Our squadron had been operating in Hawaiian waters in late November and entered Pearl Harbor on Friday, November 28th to commence a three- week period of upkeep and minor overhaul. The Case had been scheduled to go into the floating dry-dock. However, the Shaw had a minor collision with an oil tanker while practicing fueling at sea, and went into the dry-dock instead of the Case. Lucky for the Case; very lucky for me!

My battle station was ammunition hoist operator in the forward magazine. That is exactly where a 500 lb. bomb hit the Shaw causing an explosion that completely shattered the ship forward of the bridge, and sinking the dry-dock in the bargain.

As things turned out, we went alongside the U.S.S. Whitney, a destroyer tender, and started a three-week overhaul.

On the morning of December 7th I had the cold iron watch in the engine room from 4 A.M. until 8 A.M. A cold iron watch is set when the ship’s boilers are cold, and steam, electrical power, and other necessary services are received from another source, such as the dock or a tender. In the engine room we had been working on key pieces of machinery for a week while receiving all of our services from the U.S.S. Whitney. Our electrical generators were disassembled, the condensers were open, and in the firerooms the boilers were opened up for cleaning. Parts of our main battery, the 5" 38 caliber guns, were over on the tender for calibration or repair. In short, the Case was unable to get underway, and almost unable to defend itself.

One last observation before getting into the description of the attack as I perceived it. On Saturday morning December 6th, after a shipboard inspection by our Commanding Officer, all hands were ordered to the fantail. We were told that our country’s relations with Japan were rapidly deteriorating. When at sea all lookouts were to be constantly on the alert and if, and when general quarters sounded, we were to man our battle stations on the double, and be prepared to do battle. To quote our C.O., "It looks like we are going to have trouble with our little brown brothers."

That afternoon the senior officers went ashore, and the ship was left in charge of a reserve Lt. Junior Grade, and a reserve Ensign. Our Commanding Officer wasn’t able to get back to the ship until sometime after 9 A.M. the morning of December 7th, between the first and second wave of attacks.

My 4 to 8 watch that morning was uneventful, as cold iron watches are. I was relieved about 7 A.M. by the next watch stander to eat breakfast. When I returned to the engine room I made a fresh pot of coffee for the late risers, who started straggling down into the engine room for that first cigarette and a cup of coffee.

Our first indication that something was amiss was when we heard a .50 caliber machine gun on the destroyer alongside start firing. The first comment was, quote "Somebody is going to get their ass in a sling for firing a machine gun in the harbor" unquote. Then a few seconds later there was another burst of machine gun fire followed by the crack of a 5" gun firing.

I climbed out of the engine room hatch onto the main deck, and as I looked aft a Jap torpedo bomber flew past so low that I could see the pilot looking down at us. The big red circle on the side of the fuselage left no doubt as to what was happening.

I ran aft to the fantail, and looking out over the harbor, Ford Island was a mass of smoke and flames. Jap planes were buzzing around, and my recollection was that they reminded me of a swarm of angry bees. About the same time, to the left of the stern of the ship, over the end of Ford Island, there was a tremendous explosion. I presume that was the death throes of the battleship Arizona.

I ran forward to man my battle station as ammunition hoist operator in the forward magazine. Just as I was about to go below, the young reserve Ensign stepped out of the wardroom in his skivvies. He asked me what was going on, and I told him in no uncertain terms. His response was "My God! What are we going to do?" I suggested that it might be a good idea to sound general quarters, because being a Sunday morning a lot of men were sleeping in.

I went down to my battle station in the forward magazine. Just as I arrived, electrical power from the tender failed, and the entire ship was plunged into darkness. I groped my way back up to topside. The attack was at its height by then. We were firing our .50 caliber machine guns, but I don’t know how effective our gunners were.

As soon as power was restored all engineers were ordered to their work stations. We started putting back together again what we spent a week taking apart.

Even down below the sounds at the battle going on were very apparent, and an occasional cheer would ring out when our gunners scored a kill. I remember shaking so badly that it took two hands to get a wrench on a bolt. I soon got over that as a feeling of rage swept over me. I remember that intense emotion, even today, after almost 60 years. During the attack I went to topside on some errand, and looking out over the harbor, the shrapnel falling on the water looked like an approaching rainstorm.

The Case was finally able to get underway and leave the support of the U.S.S. Whitney about 15:50. Our first wartime assignment was to depth charge an enemy midget sub that was lying on the bottom of the harbor. It has been clobbered by the alert gunners on the U.S.S. Curtis when it bobbed to the surface close by. We dropped a 600 lb. depth charge on the sub in about 4Oft. of water. We flattened the sub but almost sank the Case in the process.

We patrolled the harbor all night; going around Ford Island, passing the Arizona burning, then past the West Virginia still shooting flames and dense black smoke into the air, past the Oklahoma bottom side up, and then the Utah, and back around again.

After things had settled down and a steaming watch had been set, a friend and I sat dawn on the torpedo tubes at the top of the engine room hatch in the cool night air, and tried to collect our thoughts. We were physically and emotionally exhausted. Together we pondered the imponderable. As we slowly patrolled past our burning battleships our minds rejected what we were seeing. We could not believe that Japan would have the audacity to attack us in our bastion. We finally decided that the Japs had really messed up, and that in a matter of a few months our Navy would wipe the Japanese fleet from the Pacific. We would later learn that the Japanese Navy was a skilled and deadly adversary, and that their weaponry was equal to ours, and in some cases superior. Of course two young sailors had no way of knowing that Japan’s primary objective was to force a negotiated peace, so as to secure their dominance in Southeast Asia and China.

After patrolling in the harbor all night, we went alongside the dock for fuel and provisions. We left the harbor to assume a patrol station off Diamond Head about 1200 December 8, 1941. Fires were still burning in the Arizona and the West Virginia, and great columns of black greasy smoke still rose into the sky.

We patrolled for about a week, going slowly in circles. It seemed interminable, and of course, rumors and speculation were rampant. Then one morning the fighting tops of battleships were seen moving out at Pearl Harbor. They were the Pennsylvania, the Tennessee, and the Maryland; the only battleships that were still able to get underway.

With other destroyers we formed a screen, and set a course for the West Coast. We arrived at the Bremerton Navy Yard between Christmas and New Years after a rough, cold, and depressing crossing.

And that was how the war began for the U.S.S. Case.

The United States that we had left in October, was indeed another country; a country that would never be the same again.

During the next four years the Case steamed about 325,000 miles, and participated in seven major engagements, all in the Pacific. Only three men serving on the Case lost their lives during the war, none due to enemy action. However many good men who left the Case for duty on other ships made the final descent to Davy Jones’ Locker in the defense of freedom and their country.