 Navy Departments present December 7th. Repeat the last paragraph I gave you, Miss Kim. Certainly, Uncle Sam. For tropical beauty, and are not excluded in the opposite sex, this little island of Oahu has not paid as a vacation land. Fine. You paragraph. Imagine the transition, Jonathan. You hop a clipper in San Francisco and in less than 24 hours, you're in paradise. Silence is the endless ringing of the telephone. Banished are messes, hurray, scurry, worry, and company. Inaudible, the hub above labor disputes. Gone, the nerve-wracking feeling that the world in general is a whirling mess and that America in particular can't make up its mind which way it wants to spin, if at all. Yes, sir, Jonathan, when your corns begin to ache and bite, there's only one thing to do. Take your shoes off. And that's just exactly what I've done. On a flower-covered hilltop in Honolulu, T.H., Territory of Heaven, Hawaii, romantic mystical Hawaii, where the air is choked with the fragrance of a million flowers. Air-choked with the fragrance of a million flowers. Oh, yes, yes, yes, Miss Kim, I got carried away. All right, we'll continue. Yes, Jonathan, nature has been most generous. But there is more on this sun-gilded island than flowers and trees. I'll say there is. Oh, yes, I might have known. Miss Kim, we'll continue with this later. The mood is gone. Go on with your letter. I might suggest a few things to add to it. They won't be as lyrical as the air choked with the fragrance of a million flowers. But they'll be as actual. You're not only an intruding jet, but a mule-eared eavesdropper as well. Thank you, Miss Kim. Good morning, Mr. C. Good morning, Miss Kim. You know, you're a strange fellow, US. One look at me and up goes your dander. That's no way to treat an old business partner. Old business partner indeed. Well, let's say associate for many years. Too many years. Yes, a good long time. You were a youngster in knee pants when we first locked horns. You were tearing yourself into 13 parts over a book of rules you were getting up called the Constitution. As I remember, it was up you and pulled all 13 parts of you into one solid hunk of oak. Then again, when you were a lanky, cocky adolescent, not quite 90 years old, you chose up sides and started to knock the block off each other. Took quite a bit of reasoning with both sides, and you've been reminding me of it ever since. Oh, that's my job. All right, what is it you want? I've come to go over the books with you. The year 1941 is nearly over, and there's some balancing to be done. You can't wait. I'm on a vacation. You've done a lot of vacationing this year. The worst part of it, you haven't been having any fun. Your heart hasn't been in it, now has it. Oh, of course, certainly sure it has. You can't fool me with that star-studded front of yours. You're not hitting on all 12. Something's eating you inside. Yes. You. Thank God for that. Thank God my small voice is able to reach you. That's what makes you, every 130 millionth part of you, a pretty decent fellow, deep down underneath. Yes, you're a wily old scullowag, Mr. C, but I, well, you can't hoodwink me with your flattery. No, sir. I'm on to your ways, and by Jehoseph, I'll be darned if I'm going to let you spoil my fun. You're not going to let me, but I will. Since I had to be saddled with a conscience, why, dear Lord, did you have to hog time into such an irascible, determined parasite like this one? There you see. Only a few minutes, but I got you praying already. All right, what's the use? OK, let's take a look at the books. Yeah, there you go, good boy. Now, where shall we start? Anywhere, but let's get on with it. All right, now let's say Hawaii. I wonder how much you know about sugarcane and pineapples. Sugarcane and pineapples? I don't know exactly what's behind that lawyer approach of yours, but I know a good deal about sugarcane and pineapples. Oh, you do? Yes, I do. It's a pioneering story that compares favorably with the opening of the West. It's a story of a miracle in a narrowed sun-smitten desert created by a handful of adroit men with indomitable courage. They and their dowty descendants put into cultivation 244,000 acres of best-free, strong, vigorous weeds, chucked full of sweet sap, an annual crop of two tons a century ago, a million tons today, over $50 million worth a year. Big business on soil less favorable for growing cane, they planted pineapples. 