“Colonel Farnum urged his light gray Mercury toward his office. ‘We either get through this or we die,’ he told himself, jumping out of his car to join his officers and men fighting fires, dispersing gas trucks, and helping the wounded. On a bright green patch of grass several yards square in front of Headquarters, he found the body of his inventory section chief, a master sergeant, ‘an excellent soldier, good-looking, well-built, and a wonderful person.’ Velvety petunia blossoms and the ever-present red hibiscus framed his body, which was naked except for khaki trousers; his bare toes pointed to the sky. His clear blue eyes were open, and his face looked upward ‘with a normal expression on every feature.’ Little blood was visible beyond a small stain on the sergeant’s shoulder. He might have stretched out to relax for a moment, except that his head lay several feet from his body. [Colonel] Farthing thought that a large piece of shrapnel had beheaded him quickly and smoothly, ‘as though he had been struck with a knife so whitehot it had coagulated his blood on the spot…’”
- Gordon Prange, Dec. 7, 1941: The Day the Japanese Attacked Pearl Harbor
Gordon Prange is an excellent example of life’s callous indifference to our projects and passions. Prange studied Pearl Harbor for thirty-seven years, interviewing participants from both America and Japan, and from all the rungs of the ladder. While undertaking this work, he developed a number of manuscripts. Before he was able to publish anything, however, he died of cancer at the age of sixty-nine. Eventually, Donald Goldstein and Katherine Dillon posthumously edited his work for publication.
According to Goldstein and Dillon’s introduction, Dec. 7, 1941 is the last of five books – and the third about Pearl Harbor – to emerge from Prange’s manuscripts. (I believe a sixth, about Japanese flyer Mitsuo Fuchida, was eventually published later). It is also, perhaps not coincidentally, the most basic.
Whereas At Dawn We Slept and Pearl Harbor: The Verdict of History excavated intelligence failures both large and small, casting judgments on those Americans who shared the blame for the disaster, Dec. 7, 1941 is a straight-down-the-middle recreation of the fateful date itself. It is essentially an oral history, and while it has its merits, it pales in comparison to Walter Lord’s Day of Infamy.
Dec. 7, 1941 begins on the eve of Japan’s dawn attack, and ends in the hours that followed. For whatever reason, I found the before-and-after to be the most fascinating sections, following people first as they lived the last moments of peace, and later as they tried to comprehend the epochal change worked upon their world.
Most of Dec. 7, 1941’s 393 pages of text, though, are devoted to a blow-by-blow account of the attack. Here, I suppose I should interpose what I found to be the merits of Prange’s effort. Above all things, this is a collection of personal anecdotes, many of them gathered by Prange himself in interviews. If you read any Pearl Harbor book today, you will find the debt it owes to Prange in the endnotes. Checking the notes section of Dec. 7, 1941, you begin to get an inkling of the work that Prange did. And this isn’t just archival research, sitting in a library looking through documents. No, Prange was creating history by getting eyewitnesses to talk about what they’d seen.
For this reason alone, and for Pearl Harbor students in particular, Dec. 7, 1941 is required reading.
In other respects, unfortunately, this is a bit of a slog.
All the ingredients are here; a literary chef is not.
Dec. 7, 1941 is dense and slow-moving. It is absolutely crammed with stories, so much so that the narrative cannot breathe. There is no pacing, no modulation of tone, no attempt at artistry. This is really a bit of an info-dump.
The biggest problem is that Prange, and his co-authors, made no attempt to cull their material for the best bits, or to pare down storylines to something more manageable. Instead of following a few – or even a dozen – men and women throughout the course of the day, Dec. 7, 1941 throws out dozens upon dozens of names, spread out all over Pearl Harbor. Most characters are mentioned only once and disappear. For those that are reoccurring, it is extremely difficult to remember who they were, where they were, and what they were doing. On the very last pages, appended as an afterthought, is a “cast of characters” that gives you the names of perhaps ten percent of the men who appear on these pages. This is not, I hasten to add, helpful in the least.
Compounding the storytelling issues is the lack of a map of Pearl Harbor. Thus, not only do you have to keep a running tally of an enormous number of perspectives, but you need to periodically stop to figure out where this or that person is located. The lack of the map and the half-assed cast of characters leads me to believe that Dec. 7, 1941 was an afterthought production, a last squeeze of the Prange-lemon.
While confusion is a major flaw, repetitiveness exacerbates the problem. The lack of effort put into choosing worthwhile story threads, while excising those that are unenlightening or duplicative, means that you keep getting the same information over and over. For instance, Prange and his co-authors quote as many as ten different people, all saying a variation of the same tale: that they thought the early Sunday morning explosions were military exercises. Once is enough. Hit that point and move on. It is almost unfathomable, but Dec. 7, 1941 turns one of the most momentous days in history into a jalopy with a flat tire.
History is not history unless it is remembered. And memories remain truest – though not necessarily true – when they are written down. For that reason alone, I must give Prange – and Dec. 7, 1941 – its due. The subject of Pearl Harbor can be revisited, retold, and reinterpreted in the future, long after all survivors have gone to their reward, because of Prange’s efforts.
With all that said, if you are looking for the best book on that terrible day, Lord’s Day of Infamy remains the gold standard. It covers the exact same ground, but with crispness and artistry.