I still remember my late father in law's description of the attack on Pearl Harbor. He had been in the Navy reserve for several years, and was in Hawaii for annual training. He was in the infirmary at Kaneohe Naval Air Station with a minor ailment when he heard a lot of planes. He was just wondering why so many planes were in the air when the first bombs hit. He was thrust into the chaos and was immediately mobilized. Instead of being gone for a few weeks, he did not get home for the next four years. Fred was stationed on Oahu nearly the whole time, and couldn't get home, but never was shot at again. December 7, 1941 was the most dangerous day of Fred's life, and he was always grateful that he never lived through anything else like it.