Lt. Edward “Butch” O’Hare was one of the early heroes of World War II. On February 20th, 1942, as a formation of nine Japanese Mitsubishi G4M Betty bombers approached the Lexington, O’Hare single-handedly shot down three planes and damaged three more while piloting his F4F Wildcat. His actions potentially saved the Lexington carrier from disaster. Two months after his heroics O’Hare traveled back to the States and received the Medal of Honor. During this trip he returned to his hometown, Saint Louis, and on April 25th the city threw him a parade.

Aunt Frieda sent Elmer some newspaper clippings describing the festivities and celebrating O’Hare’s achievements. He was not impressed. “I see . . . that Lt. O’Hare the Navy flyer got a very warm reception in Saint Louis,” he wrote on May 6th. “He did a good piece of work, but it seems to me that ceremonies were a little strong for one man, considering all the other good flyers that are also doing their job. Typical attitude of the American public in general.”

At first blush this might seem like a jealous response, but it was no secret that O’Hare did not seek the extra attention. He reportedly wanted to return to his ship so that he could go back to the work of defeating Japan. In fairness to the American public, though, good news was a precious commodity during the early months of the war. Pearl Harbor stung in part because the Navy and Army were so ill-prepared to beat back the Japanese planes attacking them, and O’Hare more closely represented the image of steely courage under fire that Americans wanted to associate with their armed forces. In any case, while Elmer and O’Hare had radically different jobs, both men humbly took their duty to the Navy and their country seriously.

While ticker-tape parades for a single flyer might sound excessive to sailors, they did not reject other creature comforts when offered. For instance, Elmer finally got to stay at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel for his birthday on May 7th. After spending the day “play[ing] ping-pong (table tennis) at the U.S.O.” and drinking “a few cold ‘beverages’ at the local spots,” he and his shipmate Johnny checked into the iconic Waikiki Beach hotel. They were treated to a free turkey dinner (“a real meal,” a Elmer put it), a movie, and an ice cream sundae at the bar before “turning in on that thick inner spring mattress bed.” He and Johnny shared a double room, which before Pearl Harbor would have cost $22 for the night. The pair only paid fifty cents, however, “for linen and laundry change.” Despite needing to get an early start in the morning for duty, Elmer declared that “it was a memorable birthday for me. I wish I could describe how beautiful the hotel and the surrounding scenery is, but take my word, it was beautiful!”

Elmer deserved a memorable birthday, but he also needed the good night’s rest provided by the hotel’s premium mattresses. On the 22nd he admitted to his folks that he wasn’t getting enough sleep. The long hours on watch and in the engine rooms were taking their toll on the engineering crew. The ship was spending more time at sea as well, and later that month the Chew began escorting other vessels between Oahu and the other Hawaiian islands. Still, as usual, Elmer characterized himself as being “in the best of health and spirits,” and approached the discomfort poetically: “All in all we can’t complain. Good chow and bunk – lot of time on the water and lack of sleep at times . . . the roll and rock of the ship, the hum of the turbine, and steam heat on my face are part of the job. Of course,” he added somewhat cryptically, “there are other parts I can’t go into right now.”

Indeed, Elmer did have it better than many others. On November 26th, 1943, Lieutenant Commander O’Hare’s F6F disappeared during a nighttime mission over the Pacific Ocean. The Navy reported him Missing in Action. After a year of waiting and hoping, the United States government declared him deceased and released his Medal of Honor and other decorations to his wife, Rita.

“Happiness,” Elmer philosophized in late March, “is just a mental adjustment to the surrounding conditions and circumstances.” While more and more of his friends and acquaintances from back home enlisted (“the ‘corner’ [where we all hung out] must be rather dead now with most of the fellas going into the service,” Elmer remarked), the winter pall began to lift across Missouri as the first spring buds furtively popped out of skeletal twigs. Just a few blocks east of the Luckett residence on Eiler Street, the Mississippi began to shimmer again with the sun finally breaking through the seasonal gloom. Despite the war’s metaphorical storm clouds, blue skies would soon reign over Saint Louis.

As Easter approached, Elmer’s mother took the opportunity to send her son another gift box for the holiday. The egg was “beautiful and delicious,” Elmer wrote, and the “cigars are good and fresh.” The egg was so large that he ended up sharing most of it with his shipmates.

