Early in December I took a Transport from New York, leaving Eleanor and Shirley behind, Shirley to continue at Ashley Hall until her graduation in June, when they would both join me in Honolulu.
I recall an incident that occurred during the trip on the Transport. Among the passengers were Brig. Gen. George Pillsbury and his wife. General Pillsbury, a distinguished Engineer officer (he had made the highest grades ever made by a cadet at West Point) had recently retired and was in route to San Francisco, where he was to make his home. His family and I had a small table in the Dining Room, and in the course of the conversation one day the subject of Midway Island came up. I told them about the trip I had taken to Midway on the Itaska and I told them about a large silver loving cup that had been given to the cable station by the passengers of the Mongolia. In 1906, I told them, the Pacific Mail Steamer Mongolia was on her way to San Francisco from Yokohama. On board was the then General Manager of the Cable Company and his daughter, a very beautiful and attractive girl. She had heard many tales about the Midway cable station, and before embarking she had begged her father to get the Mongolia to go enough out of its way enough to stop at Midway for a short stay. Her father finally agreed to ask the President of the steamship company, who was a friend of his, to instruct the Captain of the Mongolia to do so. The instructions received by the Captain specified that the ship was not to be taken within three miles of the shore on account of the coral reefs that were known to exist.
When the Mongolia arrived, however, the Captain, noting how clear and blue the water was, decided it would be safe and save time to come in nearer the shore. He ran aground on a reef, and after trying in vain for some days to get off the reef, he transferred some 600 passengers and crew together with all the provisions, liquors, stores and chefs ashore, when the cable operators vacated their barracks and installed the passengers in them. This holiday, certainly under very unusual conditions, lasted for several weeks and the passengers were so delighted with it that they gave the cable station the beautiful loving cup of which I had spoken.
Upon the completion of my story Mrs. Pillsbury said: "Your story is substantially correct in the details. I was the young girl who was the innocent cause of the Mongolia's going aground." I was very glad that I had emphasized the fact that the young girl was beautiful and attractive, although I had no information to that effect.
I arrived at Honolulu on December 16, 1938, and assumed command of the H.S.C.A. Brigade, at Fort DeRussy.
During the Christmas holidays I received a cable from Dr. Louis Miles stating that your grandmother was in the hospital with double pneumonia and was in a critical condition. He sent me a cablegram each day thereafter for three or four days before she had safely passed the crisis. I learned later that, as a last resort, he had had flown from Atlanta some Rabbit serum for pneumonia that he had just heard of, and that it had probably saved her life. As a matter of fact it was the first and last time he had ever used this serum as the new antibiotic drugs were developed shortly afterwards.
Eleanor and Shirley joined me in July, 1938.
Lieutenant General C. D. Herron was in command of the Hawaiian Department during most of my three year tour. He was a very fine officer, with excellent judgement and a splendid administrator. We became, and have remained, very good friends.
I was fully occupied with studies recommending increases in the AA armament and the installation of an island wide system of AA communications, and with the location of sites for the Railway guns and the 155mm. guns on hand.
During my tour the War Department frequently alerted the Department Commander, directing him to take all steps to be prepared for an attack by the Japanese, but to avoid any publicity. I may add that at no time did the War Department ever call off an alert, leaving it entirely up to the Department Commander when to terminate each alert. As the result of these alerts the Coast Artillery Antiaircraft and Seacoast troops were actually in their firing positions, with all ammunition at the batteries and all communications installed, for about half the time.
At the time of my arrival the War Plan provided for three phases. In the 1st phase, known as the antisabotage phase, all Coast Artillery troops were withdrawn from their armament and were placed on guard of the various power, water and communication installations to protect them from sabotage. In the 2nd phase these troops were returned to man their armament, and the Hawaiian Division, at Schofield Barracks, was to come down and take over the guard duty at the public service installations.
I felt strongly that any attack by the Japanese would be made with little if any warning and that, as such initial attack would be made by sea or by air, the Coast Artillery and the Antiaircraft Artillery defenses should be manned completely in the 1st phase of the War Plan. I persuaded General Herron to have an Exercise in which, under the War Plan (Phase 1) the CAC troops were on guard duty at the beginning of the Exercise, and in which, during the night, information was received of an impending attack by morning, necessitating that Phase 2 of the Plan be put in effect. The confusion and delay in replacing the CAC personnel with Division troops, and in drawing the ammunition and installing the AA defenses, was so great the Plan was revised to require all CAC and AA armament to be manned at once in Phase 1.
General Herron retired on March 31, 1941. Major General Walter C. Short had arrived shortly before and took over command of the Department. He brought with him as a sort of Aide a Major Phillips, of the Infantry.
