had moved back. Without thinking about it, I snapped to attention and rendered
a ceremonious salute to the wall of service men that died that day. Standing
just feet over the very watery grave of the 1102 sailors entombed in the USS
Arizona BB-39. It was a powerful and emotional moment for me. Suddenly the
Pearl Harbor Survivor standing just a few feet away snapped a tidy salute in a ceremonious tempo. I
pulled my salute and did a tidy about face, but in a ceremonious tempo and started to walk back to the ferry
with very foggy eyes. The Vet called out to me, “Shipmate” (In the Navy
everyone is your shipmate young or old, it’s like calling someone brother) I
stopped and turned around. He reached out to shake my hand. I reached back and
he said “Thank you”. Feeling wholly inadequate I responded with a crackling voice “No, thank you… for
your service... and... sacrifice” He smiled and embraced me. The conversation was
rich and memorable as we talked. It was not the official Memorial Day we
celebrate in May, but for me it was ever so memorial. Happy Memorial Day, and
thank you to those that served, all gave some, some gave all.
