The Laughing Wolf

It Was A Quiet Morning

The workday was just getting underway. Coffee and/or breakfast was the order of the day for many, some lucky few were sleeping in. There was no warning, for vital intelligence had been missed, or had not been shared between competing agencies and organizations.

The planes screamed in and the dying began. There were several waves and multiple targets, and pilots gloated as they identified theirs and bored in. There was little that could be done for defense, and only a few intercept planes even made it into the air, but all that could be done was done.

Amidst the debris, heat, and flames, the firefighters and rescuers moved in, knowing that they could and would die as the flames spread and the world came crashing down. Duty drove them, as it did many that day, and all too many paid the ultimate price for freedom that day.

The attack ended, and the recovery began. A stunned nation watched and waited for all too few survivors to be found in the wreckage, and mourned as the bodies and parts of bodies came forth. Many bodies were never found, nor pieces large enough to identify, and familes lived with the horror of never having certainty from a final coming home.

December 7, 1941 is indeed a date that lives in infamy. It was a day of heroism, tragedy, incompetence, and incomparable efforts far above the normal call to duty. September 11, 2001 is indeed a date that lives in infamy. It too was a day of heroism, tragedy, incompetence, and incomparable efforts far above the normal call to duty.

December 7, 1941 was a clarion call for my parent’s generation. It awoke the country from its internal gaze, and awakened it to the evil spreading in the world. An evil that could no longer be ignored, for it now threatened hearth and home. That generation rose to meet the challenge, and did what it had to do. September 11, 2001 was our clarion call, and we do what we have to do.

There are many parallels between the two, and they bear a great deal of thought. Today, however, is a day to remember the sacrifice that came before and the blood price paid.

If you go to Hawai’i, take the time to go to Pearl Harbor. Some of the remaining survivors are still there as guides, as living history presentations, and as a challenge to all who come after. Do as I did and cross the waves. Stare down at the tomb below, rusting quietly beneath the waves, and watch the small drops of oil that continue to rise from tanks last filled before that day. Take the time to read the names, and honor them all. Salute also those that have chosen to come back to be with their comrades, to lie beneath the waves with those from whom they were separated that day.

But don’t stop there. Go to the Punchbowl and see the names there. Walk up the grand staircase and read the cenotaphs on the right, then on the left on your way down. Read the names of those who’s bodies were never found. Walk in peace among the graves, and thank them for that peace and the freedom to visit and live.

Remember long and remember hard the blood price paid, and the down payment made this very day. For at dawn we were indeed asleep, never knowing the burden we would shoulder that day. As we move to continue to shoulder our burden, remember those who shouldered theirs on this their day. Remember their stories, remember their lives, remember that they paid for our freedom with their lives.

LW

Rand has some related thoughts. John of Argghhh! also has some related thoughts and a great list of other Dec. 7 posts. Val, as always, has a good post and good links. Sgt. Hook has it concise. Der Commissar has two good posts up. Backcountry Conservative has a good roundup too. You really need to read the essay that is part of Blackfive's post.