Shortly after his arrival General Short announced that he was going to revise the War Plan and that Major Phillips would be in charge of the revision. The Plan was changed to return to the old antisabotage phase as Phase 1. This change was made without consulting Colonel Philip Hays, General Herron's Chief of Staff, or me, or, to the best of my knowledge and belief, anyone who had had a part in the formulation of the approved War Plan, which was the result of the work of some of the ablest Department Commanders in the service. The new Plan was shortly afterwards forwarded to the War Department for approval. It is my recollection that no action was taken by the War Department during the ensuing six months before my tour expired, and I doubt if anyone in the War Department had given the matter enough consideration to realize the nature and importance of the change that had been made in the Plan by General Short.
I believe that General Short was primarily responsible for the fact that no Antiaircraft Artillery was manned at the time of the attack, on December 7th, 1941, on Pearl Harbor. I also believe, however, that the War Department was at fault in not having advised General Short as to the seriousness of the situation, in not definitely alerting him, in that it had made a practice of alerting the Department Commander frequently without ever advising him when to revert to normal conditions, and in that it had not disapproved the change in the War Plan submitted by General Short.
We all enjoyed our tour of duty at Fort DeRussy. I recall several incidents during this period.
Shirley was taking singing lessons from Mrs. Warren, an excellent teacher who each year put on a recital in Honolulu. In 1940 it was called "Melody Land" and was a reproduction, in part, of a famous musical comedy of some years past. Shirley took the part of the leading lady. Her mother had had made for her a beautiful blue, billowy dress, and I shall always remember what a beautiful picture she made as she made her entry. She stole the show. A few days later she was approached by a Hollywood movie official who was visiting in Honolulu and who had attended the "Melody Lane" performance, who asked her if she would be interested in coming to Hollywood for a screen test. He assured her that he had no doubt but that, with proper training, she could become a star.
A month or so later she was approached by the Manager of the largest TV theater in Honolulu, who told her that each year the various civic clubs and ministers of the city combined to give a "Mother's Day" celebration, which was held in his theater and which was largely attended. He said also that he usually had two solos sung during the performance, one by a soprano and one by a tenor or baritone, that he had attended the "Melody Lane" performance, and that he would like to get her to sing the soprano solo on Mother's Day. We talked it over and decided that the experience of singing before an entirely strange audience might be advantageous to her, so she agreed. On Mother's Day we slipped into the back row of seats to watch the performance. When the proper time came Shirley came out on stage and sang her song -- very well indeed I thought. She withdrew from the stage almost in tears because there had been no applause. The Manager hastened to explain that the performance was in the nature of a religious one and that no one ever applauded. He insisted that she had done well and that she should sing an encore. She came out again, very hesitantly, and sang her encore. Throughout the singing the audience was perfectly quiet. Upon its completion there was a short pause, then some one applauded, and then the entire audience gave her long and enthusiastic applause. The Manager saw her some months later and said: "I have been in the theatrical business nearly all my life. The spontaneous applause of that audience on Mother's Day was the most remarkable tribute to a singer that I have ever seen."
There was one other event during this period that, I am sure, it will not bore you to hear about.
In the summer of 1940, when your mother was a little over nineteen years old, your grandmother came to me one day and told me that she (Shirley) wanted to marry Lieutenant Eubank. My reaction was probably that of practically every father since the institution of marriage was first inaugurated. I was at a loss for words, but I finally managed to reply that the idea was absurd -- that she was entirely too young to think of getting married. We discussed the matter at length during the ensuing days. She held to the view that it was Shirley's life and happiness that was involved, and the decision was rightly hers to make. I eventually concurred, with the understanding that she would take Shirley back to the States for a while and give her an opportunity to see again the three or four boys who had been especially keen about her, and find out if she was still sure that it was Lieutenant Eubank that she wanted to marry.
They made the trip, visiting Summerville, New York and West Point (and incidentally taking in the Expositions at San Francisco and New York). Shirley never had the slightest doubt in the matter, and all concerned began to make plans for the wedding. They were married on June 28, 1941, in the Cathedral in Honolulu by the Bishop of Honolulu. She was a beautiful bride, and my emotions as I marched down the aisle with her on my arm were a mixture of pride and regret. The wedding was followed by a reception (for some 500 people) at the Pavilion Club at Fort DeRussy. After a short honeymoon at Haliewa the Eubanks returned to Fort DeRussy and occupied a very nice set of quarters there for some six or eight months, when Perry, having completed his three year tour, was ordered to Fort Hancock, New Jersey.
Shirley had never -- well hardly ever -- boiled an egg or made a bed, and I was not without some misgivings as to just how well she would be able to run a house of her own. When I observe the five wonderful children that she has managed to bring up so successfully, practically without a nurse or a maid, I realized that my misgivings were based upon the fact that I did not at the time appreciate the resourcefulness, the resilience, the determination, the adaptability and the ingenuity of an "Army Brat."