90,000 acres under cultivation in half a century. About 13 million cases of canned fruit shipped yearly. Big business, too. Where once was a village of grass huts, a modern American city arose. Horolulu, the pearl of the Pacific, a modern up-to-the-minute city, the territorial building, the municipal building, the library with its many branches, the University of Hawaii, the King Kamehameha School, over 300 public and private schools, Horolulu Academy of Arts with its priceless collection of art and paintings, lovely streets and home, beautiful houses of worship, representing all denominations, luxurious hotels of Hawaiian and the Moana, on legendary Waikiki Beach, a bustling port, a haven for ships of all nations, and the big five, Castle and Cook, Alexander and Baldwin, Sea Blur and Company, Theo H. Davies and Company, American Factors, the Big Five, the Backbone, the Nerve Center, the Brain of the Territory, Grandsons, aunts, uncles, in-laws, hailed together by blood ties and interlocking directorates. Scratch one and the other bleeds. Yes, sir. That, my dear Mr. C, is what was accomplished with a sweet weed and a spiny pineapple in one century. And that's what I know about sugarcane and pineapples. As usual, you're very well informed. You've covered the subject perfectly, with one exception, labor. It took human hands to plow, till and seed that desert soil, to irrigate it, fight the pests, harvest and gather the crop. Of course it did, and they've done a good job too. They? Who are they? Well, the natives. You're a great one to play ostrich when you want to. You know, as well as I do, that the majority of laborers were and are Japanese. Well, what about it? Nothing. But just for the record, let's not overlook the majority of the population here, the Japanese. They didn't come here to spread the gospel of adventure and trade. They were brought here as contract laborers to supply the needed manpower for those janky pioneers who got here first. Back in the 1860s, they came in drivelands, later in buckets full. Some saved their money and went back to the land of their fathers. Others, seeking better working conditions and broader opportunities, went on to the Pacific coast. Most of them, however, sank their roots, raised their families, buried their loved ones and settled permanently. There are a lot of them now, 157,000, 37% of the population of the islands. That's their 1941 telephone book, published for them in Japanese. And that's their newspaper, published by them. They have several daily newspapers of their own, a few semi-weeklies and weeklies. They have their own magazines, too. A goodly share still work in the sugar cane plantations. A goodly share still work in the pineapple fields. But they developed their big fire, too, not as financially potent and powerful, but very solid indeed. Inch by inch, their sons, grandson, uncle, aunt, cousins began to penetrate into the industrial life of the island. And all the time, their numbers were growing. Merchants, fishermen, storekeepers, doctors, manufacturers, dentists, servants, truck farmers, nurses, ad infinitum. Yep, there are a lot of them, for a lot of them, 157,000. And about 120,000 are full-fledged American citizens. Don't forget that. Conduct themselves accordingly. Listen to what Dr. Shunzo Sakamaki, chairman of the Oahu Citizens' Committee for Home Defense, had to say at a patriotic rally. We are not assembled here this evening to put on an act or a show. We want to carry our full share of the burden of national defense. We are here to repledge, one with another, our unreserved loyalty to the United States of America. This we do freely, gladly, proudly. There are those who question our sincerity, who doubt our loyalty. But if they would only pause and reflect, they would realize that there is no justification for such an attitude. After all, we were born here. Our homes, our friends, our livelihood, our future are all deeply bound up with this native land of ours. We realize how fortunate we are to be living in this of all the lands of the Earth. And we cherish our heritage as Americans. These are not mere words spoken for effect with tongue in cheek. And we wish to add in unmistakable language that if and when war comes, no matter with what other country, we will give our lives, if necessary, in defense of those democratic principles for which other Americans have lived and fought and died. As American a spirit as exists in any New England community by gods, a hyphenated spirit. Yes, they express their loyalty and no doubt our loyal. They send their children to American public schools where they pledge allegiance to the flag and sing patriotic American songs. But they also send them to their own language schools, 175 of them, where they're taught Japanese loyalties, culture and morals. What are the three main schools in Japan? Tokyo, Osaka and Yokohama. Shinto, their Buddhist and Christian churches, they brought with them their so-called religion, Shintoism, and devoutly follow its teachings. Would you please tell us who you recognize as a supreme being as deity? In Shintoism, we worship the first Japanese emperor whose creation started the world of mankind. Doesn't that imply worship of his descendants, the present son of heaven, Emperor Hirohito? He is the mortal image of our immortal deity. Do you mind telling us what are some of the basic precepts of your religion? Not at all. Shintoism embraces many doctrines. It preaches honor of the ancestors, thereby keeping alive the fires of nationalism and preserving a racial and social bond with the unbroken and divinely descended