For most Americans, the World War II story in Hawaii begins and ends with the attack on Pearl Harbor. For the servicemen stationed in the Territory and for its 420,000 residents, however, the air raid’s effects continued to ripple throughout the archipelago over the next several years. For one thing FDR declared martial law there, and a series of military governors ran the territory until 1944. They suspended habeas corpus, censored all written communication, and effectively ran Hawaii as an occupied area. In early March, Elmer reported that the military government rationed gasoline on the island, but not sugar, and that the authorities set prices on all goods and services. Apparently these controls, combined with the near complete absence of tourists, had a pronounced effect on the quality of food in Honolulu. “A meal in town is rather expensive and doesn’t compare to our ‘chow’ in quality or quantity,” he reported.

One of the silver linings of martial law, at least for the servicemen, was the sudden affordability of the Royal Hawaiian Hotel. Renowned as one of the premiere and most luxurious lodgings on Waikiki, if not the entire island, the Royal Hawaiian blended the island’s regal, monarchical origins with the cultural and economic promises of American imperialism. One of Elmer’s favorite hangout spots before the War, it was too exclusive for most sailors who wanted a room to spend the night, with rates ranging between $20 and $50 a night (approximately $330 to $850 in 2020 – compare that to a night at the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan, which goes for about $715). Once the war started and the tourist trade ended, however, the military took over the hotel and began offering rooms to sailors – for twenty-five cents a night. “That expensive hotel is at our disposal,” Elmer wrote, thus beginning a months-long quest to stay at the hotel. A few rooms were available every night to sailors, but the Chew did not receive too many allocations – likely due to it being more or less permanently stationed at Pearl, whereas visiting ships brought thousands of liberty-starved seamen. “I was in hopes of going [there,]” he wrote on March 7th, “but didn’t get to make it yet. Perhaps I can make it at the next opportunity.”

The Chew’s proximity to Oahu notwithstanding, Elmer certainly deserved his chance to stay at a fancy Waikiki hotel. That February his near-constant studying paid off when he earned a new rating as Fireman First Class. In addition to another pay bump, Elmer was proud of having achieved this rating advancement at what was by Naval regulation the earliest available opportunity. “Many men spend four years in the Navy,” he later remarked, “and never do better than [Fireman First Class].” It only took Elmer fourteen months.

Once the Chew had a full compliment again following the attack Elmer had plenty of time to study. “I spend a lot of time reading,” he wrote in March. “Most of my time is spent standing in watches, reading, or studying. And arguing about the war.” He regularly listened to radio reports about fighting in the Pacific and throughout the world. “Dad, I bet you listen to all the news broadcasts too,” he wrote on February 18th. “I remember how we used to discuss them together in the living room. I sure miss our chats – don’t you?”

While Elmer found something akin to the spirited discussions he had with his father in their living room on the Chew, back home his parents ameliorated their anxiety by bragging about their son’s accomplishments. In early March they sent Elmer a clipping from the Post-Dispatch announcing the rating advancements earned by Saint Louis sailors. Elmer’s name was on the list. His letters were also becoming something of a regular report for their neighbors. “Mom, I don’t mind if you read let other people read my letters,” he assured her on March 10th. “Especially when they pay you such nice compliments about them.” Rose likely brought his letters with her when she visited the Grossmans’ that month. The war was bringing people together not just nationally, but locally as well.

Hi folks,
Today is the last day of 2019, which means it’s the last day of the year and, for people who don’t know how decades are measured, the end of one of those as well. I kid, of course . . . except that I am right. 🙂

New Years is a great time to take stock of where we’ve been and make plans for where we’d like to go,, and to think about the big moments of the past year and what they have meant in our lives. To that end, I’d like to ask you to review another year once you get tired of thinking about this one: 1941. You have now read about Elmer’s first year in Hawaii, his experiences there, his story during the attack on Pearl Harbor, and are hopefully well acquainted with the man. You’ve seen a few of his letters as well. So, the question is, what have I left out? What questions would you still like answered? Who or what should I write more about?

The blog posts I’ve uploaded over the last few months represent over 6,000 words of freewriting, which is more than enough material to work with as I begin to fashion a book chapter out of it. As you’ve been reading through it, what would like to see in future iterations of Elmer’s story?

Please let me know in the comments section below . . . and Happy New Year!

Best,
Matt