The fourth of July 1942

Living just outside a naval air station can have its disadvantages, but on the fourth of July there is something profoundly American about seeing (and hearing) the planes fly overhead. While walking my dog late this evening, I realized how accustomed I have become to the sounds of the planes. I don't bother looking up after two years of hearing them pass by. What I never considered before was how each citizen living near a navel air station would have the same experience as me. Most specifically the people of Pearl City, and maybe even on island of Oahu, would have known the sounds of "their" planes because of Pearl Harbor. The consideration of how profoundly disturbing it would have been to hear the wrong plane fly overhead at the wrong time, on the wrong day had never completely sunk in before. Sunday's mornings at 7:51am, I am very unlikely to hear a plane fly over head let alone 5 or 10. The fear that it would instill in me, to first hear a different engine, see a different flight pattern and then to go outside and see the foreign flag on a plane is more then I can imagine. Sunday, December 7th, 1941, 7:55 am, over 3,500 people died, and it was all over by 10:00 am. A day when the children on and around Ford island saw their parents fall and stand up again to a difficult enemy, fear.