It was on December 7th, 1941 that 353 Japanese bombers attacked

[Journeyman]

12. My father enlisted the next day. A senior in high school, he withdrew to start training Jan. 2nd...

He was a strong liberal, great admirer of President Roosevelt, and he didn't give a second thought about leaving school and family to fight in the Navy.

He spent the next four years on a destroyer in the Pacific Theater. He received the Silver Star in the Naval Battle of Guadalcanal. Later that day, his ship escorted the damaged USS Juneau; engineers from his vessel were onboard to help the crippled cruiser make repairs when an enemy torpedo broke it in two. It sank in 20 seconds, with all the attendant horror that came to light weeks later.

What all my Father saw and what he did died with him at an early age. He never fit into society again. He drank himself to death, haunted by the past.

It was a bastard war filled with black moments and unrestrained hatreds on every side, and it was set in motion 80 years ago today.