imperial dynasty. To be a Shintoist is to be a Japanese. This is not, nor can it be, a matter of choice. It is a duty. And they obey their duty. You're forgetting to guarantee the freedom of religion. Is it an infringement of those rights to prohibit American citizens from worshiping the head of a foreign government? What, I ask you, my liberty-loving friend, would Tokyo think if the emperor's subjects openly worship George Washington as a god? Are you implying that all these people are disloyal Americans? Oh, no, indeed not. I wouldn't or would anyone undertake to separate the loyal from the disloyal. I'm only presenting the facts. For an act what is commonly known as the Japanese Exclusion Act, there were about 66,000 American-born Japanese here. In that same year, Japan passed a law giving these 66,000 Americans the right to expatriate themselves from Japan. Yet up to 1933, only about 5,500 did. True, the expatriation procedure was made complicated and cumbersome by the Japanese government. Nevertheless, in that same period, between 1924 and 1933, 39,000 children were born to Japanese parents in Hawaii. But 17,800 of the parents went to the Japanese consulate here and registered their two-week-old sons and daughters so that they wouldn't lose their Japanese citizenship. If that's Americanism, it's very hyphenated. All right, all right. So there are many Japanese here and they have their language schools and Shinto temples and many are hyphenated and some perhaps disloyal. But don't go getting the impression that I'm entirely unaware of their presence here. My police forces, federal and local, are constantly vigilant and backing them up as the largest naval fortress in the world. As long as the American flag flies over these bastions of military strength, no one needs sleep uneasily. And let me remind you, it's a bastion I'm very proud of just in case you've forgotten. I haven't forgotten, but neither have the Japanese. Ah, there you go again. No, this time I mean the Japanese imperial government through its consulate general and his 250 vice-councils, the Japanese consulate, diplomatically protected by the flag of the rising sun. It's really a rare thing. There's only Shodoba on the side of Paul Harbour and there are a few Japanese houses on the side of it. I see. Tell me. On Monday, the biggest high school in the UK What's still in that big bag? Show me. I'm telling you the Salt Lake will run circles around it. They tell me these new cruises will do 35. Maybe so. Well, you know the old theory. Put on a little more armor and take it a few knots slower. It's a lot safer. See, you ought to see the burn I got here the other day. I got diamonds for lobsters. Look at this, Jim. I've been to it, will ya, baby? I'm in a hurry. What's the rush, Mike? Got a date? Yeah, a date with a sergeant. Sentry detail at the other end of the island. We're laying in a new landing field. You'll see it. It's over 9,000 feet long. I hope we don't miss that shoreboat. Oh, we'll make it all right. We always have. There goes one of those new army bombers. That's got plenty of firepower. Yeah, in the nose. A guy from Hickam told me that last week in a test, they sick to pursuit on her. Her tails as blind as a bat. In the German time, I was a little lonely. I was looking for a Japanese woman. And I found a secret to all of them. Here, I came from that woman. I'm from Hickam. I have a report. Yes? Mr. Hanaman, to see you. Have him come in. Thank you, ma'am. Good work. Morning, Herr Hanaman. How are you, gentlemen? You seem in a very good space today, naturally. Of course I am. Have you seen the papers? An American destroyer was sunk in the North Atlantic for one of our submarines. My office can take credit for that. The information was picked up right here in Honolulu for one of my best men. About 10 o'clock, the phone rang. Long distance. And guess who? Ralph. Well, he didn't say so in so many words, but we've got a little cold fixed up. And he's been transferred to a cruiser and is leaving on Friday for icing. Just imagine Ralph in a cold country like that. Why, he's a regular old beach boy. Poor Don probably freeze to death. Now look, Marco, remember, not a word to a single soul. I really shouldn't have told you. It's a military secret. It certainly was a military secret. Unfortunately, we didn't get the cruiser. But we did get one of the destroyers. My congratulations. You owe me more than congratulations. So? Surely you are not forgetting the fine work we are doing, telling the world what incompetent, stupid little children of the Orient, you Japanese odd. Loner, you've been playing too much around with the officers lately. Stop it. They're too smart for you. Tell your stories elsewhere. Giddy shops. Car games. Civilian workers. Talk to the public. Yes, Carl. And then this officer told me he came through here on the Coolidge on his way back. That he'd give our Navy just about six weeks to wipe the Japs off the sea. He said the reason they're so secret about that Navy of theirs