Remembering Pearl Harbor

The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941 was not only a turning point in the history of our nation, but a turning point in the history of my family. My grandfather, John Lewis Radford, was a sailor at the time and was stationed at the U.S. Navy base in Honolulu, Hawaii. Entry into World War II as a result of the strike would change the course of his life, along with that of his wife (my grandmother) and his two young daughters.

John had been raised in Asheville, North Carolina, during the Great Depression. At that time, Asheville was a small town bearing no resemblance to the flourishing tourist destination that it is today. The eldest in a family of nine children, he was dirt poor and had few opportunities. He escaped by joining the Navy in 1932. The Navy gave my grandfather chances that were hitherto inconceivable for a man of no resources - a way to see the world and achieve financial success.

My grandmother, Jessie B. Sluder, was not only the Salutatorian of her class at West Buncombe High School in Asheville, but was a hometown beauty courted by many. She waited for my grandfather's proposal however and was married in a blue dress directly following the service one Sunday at the Baptist church they attended in 1938. At the age of 24, she was considered practically an old maid.

For a young couple who had never traveled far, a posting to Hawaii - which had not yet been granted statehood - was an exotic adventure. By December of 1941, my grandparents had two young daughters: Susie (my mother) had been born two years previously and Betty (my aunt) had arrived in Oahu the following year. The family lived off-base within a few miles of Pearl Harbor. The air raids awoke them the morning of December 7^th around 8:00 am.

I wish I knew the details of what happened next, but my grandparents are both now deceased. As a young girl I asked my grandfather to tell me some exciting stories from World War II. He said that "war was a terrible thing" and he clearly did not want to discuss it. I do know that my grandmother, mother and aunt were sent back to Asheville to live with relatives while my grandfather went to battle in the Pacific on a submarine. The family was separated until the end of the war in 1945. My mother tells the story of seeing a young officer in uniform walking down the street and running to hug him, only to find out that it was not her father home from the war, but someone she didn't even know. The trauma of separation and uncertainty - it was, after all, long before the advent of email - made an indelible impression.

My grandfather survived to return home. The family then moved from one duty station to the next during his 27-year career, so that in the end my mother attended 16 schools before graduating. My grandmother packed and unpacked, making each new location home, until they finally ended up at Little Creek Amphibious Base in Norfolk, Virginia and settled for good.

The attack on Pearl Harbor was a tragic incident for my grandparents, who lost many friends. However, it was also the impetus that launched my grandfather's career. A man with no college education, he was able rise up to the rank of Lt. Commander in the Navy. The leadership skills that he acquired in wartime served him well in a second career as a Real Estate agent. My grandparents became faithful members both of the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association and Retired Submarine Veterans Association, keeping in touch with those who shared their unique history for many years.

Last June, I made my first trip to Hawaii and visited the Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor. The movie depicting the lead up to the Japanese invasion that is shown as part of the admission is educational and moving. The boat ride out to the sunken USS Arizona is equally impressive. I remembered my grandfather proudly, but more importantly, I have remembered his words that "war is a terrible thing". In my mind, all those who fought in WWII were heroes. So are all those who fight for peace today.