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After Pearl Harbor

Adolf Hitler made two enormous blunders that led eventually to the downfall of Nazi Germany. One was his ill-fated invasion of Russia, which brought the Soviet Union into the war on the side of Britain. The other was declaring war against the United States.

In a blustery address to the German Reichstag after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Hitler hurled personal insults at Franklin D. Roosevelt and called for the Reichstag to support a declaration of war. The deputies leaped to their feet cheering.

In Rome the following day, Benito Mussolini proclaimed his own Fascist declaration of war against the United States. The tripartite circle was now complete.

The world was at war.

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In the first week of the war, Japanese planes sank two British battleships off the coast of Malaya. Along with the crippling American losses at Pearl Harbor, this blow gave the Japanese fleet complete supremacy in the Pacific, the China Seas and the Indian Ocean.

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America was stunned.

In the tumultuous weeks and months that followed, the nation lurched toward total mobilization. Thousands of young Americans enlisted in the armed forces without waiting for the draft.

January 1942, on the eve of becoming twenty, I announced to my mother that I wanted to try out for the Naval Aviation flight program. The washout rate was high, that I knew. But I wanted to be a Navy pilot. I was determined to give it my best shot.

I suppose my childhood enthusiasm for airplanes and flying played a role in my going for the Wings of Gold.

But that goal was bolstered, I admit, by a strong sense of duty to my country—the kind of simple, unabashed patriotism that may be out of style in today’s cynical environment.

During the bleak days following Pearl Harbor, we felt that the real issue in America was beat or be beaten. I felt a strong, personal responsibility to get involved.

It took careful cajoling to get my mother to go along. Eventually, she gave me her full support and I headed downtown to the US Navy recruiting office in Portland, where I was sworn in almost immediately as a lowly Seaman Second Class. The following day, they put me on a train to Seattle for two or three long days of physical and written exams at the Twelfth Naval District headquarters overlooking Puget Sound.

Join the Marines

The first American beachhead landing of World War II came in the early fall of 1942 when U.S. Marines stormed ashore at Guadalcanal. It marked the start of America’s painful, inexorable struggle to push Tojo’s Imperial forces back to Tokyo.

The Japanese—taking dead aim at Australia—had been constructing an airfield base on Guadalcanal, at the southern end of the Solomon Islands. Whoever held Guadalcanal held the key to the vital lifeline between the U.S. and Australia, last surviving Allied power in the South Pacific.

The Marines established a shaky perimeter on the island, capturing what later became Henderson Field.

Operating from bases on Bougainville and Rabaul and with heavy naval support, the Japanese furiously and, repeatedly counter-attacked for months on end, in a frenzied attempt to retake the entire island. They threw in heavy troop reinforcements, naval bombardments and waves of fighters and bombers coming down the slot of the Solomons. Exhausted Marine ground troops held on and expanded their perimeter under appalling conditions. And a grim, outnumbered band of weary Marine Corps flyers in their Grummans blasted incoming bombers and out­fought Mitsubishi Zeros overhead.

Suffering insurmountable losses, the Japanese military in February of 1943 finally abandoned their efforts to recapture Guadalcanal. Within the Corps, the names of Marine flyers like Robert Galer, John L. Smith, Joe Foss and Oregon’s Marion Carl became the stuff of legends.

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The valor of the flyers in the skies over Guadalcanal, the honor and tradition of the Corps, and my brash and youthful eagerness at that time to get into the thick of the fight, led me during advance flight training to try for a transfer into the Marine Corps.

What I didn’t realize was that only the top ten percent of each flight class received, that choice—to stay in the Navy or join the Marines. I had my work cut out for me.

***

The fierce intensity of advanced flight training at Corpus Christi hit hard. It was total immersion, hour after hour, day after day, week after week.

Could I handle this?

On the ground, we studied aerodynamics, meteorology, VFR and instrument navigation, radio flight procedure, oxygen procedure, leadership principles, military flight