is that it's no good and they know it. I'll build a scrap metal we didn't want anymore anyway. I guess our experts know what a pile of junk it is. A friend of mine knows a Marine just back from China. Says the Japs never will make good pilots. You just have to have a flair for flying, I guess. And they ain't got it. This insurance fella, he's been in Tokyo for more than seven years. Saw lots of their planes flying over Tokyo. Slow, he says. Sure weren't anything like ours. A newspaper fella who's been in Tokyo said their ships are just a lot of junk. Why, you say some of them just roll over and sink the first time their guns go off. And those Americans swallow it as easily as they do their indigestible popcorn. Well, Kita, I have something highly confidential to discuss with you. Certainly. Excuse us, Aga. Good morning. Our San Francisco office informs that that Washington has sent here many FBI agents and that military and naval intelligence men are practically everywhere. So they are. Close to which people from the world owe traditions and customs and adapted them to our American way of life. Both which now, in dignified splendor, flies the flag of the United States. It's all down there, Mr. C. If you'll only take time to look. It's amazing how much you can see with your head buried in the sand. So long. Sleeping peacefully, Uncle Sam? No problems? No worries? Everything in order, eh? Oh, go away, Mr. C. I'm tired. I'm tired, too. The whole world is tired. Why must you plague me so? I'm tired. Help Uncle Sam lay fast to sleep. Warned of the fire that was licking across the oceans from without. Warned of the dangers that were threatening from within. Tired from wrangling with his conscience and fatigued after a long dark night full of disturbing events as indeed the year 1941 was. He slept in the early Sabbath calm. Safe and secure behind its military and naval ramparts, the city of Honolulu, like many another unsuspecting American community, was also asleep. At all the Army and Navy establishments on the island, after repeated warnings from the war and Navy departments, a number one alert had secretly been in effect for 11 days. This alert provided suitable defense against possible acts of sabotage and uprisings within the island itself, but made no provision against attack or invasion. At Hickam Field, the Army's bomber base, precautions were taken to safeguard the equipment against sabotage. Hence on this Sunday morning, the planes were concentrated in hangars or lined up row by row on the open field. Immediately adjacent to Hickam Field is Pearl Harbor, the Navy's hundred million dollar fist. Here on this morning of a tragic day of reckoning, capital ships, heavy and light cruisers, lay at anchor. At anchor too lay several destroyers, tenders, minesweepers and repair ships, 86 vessels in all. By seven o'clock, the city began to stir. For the most part, the atmosphere was serene and quiet. At Hickam Field, ground crews were at work. On a dock in Pearl Harbor, a few blue jackets idled away a few minutes. At Conny Roy, a field mass was being held. Shipmates, today is the third Sunday of Advent, the 7th of December, which means that Christmas is not far ahead. I don't have to remind you, fellows, that the old Lerlene is about to shove off, carrying Christmas gifts and letters to the home side. Why not buy them a few presents? Can I get mother a patecchile, a little sister a hueskirt? I think they'd rather have something for Little Johnny out here in Hawaii. This is the time when you're going to be missed. So, send them a present for Christmas. But that letter is so important, Howard. Don't put that off. A few minutes past 7, an incident occurred at a temporary Army aircraft warning station. This station, as indeed the entire aircraft warning system, had officially closed at 7. But Private Joseph L. Lockhart, who had been receiving training here, was granted permission to remain at the station. While listening, he discovered something coming over the detector that alarmed him. He listened intently. Then, certain of his findings, he called the Central Information Center and inexperienced lieutenant answered the phone. Excuse me, sir. This is Private Lockhart. I believe a large flight of planes are approaching slightly east of north of Oahu at a distance of about 130 miles. Thank you, sir. This incident, where it acted upon, would have given our forces brief but precious time for defense action and may have considerably affected the events of this fateful day. Regrettably, Private Lockhart's warning went unheeded. It was 7.50 a.m. by the clock on the Aloha Tower when the drone of planes was faintly heard. Out of the misty Pacific skies, like tiny locusts, they swarmed in from the sea. From the southeast, at this very moment, on a quiet Sunday afternoon in Washington, Japan's smooth-talking, grinning envoys, Nomura and Kurosu landly delivering to Mr. Hull a lengthy protestation of Japan's peace intentions. Yes, at this very deceitful moment, about 200 of