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I reach forward and unlatch the canopy, slide it smoothly back and feel the wind tousle my hair, the marvelous cacophony of the big Pratt & Whitney radial barely muted by my headset. The colorful landscape slips by below and I’m astonished by the visibility from the back seat. This, by God, is how man is intended to fly.
The Pearl Harbor Experience is the brainchild of Bruce Mayes, an aviation management safety consultant and former Aloha Airlines 737 pilot who has long been intrigued with Hawaii’s role in WWII and particularly the Japanese attack on December 7, 1941.
“You can see Battleship Row over there,” he points to Pearl Harbor, its waters glassy and mirror-like on this calm morning. But first we’ll head north to Wheeler Army Airfield to see where airplanes, equipment and buildings were damaged or destroyed on that day that will live in infamy.
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Everything in the operations center is authentic for 1941, from the period radio and telephone to the enlistment posters and pin ups on the walls to the December 8, 1941 newspapers and other paraphernalia strewn about.
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This particular day began with my arrival at Kalaeloa Airport, located on Oahu’s southwestern plain. I’m greeted there by Mayes and ushered into his office/operations center. The one-time radar facility is now decked out entirely in 1940’s décor, with period maps on the walls, era newspapers strewn about, a vintage Royal typewriter, ancient telephones; images of 40’s pin-up girls and screen stars festoon a bathroom wall. The air is thick with cigar smoke, a nod to pre-politically correct days when people smoked indoors. The ashtrays are overflowing, but Mayes tells me he doesn’t smoke.
“The cigarette butts are there simply to establish authenticity,” he says.
“Well, where’d they come from?” I ask.
“I get them from a friend who smokes,” he replies. Imagine that, borrowed butts.
In addition to the smoke, the air is redolent with the unmistakable smell of Old Spice aftershave. It’s what my dad used to splash liberally upon himself and, evidently, so did many others of his generation. The distinct sounds of round engine airplanes warming up and taking off, air traffic control radio calls, and the continuous clatter of a teletype machine can be heard. It’s all pre-recorded and played low in the background to enhance the mood.
Mayes says he’s seeking to create a total “historical immersion experience” and his efforts are spot on.
We suspend reality and turn back the clock to December 10, 1941, just three days after the attack. I am a recent enlistee, an Ensign, assigned to U.S. Navy Pacific Fleet Command. My “mission” today is to report to the Coast Guard and photograph damage to various military sites around the island so that intelligence personnel can better assess the damage inflicted. Mayes pulls a top secret file from a locked cabinet and begins the briefing. We review today’s directive from the Commanding Officer (COFAPS-1 Photo Sq), and then enter the briefing room for a review of what happened Sunday morning last.
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Your briefing includes a review of your orders and confidential information gleaned from the earliest hours of the attack.
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The low red lighting and various bits of military communications gear set the scene. Mayes brings my attention to a large map of the island with a plastic overlay that depicts the paths that the Japanese aircraft took to their targets. It’s a chilling recap of a well-organized and impeccably timed precision military campaign.
“Most people don’t realize that the entire island of Oahu was attacked that day,” informs Mayes. “In addition to Pearl Harbor, Wheeler AFB, Kaneohe, Bellows and several other sites were bombed and strafed. We’ll overfly them all.”
Mayes, the son of a life-long military pilot, moved to Hawaii with his family when he was a wee lad and played in WWII-era trenches in Pupukea on Oahu’s North Shore.
“We’d go into the pillboxes and crawl all over the gun emplacements,” he recalls. Fascinated by all things related to WWII, Mayes tells me that he can’t believe he’s managed to bring his two great loves, aviation and teaching people about the war, have come together in this enterprise.
In the darkened briefing room, Mayes delivers a short presentation that includes slides, historical footage and newsreels from 1941 that describe in shorthand the attack. I’m thinking about my late friend and neighbor Keith Hill who was aboard the USS California on December 7th. After I’d known him for 20+ years, Keith one day opened up to me and described the fear that gripped him that fateful day, his confusion and terror when the bombs began to fall. It was as if it had all happened yesterday and the tears welled up in his eyes as he described the buddies he lost that morning. While the carnage is shown on the screen, we hear the familiar strains of The Battle Hymn of the Republic and I have to excuse myself, go outside and regain my composure. It’s moving stuff.
