Dispatches from Home: Lest We Forget.

December 7, 1941, was a bright, sunny Sunday morning. The sunshine glistened atop the peaceful waters of Pearl Harbor. Sailors in the big ships all over the harbor were getting ready for the day. Some saluted, as they raised Old Glory, its red, white, and blue colors flapping in the morning breeze. Some were eating a tasty breakfast. Some were shaving. Some were showering, the warm water and sudsy soap refreshing. And some were on deck. However, most were below deck. Suddenly, in less than 12 minutes, their lives were irrevocably changed. Those below decks were quickly drowned, gasping for breath in the blacken hulls of the many ships bombed that day. Those on the slanting decks did their duty, trying to extinguish the flames that engulfed the ships. The sunny Sunday morning quickly turned into hell on earth. Screams of pain filled the air. Sirens shrieked. Flesh sizzled. Sailors cried out to their loved ones, quickly saying the names of wives, children, and mothers; many pleaded to God to save them. As morning faded into the afternoon, and the afternoon gave way to darkness and despair, the ships still burned, bodies floated, and America found itself at war. Lest we forget!