Japan's messengers of death swooped in over our Pacific paradise. On they came, wave after wave, boldly, fearlessly. They had little to fear. They knew that our task forces were at sea and they knew their disposition. They knew that no long-distance airplane or reconnaissance, no inshore airplane patrol was being maintained. They knew from detailed maps they carried with them the exact location of vital airfields, hangars and other structures. Each was given a specific objective and straight toward that objective he came, readiness with the sky and sea all their own. At 7.55 a.m. Hell broke loose. Those incendiaries and machine gun fire had changed their... and refused to change his mind. I don't think it is an attack by Japan. But you must have seen the Japanese planes. No, I did not. What about the bombing and gunfire? I thought the Ironman Navy were having maneuvers. Look, Mr. Keita, you know that I know that you know that this isn't an attack by Japan. I have nothing to say. And judging by the smoke pouring out of your chimney, there'll be nothing left to show. I have nothing to say. The second phase of the 30 minutes of perfidy, leaders was beaten off. Yes, beaten off by our men, who against overwhelming odds, heroically and magnificently gave notice to the world that we had only begun to fight. When they sneaked in, they were about 200 strong. Only about 150 when they departed. In them they left about 50 of their planes. Most of them were scattered on the airfields in charred, twisted and mangled wreckage. A few had crashed into the sea and were washed up on the shore. Some were shot out of the sky and plunged headlong into the harbor. Grim tell tale evidence that the list of dead japs might have been larger and the list of our casualties smaller had we been sufficiently on the alert. These two manned submarines, three of which were accounted for, were especially built to operate in shallow waters such as are found in and around Pearl Harbor. This piece of underwater perfidy won't be forgotten. Yes, this as indeed the whole diabolical part of the attack was conceived and aimed toward achieving one objective and one objective only. To catch us off guard, smash our fleet, cripple our standing as a sea power and put us out of business. In this it failed, but tragic and terrible was the scene of destruction. Heartbreaking, the site of ships built to fight and die proudly now left burning in shallow graves. Painful and lamentable the scenes at Hickam, Wheeler, Coneoë with barracks, hangers and equipment to massive battered debris. Always said President Roosevelt always will our whole nation remember the character of the onslaught against us in sorrow, in horror and disgust. Those also were President Roosevelt's words. Horror and disgust. Amazement and sorrow. Bitter, grievous, mortifying sorrow. For on this Sabbath day, 2,343 officers and enlisted men of our Army, Navy and Marine Corps gave their young lives in the service of our country. Who were these young Americans? Let us pause for a few minutes at their hallowed graves and ask a few of them to make themselves known. Who are you boys? Come on, speak up some of you. I am Robert R. Kelly, United States Army from Findlay, Ohio. My parents are Mr. and Mrs. James E. Kelly. I'm Alfred Aaron Rosenthal, United States Navy. I lived in Brooklyn, New York. My parents are Mr. and Mrs. Henry L. Rosenthal. I am Theodore Stephen Zabel, United States Marine Corps. My hometown is Castelia, Iowa. Those are my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Zabel. I am Moses Anderson Allen, United States Navy. I lived on a farm in Coal, North Carolina. My mother is Mrs. Abby Allen. I am James Webster Late, United States Navy. I'm from Huntington Park, California. My folks are Mr. and Mrs. William J. Late, Antonio S. Tafoya, United States Army. I lived just outside of Albuquerque, New Mexico. My father and mother are Mr. and Mrs. Hayesus A. Tafoya. I am Lieutenant William R. Schick, United States Army Medical Corps. My home was Chicago, Illinois. My parents are Mr. and Mrs. William A. Schick. My wife's name is Lois. You have a baby now, Lieutenant. He was born three months after Pearl Harbor. He's named after you. Billy. And you may be pleased to know he was born on your birthday. Oh, that's swell. Thanks. But tell me one thing, Lieutenant. How does it happen that all of you sound and talk alike? We are all alike. We are all Americans. That's correct, Mr. Tojo. The aircraft got cut-sized. I've lost. Incorrect. That's the old target ship. The battleship. Capsized, but not lost. Plans are underway for writing her. The battleships. West Virginia. But just a minute, Mr. Tojo, before you go any further with your facts, meet Captain H.N. Walin of Arnave. He is the Bureau of Ships, expert on salvage and repair. Together with hundreds of civilian technicians, machinists, welders, mechanics, and all the other equipment, many of whom were recruited from the mainland and working in complete harmony with Navy personnel, he began