We then head down the ramp atop a tug used to tow airplanes. We pass the flight line of the Naval Air Museum Barbers Point and see A-4s, a Huey, a Blackhawk, a CH-53, a P-3 Orion and other aircraft. Then I spot our mount for today: a spotless North American SNJ. The propeller hub sparkles in the morning sun and the airplane appears as though it recently rolled off the assembly line.
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Your mount is his beautiful North American SNJ, lovingly restored to pristine condition and gentle as a Cessna to fly.
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Mayes purchased the aircraft in 1999 after a ground-up restoration and it’s easy to see how he fell in love with it…she’s a real beauty. Mayes shows me how to climb into the backseat and then helps me put on the parachute and strap into the four-point restraining harness. As soon as he’s comfortably ensconced up front, we fire up that wonderful nine cylinder engine and are soon making wide “S” turns down the taxiway to the active runway. It’s a gorgeous morning, the air is warm, the exhaust note is glorious and the moment feels perfect.
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The backseat is comfortable and provides a
surprisingly good view. Instrumentation is
complete and controls fall easily to hand.
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I latch the canopy for takeoff, Mayes puts the kettle on the boil and soon after we’re climbing out effortlessly.
“You can see the remnants of Ewa Marine Corps Air Station down there to the right,” Bruce squawks over the intercom. “That has the distinction of being the first spot on this island that took bullets and bombs that morning.”
We’re now at 1,500 feet over the fields of Kunia, bound for Wheeler, and I ease the canopy back. Man, this is living. Mayes requests a low fly-by over the airfield and points out where the aircraft were parked and, for the most part, destroyed during the sneak attack. I dutifully take pictures but my mind wanders, enraptured by the brilliant yellow wing slicing between the cerulean sky and verdant green below.
Our next spot of interest is Haleiwa Airfield, where USAAF pilots LT Kenneth M. Taylor and LT George Welch, still up after a late night poker game, managed to get airborne to join the fight. Mayes is full of these tidbits and tells me the hard part for him is to edit himself and not go into too much detail. If anything, I’m fine with the arcane facts: they make me feel like an insider.
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You can barely make out Haleiwa Airfield, now mostly overgrown with vegetation, above the wingtip. This is where Mssrs. Taylor and Welch enjoined the fight with their P-40 Warhawks.
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As we cruise towards Kahuku, Mayes lets me take the controls. The bird feels solid and there’s great control harmony. I’m no ace,
but I believe that I could get along quite well with the SNJ.
Mayes points out the famous North Shore spot where one of our earliest radars actually detected the incoming invasion.
“The guys manning the installation that morning had been training all night and were supposed to shut things down at 7:00 a.m. When they spotted the images of the Japanese squadrons on their screen, they assumed it was an incoming flight of B-17s, so no alarm was raised.”
Soon we’re passing the Kaneohe Marine Corps Air Station, which back in the day was the Kaneohe Naval Air Station. Mayes points out where PBY Catalinas were parked and summarily picked off by the incoming wave. But it is Kaneohe Bay itself, the azure waters and spectacular coral formations, that catch the eye.
Then we head over to Bellows Army Airfield, now closed, and Mayes tells me that it’s the spot where one or more B-17s landed following their long flight from the mainland. He also asks me to keep my eyes peeled for a Japanese mini sub that reportedly ran ashore during that chaotic morning.
All too soon, we’re winging our way over the lush Nuuanu Pali and headed back to base.
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This wide angle view shows Ford Island and Battleship Row in the middle of Pearl Harbor.
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Bruce Mayes says conducting these adventure flights are a culmination of a long held dream. His passion is certainly evident.
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We’re treated to another spectacular view of Pearl Harbor on the way, and Mayes points out the wreckage of the USS Arizona and Utah (the first US warship to take a bomb) on either side of Ford Island. It’s not a huge stretch to imagine what it must have been like to be a Japanese pilot seeking out likely targets that morning.
We cruise south and then it’s time to call Kalaeloa Tower and get into the pattern. Mayes’ landing is butter smooth and I simply don’t want it to be over.
This is not just an airplane ride: it’s a genuine opportunity to become steeped in Pearl Harbor lore, to fly a warbird, to experience the island from above as few ever have. I have since informed my wife that I will quit my job and fly vintage aircraft for food. I’ll let you know how that works out.
- P.J. O'Reilley
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