December 7 Continued

This is continued from yesterday’s post.

”I was sure that the whole ship had been blown out from under me. I wouldn’t let go of that pipe because I couldn’t see the floor. When the smoke cleared, I found myself about three inches from the floor. I just reached my toe down and stood up on the deck,” he smiles.

The order to abandon ship bellowed out of the smoke and fire. When Smith reached the upper deck he was met with an incredible sight.

”As I walked out of the hatch to the stern of the ship, where they had the boats to take us off, I remember looking out on the edge of the ship and seeing rows of pairs of shoes. Apparently, the guys who had come up to jump over the side had taken off their shoes before abandoning ship. The shoes were all lined around the ship, just like they were ready for inspection.”

Smith and his shipmates shared several unforgettable sights that December morning: The sickening sight, by his description, of the Oklahoma lying completely over on her side. The burning wreckage of the Arizona, where more than 1,000 men lost their lives. But most shocking of all was the realization of who was doing the bombing.

”The first thing I thought when the bombing began was – Germans. There was no doubt in my mind that it was Germany. There was no thought that it was Japan. It was really a shock to spot the planes with the ‘rising sun’ emblem on them,” Smith said.

”It was unbelievable. I had no idea that Japan was capable of such an attack. Being the average guy who reads the papers, I figured that Japan had her hands full in the Far East,” he explains.

The launches took the men from the California to shore in Honolulu. Here the wounded were transferred to the hospital. Smith recounts some of his recollections.

”During the bombing, we were near the galley and the China was shattered. I remembered picking pieces of China out of my legs and arms for weeks after that. In the hospital that night we were awakened by anti-aircraft fire. It turned out to be some of our planes that we shot down. Everyone was tense, and someone got trigger-happy and scared. We had rumors running through the hospital about landing parties on the shore, but they weren’t true.”

Smith suffered a cut on his head and some shrapnel injuries. By his own estimate, he was fortunate.

Not so fortunate was the Pacific Fleet.

Aside from the ship and aircraft losses, the human loss was the worst of all. A total of 2,403 people were killed, of whom 68 were civilians. Another 1,178 sailors, soldiers, and civilians were wounded.

Art Smith finds no pleasure in his recollections of this cataclysmic event. As he sits in his comfortable Angwin home, he recalls the loss of one of his good friends, his superior officer.

Chief Radio Officer James T. Reeves was posthumously awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for his courage that day. Reeves died while, on his own initiative, ran through the burning wreckage of the ship delivering ammunition to the guns by hand. The ship’s mechanical ammo hoists were not operable. Reeves was overcome by fire and smoke on the burning vessel.

As he looks back on the event, Smith recounts two things that he believes saved his life.

”I think the immediate thing that saved my life was that the hatch was jammed open in the radio room. If it had closed on battle stations, we would have been entombed in that room. Secondly, the fact that we were in the harbor instead of at sea saved our lives. We would have died for sure in the open sea and all of the ships would have been lost.”

One occurrence has special significance for Smith, a Seventh-Day Adventist for six years.

”When we reached the upper deck during the bombing, I remember looking out across the ship. I spotted a sailor in one corner of the ship kneeling down. I knew he was praying. It was odd, though. I didn’t know anyone on the ship knew how to pray. As I look back on it today, I know this man was the most sensible on the ship that day.”

Find me here!

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