a 24-hour, around-the-clock job of salvage and repair that will stand forever as one of the great achievements in maritime history. Before the water's surface, this epic of masterful engineering went on. Captain Walin has proved you a mighty tall storyteller, Mr. Tojo. He calls your phone number Mr. Tojo. He calls your facts by a rich Navy word, scuttlebutton. And from the very moment the attack was over, he set out to scuttle your kind of scuttlebutton. California, known affectionately to our blue jackets as the prune barge, with her ugly wounds temporarily bound, was refloated and towed to dry dock. Similar attention was given to the 28-year-old Nevada and the 21-year-old West Virginia. Here in dry dock, in record-breaking time, they were overhauled and improved, from stem to stern, from hull to peak. Now dressed in their up-to-the-minute fighting garb, and rare and to go, these mighty warriors and their proud crews stand out to sea. Godspeed. Who is this saucy little gal, Captain Walin? By George, it looks like that. Yes, it is. The Mayan layer, Oglala. A 4,000-ton surprise package. Given up and reported as lost, this former Fall River Line passenger ship was rited and refloated. Taken to dry dock, this small, dauntless craft was refitted and repaired. Now, spank and new, this veteran of World War I again takes up her battle station. So you see, Mr. Tojo, how poorly your facts stand up. Sorry to have interrupted. Lead, which is left of the Pacific Fleet, is now in the stoddily flight, seeking shelter in the Panama Canal. Before you were lying, now you're fishing. Oh, shipping lanes between a lot of states, mainland and high... And now you're wishing. No phantom ships leaves, Mr. Tojo, but a huge convoy from the mainland. Three dozen ships, quite a number for blockade runners. And they're loaded to the gunnels with reinforcements and supplies. And here's a tip, Mr. Tojo. More of these convoys are on the way. Yes, convoy after convoy. Men in ever-increasing numbers. Supplies in ever-increasing quantity. For thanks to Washington's farsighted program, we did manage, before December 7th, despite many internal difficulties and disagreements, to build up the strength of our armed forces and start our factories humming. So that today, behind a heavy curtain of military censorship, Hawaii stands the greatest military and naval fortress in the world. Yes, virtually overnight, the island scene changed. War had come to America's tropical suburb. The Axis brand of war. A stab in the back on Sunday morning. The din of the last bomb had barely faded and Governor Poindexter proclaimed martial law for the civilian population. What kind of garrison material did these people make? Here is their vivid answer to Japan's sneak punch. Oahu's Civilian Defense Committee. 4,000 men and women. Organized and trained before the 7th and working in cooperation with military and Red Cross officials, this civilian army and its neighbors went to war. Windows were taped in order to reduce the dangers from flying glass. Vital installations were camouflaged and protected by sandbags and barbed wire. Barbed wire, mountains of it. Strong along every foot of Oahu's colorful coasts. Strong across its highways, around its schools and its public buildings. Yes, war had come to the people in our island paradise and the people dug in. Everywhere the earth was tunneled, to provide shelter from shrapnel and strafing. Public squares, parks and playgrounds were uprooted. Sturdy concrete shelters were built and distributed throughout the city. An efficient air raid warning system was put into operation and for the first time in history, American school children were brought face to face with the grim reality of war. Even tiny little tots, confused and bewildered, were taught to march into zigzag trenches. How difficult to convey to them the why or wherefore of this strange game. Still more difficult to explain the need for these monstrous looking things but the fathers and mothers of Hawaii did. For this war is a war of survival. A people's war. Even a little people's war. Yes, right down to striplings and infants. A bunny mask. But no toy this. For this child, a grim memory of your treachery, Mr. Tojo. Well did the mothers of Hawaii as they waited in endless lines for these bunny masks. Remember the gas attacks in China. Well did they know that that which you tried in China? You were capable of trying here. But Hawaii is prepared now. Even against this possibility. Everyone has a rubber gas mask and carries it with them. From children as they go to and from school to grown ups, civilian and military alike. The people of Hawaii needed no pep talks on the value of rubber. This pile collected by them unmistakably proves that. Yes, all the people pitched in. The Japanese too. They volunteered in great numbers as blood donors. They liberally supported the war bond drive. And everywhere this scene was commonplace. The younger generation did its share and fully justified Dr. Shunzo Sakamaki's faith and