December 8, 1941

Yesterday, which was Sunday, my day began at 6 A.M. After Michael had been fed and while I was washing dishes, I turned on the local radio station, an unusual thing for me to do. In a very short space of time, a good many unusual things occurred. Just before 8 A.M. we heard the sound of heavy guns firing from various directions. We decided it must be gun practice, and when a little later we heard the radio announcer call all service personnel to their posts we thought an "Alert" must be in progress. By the time we had eaten breakfast we noticed that many people were out in the street, and being curious, we drove to a vantage point on the heights to see what was going on. A few other sightseers saw what we did: thick black smoke blowing across Pearl Harbor and Hicken Field, occasional flashes of fire at various places, geysers of water where shells were landing in the ocean, a few planes aloft, puffs of smoke from anti-aircraft guns, but practically no ships. After we decided the "exercise" must be over, and returned home. Our next door neighbor, who is in the Navy, was about to leave for Pearl Harbor, and we discussed with him the remote possibility that this could really be war. It wasn't long before we learned the truth.

The radio announcer kept interrupting the musical program with various announcements to the Service men and to the public, and he soon convinced us that, in his words, this was "the real McCoy", not a simulated attack. We were warned not to use the telephone except in emergencies, we were ordered to move all cars off the streets and were instructed to stay at home and keep calm.

About 9:30 a second wave of planes appeared overhead, and we watched them from the front yard and wondered where the bombs, which we could hear, were falling. Because I was scared and nervous, I decided to finish up my kitchen work, after putting Michael to bed for his morning nap. While I was doing so, the noise indicated that our section of the city was being attacked, but the nearest thing to us was a small bomb which exploded harmlessly on the hillside above our house. When we saw waves of planes coming from the direction of one of our airfields we felt the attack would soon be over, and it was.

After calm was restored, we went up the street to see the McCloskeys. Their reaction was similar to ours; we could hardly grasp what was happening to us. After discussing what we could do at the beginning of this emergency, we felt we should come home and I offered Marguerite some potatoes, for we must eat, and she walked here with us. Before we quite reached our corner, we heard planes overhead and bombs falling. With a sinking feeling in our stomachs we hurried into the house, and I tried to get Marguerite to stay, but she felt se should get back to her family at the first lull. Not long after she had left we heard the whining of a bomb very close and it landed with a terrible noise about two hundred feet from the McCloskeys' house. They saw it land for they were all outside, and it came down right in front of them. Fortunately, no one was hurt by that explosion.

Once again the city became quiet, and though we weren't feeling tranquil, everything seemed calm, and as the quiet afternoon wore on, we could hardly believe that war was actually going on. It was a horrible reality, however, as the many civil workers who were called for rescue work, could testify. Many of the neighbors went to their jobs, and we heard, from them, a few details of what had happened, but for the most part we were in ignorance of the damage wrought by the Japanese. The local radio had gone off the air about noon, except to issue instructions from time to time, but we heard mainland stations announce the news of the attack. One thought in our minds was anxiety over what all our relatives would have the go through, wondering what had happened to us. The radio announcements sounded so ominous, whereas what we had experienced, while frightening at the time, had been very mild, we knew from hearing what Europeans have had to endure.

There was no excitement during the entire afternoon, and there was nothing we could do except to stay at home and occupy our minds as best we could. We ate very little all day, not feeling hungry, but we got supper out of the way early, to comply with blackout regulations at nightfall. Michael of course, had a normal day because he didn't realize that anything unusual had happened. He slept through even the worst of the noise, and played happily while he was awake. We were thankful he was too small to be frightened, as the older children in the neighborhood were.

Since we weren't prepared to blackout doors and windows, we had to keep all lights off after dusk, and we soon discovered how helpless we were when we couldn't see. We could find our way around pretty well, but we couldn't find small objects we wanted, and of course we couldn't do anything to pass the time, except to listen to the radio, which weren't giving out much information. Thinking that our night's sleep might be interrupted, we thought it wise to go to bed early.

Our preparations for a night alarm were quite simple, and ironically enough, followed a Berlin suggestion as to what to do to prepare for an air raid: we laid warm coats and our shoes close to the bed, and placed a bag of clothes for Michael beside them. Then we dropped asleep, not hearing even the usual night noises.

