In the warm Hawaii sunrise of December 7, 1941, a spry set of young boys prepare for a

dramatic pitch of a baseball. The boys at home plate lie in wait, their attentive eyes on the
pitchers every move. But, time seems to halt. The pitcher stalls in mid-throw, to direct his focus
to the momentarily undisturbed sky. The distinctive, deafening roar of a Japanese Zeros engine
beckons the attention of everyone near. The boys, after the startling realization of reality, sprint
towards the chain link fence, unable to fully skid to a stop before they slam into it with a clang.
Their gaze still fixates on the sky, as the first Japanese Zero thunders past. The pilot signals the
remainder of the fleet that immediately follows with a wave of his hand. Everyone winces at the
sour, smoky smell of the planes gasoline, their hearts race from the danger of the low-flying
aircrafts. The planes bring an enormous gust of air with them, and the boys waver against the
tough wind. They cling tight to the fence, white-knuckled. All of the boys still stare in wonder and
shock through the chain links, as the planes soar away. The gravelly bellow of the engines fade
into the distance.