trust in his fellow Japanese. Those that were known to be disloyal or undercover enemy agents were immediately taken into custody. Many were forced out of business and interned. But despite the wild Tokyo inspired rumors and scuttle but not one single solitary act of sabotage was committed on the 7th. Your bombs Mr. Tojo brought many changes. And in no small measure served to further complicate the already complex life of the Japanese in Hawaii. As though to permanently erase their relationship with the homeland they wiped out or removed every vestige of the written Japanese word. Closed or the language schools. Empty and boarded up the Shinto temples. Gone the flag of the rising sun. This young American Japanese gave the best illustration that over Hawaii the rising sun had begun to set. Thus war came to Hawaii USA. The Aloha Tower once the symbol of welcome and hospitality now stands clad in weird war paint. No longer do luxurious liners bring vacation bent tourists to these once happy aisles. The liners too have gone to war. No longer is Waikiki Beach the sun-kissed playground of the Pacific. Barbed wire has changed its face too. Now at twilight the city streets are empty and deserted. Blackouts start each day promptly at dusk. Well you may crow Mr. Tojo. You've done a good job of stabbing in the back. You've darkened our cities. You've destroyed our property. You've spilled our blood. Our faith tells us that to all this treachery there can be but one answer a time honored answer. For all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword. So that's the story of Pearl Harbor before, during, and after the infamous attack on December 7th. It's all true. You can take my word for it because I know I was there. I died there. Who are you parlaying with buddy? Oh just talking to some of our fellow Americans. Up here or down there? Down there. It's a waste of time. Oh they're all right. I ain't the way I size them up. I ought to know. I've been watching them from up here for 24 years. Where did you get yours? On the barn. Oh you're a veteran. Ah do you rookies yeah, but I ain't no veteran. Over there's men that fought the red coat with George Washington. Saw the general the other day. Open there the boys of 1812 the Indian fighters. Up there's regiment after regiment of blues and greys. Back down Manila Boulevard there's some of Dewey's men. My outfit's billeted up here in the new sector. Reckon they'll be opening up some more sectors now. Plenty of room for all of you. For you boys from this war and from the next. There isn't gonna be any next. Oh where have I heard that before? Yes I know. It's been said since the Bible was in its first edition. But this time we're gonna make the world. The world's safe for democracy. The world's safe period. Safe for us to continue our democracy. Safe for any other nation who may choose to live under a democracy or any other book of rules. Whatever its name. Just as long as they call a fair ball fair and a foul ball foul. Who's gonna do your umpire? Every nation. Bush leaguers and the majors alike. Even when they prove themselves able and worthy to rate being called a ball club. I've heard all that before too buddy. And no reflection on you it was said better by a great man that's up here with us now. Woodrow Wilson. And what happened? America decided they didn't want to play balls the international league so they left Wilson out there on third base and they walked off of the field. When he tried to tell them that they're a big league club now and that they no longer playin' sand lot ball they sold him and his hopes and his ideals down the river. That was 1918. 500 years ago. This time you can bet your last Lincoln penny Uncle Sam's gonna be right in there. Pitchin'. You takin' any bets? The last shot's fired. They'll take all of the rouge felt, the wallets, the hulls, the wells, the wilky speeches. They'll pack them away in moth balls. They'll climb up on the bleachers. They'll eat hot dogs. They'll watch the other clubs slug it out. Six'll get you twelve at 15 or 20 years from now they'll be over enough new sectors in here. You better cut down on the odds, soldier. Because when this ball game is over a lot of guys are gonna be struck out, that's true. But a lot of guys are gonna be coming back to home plate and they're gonna ask a lot of questions and they're gonna have a lot to say about who does what and when. A whole flack of contracts and promissory notes is being dished out to them and they're coming back to collect my money's on them and on their Roosevelt's, the Church's, the Stalin's and the Chiang Kai-shek's. I'm puttin' my dough on a ball slugger called Reason on a pitcher called Common Sense on an outfield called Decency, Faith, Brotherhood, Religion. Teams like that are warming up all over the globe. They're in spring training now. But when the season starts they're gonna be all out there slugging, pitching, feeling their way to a World Series pennant called Peace. Yes, all over the world. In Australia.