I slept extremely well, and didn't wake until almost daybreak, but Wilbur was not so fortunate. It seemed that there had been a sporadic air raid some time before midnight, and he had heard an anti-aircraft shell explode somewhere in our neighborhood. After that the night was quiet.

My first thought on Monday was to send reassuring messages to the Mainland if possible, and to supplement the supply of baby food I had on hand. Wilbur went to work as usual, he left the car at home, and I took a neighbor with me to the Cable office and to the store. We reached the downtown district so early that not many cars were about, but soon the streets were quite well filled with people on their way to work. As the first Cable office to which we went, a soldier refused us admittance saying no cables were to be sent. Disheartened, we decided first to try sending one at another company, and there we had no difficulty being waited upon, although quite a number of people were on the same errand as we were. Though we were told that there would be some delay in dispatching the cable, it was a relief to know we could send a message.

Our next stop was the bank, which was open at 7:30 though business was transacted till 8:15. We got enough cash to enable us to make some emergency purchases if we should need to do so. Then we went searching for flashlight batteries, an urgent need just now. The first drugstore we came to was out of them, but the second had plenty, and offered us blue cellophane to use with them!

Our business downtown being finished, we hastened to leave, for the atmosphere was too tense for our enjoyment. Though we saw no evidence of the damage wrought by bombs intended for the power station, we were reminded of our state of emergency by the number of armed soldiers and officers patrolling the streets, by the tin helmets policemen were wearing, by the various civilian emergency wardens standing by, and by the passing of ambulances and fire trucks as well as other official vehicles.

As we neared the grocery store, it became apparent that many people were there before us, and the aisles were jammed with many women and children buying feverishly and apparently without much wisdom in some cases. At 9 A.M. the store was already out of a good many items particularly staples such as rice, potatoes and sugar, but we were able to get quite a number of things we needed. The situation must have been the same all over the city for the governor soon issued an order that all food stores be closed until an inventory of all supplies could be taken and the stores reopened under license. Another order was the restriction of gasoline consumption to urgent business only.

Feeling that I'd be better off in resuming my normal work than to waste too much time talking and visiting, I did my regular Monday washing before noon, and that made me hungry enough to want a substantial lunch. I ate leftovers which couldn't be kept very long. That is the criterion for meal planning now: which foods can be kept, and which must be used before they spoil? Naturally, I must also think of the best way to use each item of food, so that we'll get maximum benefit from each day's meals, and so that what we have on hand will last as long as is necessary. Our diet may become somewhat monotonous before we return to normal, but I think we'll manage quite well. We are very lucky to have a good supply of canned food on hand, and I feel very sorry for those who haven't been able to build up an "emergency cupboard."

During the afternoon I heard a good deal of news over the mainland radio, which was a relief from hearing the mouth-to-mouth rumors which are rampant here. The President's message to Congress I heard in a re-broadcast, and Michael listened, too. The only part which attracted his attention seemed to be the Star Spangled Banner, during the playing of which he waved his arms and sang in his own baby fashion.

When Wilbur came home from work, he fixed up the kitchen so that it could be lit during the blackout, by covering the windows and screen door with heavy wrapping paper. A crack of light over the top of the dining room door still showed, so we didn't use a light then. At this time of year we have to have dinner very early to be finished before dark. After supper we listened to the mainland radio for a short while, but the time dragged as we went to bed before 8:30.

Tuesday, December 9

I didn't sleep quite so soundly last night; the sound of shots somewhere in the neighborhood woke me with a fright, but I soon went to sleep again. It's getting somewhat easier to do things in the dark now, but it takes much longer for each task. I didn't accomplish a great deal of work today, as the neighbors dropped in frequently to chat. The woman upstairs is feeling weak from loss o blood, as she has become a blood donor. That's one service I can render, if I can leave Michael with someone while I'm away the many hours it takes to be a donor.

All the food stores are closed today while inventory is being taken. It will take some time to work out a first method of distributing food, but at present we are not to be rationed. Quite a number of merchandise items are banned from sale indefinitely, and new orders are being issued all the time, since we are now under martial law.

We listened to the President's speech this afternoon after Wilbur came home, but it was first about what we expected and any definite information about Hawaii being lacking, we felt as much in the dark as ever. Rumors are flying thick and fast on every subject from contamination of the water supply to sinking of the Lurline [?] so we don't know what to believe.

Our bathroom and kitchen are now pretty well blacked out, but we aren't using a very strong light, as we don't want to violate the regulation as many people seem to be doing. The police are kept busy tracking down lights all night. I'm glad we aren't accustomed to late hours or it would be hard to go to bed early.

Wednesday, December 10

We have had so much rain the past three nights that it seems as if Nature were trying to protect us from hostile planes. The days are cloudy, but there's plenty of wind to get clothes dry. I didn't wash till afternoon today, but brought everything in dry before dark.

My morning was pretty well filled by a trip to one of the large markets; a neighbor offered to take me in her car, and now that gasoline is restricted it seemed too good an opportunity to let pass. Fortunately I left Michael with Marguerite; I don't know what I'd have done if I'd had to carry him. When we got to the store there was a double line at least 100 feet long waiting to be admitted. It took an hour for us to get in, as only a few were allowed to shop at one time. The new regulations are that each store shall sell to only its regular customers, up to a certain price limit ($2.00 at most stores) and all sales are for cash and carry only. There are certain drawbacks to this plan, but I suppose the regulations will be perfected later. Waiting in line wasn't at all unpleasant, as everyone was friendly and we chatted with strangers as people do in times of trouble. I'd hate to have to waste so much time shopping every day, however. While I waited I thought how different our "bread line" was from those in Europe where women wait half a day, sometimes to be turned away empty handed; we at least could see an abundance of food awaiting us inside the store.

I had plenty of work to do after lunch, but I had time to hear an officer on the Military Governor's staff give a radio talk on conditions here; it appears that all the adjustments necessary to life in wartime are being made satisfactorily.

We used a little of our precious gasoline to return a lot of library books due since Sunday (the Library is closed, of course) and to see how the Bensons are getting along. Leroy will have to work seven days a week now repairing warships; he got to Pearl Harbor Sunday while the bombings were still going on. At the Library we saw trenches dug in the lawn, but we don't know their purpose.

We ate in style tonight, with one dining room light on, Wilbur having contrived a variety of coverings for the windows. Black paper of the kind used to protect young pineapples in the field, card board from milk cases, blankets and canvas did the job. It makes a rather airless room, but is all right in this cool weather. Of course we shall leave the bedroom as it is.

Our blackout experience is by no means unique, we're learning from the radio reports that Southern California is dark at night, as well as other parts of the state. Let's hope the threat of bombings will never be as grave there as here.

June 5, 1942

Now, after a quiet period of nearly six months, in which there seemed nothing important to set down here, I open this little diary and am almost shocked by the last sentence I wrote in December. This week has be portentous, and it has only taken a few days for everyone, whether or not he is closely connected with a Service man, to realize that something is afoot. Rumors have circulated so much since war was declared, that we are suspicious of everything we are told, but perhaps the talk of an aircraft carrier being sighted five hundred miles from here is really the truth. At any rate, we now know that Dutch Harbor and Midway Island have been bombed, and we know that every precaution possible against an attack here has been taken. Our first inkling of trouble came Monday evening when I called an officer friend to invite him to visit us. He replied that he had been ordered to stay close to his phone because an Alert was on. A little later, Wilbur's superior in the BMTC came with orders for Wilbur to send out certain men to patrol our neighborhood during the night, fully equipped with their automatics, rifles and ammunition. Tuesday night Wilbur had to go out from eight till midnight, and he had the same duty Thursday night.

The only general indications of extra military precautions seemed to be an unusual amount of gun practice, the big guns making a sickening thunder, and an extraordinary number of troop trucks moving along the streets in various parts of town. So there was nothing to alarm the public until Thursday morning's paper carried an evacuation "order" for the most congested district, asking those who had arranged to stay with friends in outlying districts to do so. That made people wonder how soon a general evacuation order would be issued. At present everything seems exceedingly calm, and it is hard to believe that we may be subjected to another attack. Honolulu is as beautiful as it always is at this time of year with the pink shower trees in full bloom and the poincianas beginning to glow with red. It's hot in blacked out rooms these summer evenings, but no one wants to jeopardize our safety by leaving windows open and light showing. The only reminder I've had today that extra precautions are being taken is the numbers of planes which roar over our valley at frequent intervals -- six or eight make such a din that we can't conceive of the noise a thousand bombers must make in such a raid as the one on Cologne.