A Teacher’s First-Hand Account: A Nine-Year-Old Experiences Pearl Harbor

Our guest author, Joyce Cassidy Toth, shared the following story with her students every year during her teaching career.


When I tell people that I was at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, the usual question is, “Were you a nurse?” Hardly! I was nine years old, living with my mother, father, and a five-year-old brother in Naval Housing, close to Pearl Harbor and one block from Hickam Field where so many planes never got off the ground. My father was a civilian employee at the shipyard.


We were walking to Sunday Mass at the Block Arena, inside the gate of the naval base. All of a sudden, we saw a formation of planes just clearing the mountains. My mother was concerned about the number of fighter planes, but my father assured her that it was just a sham battle.


A short time later, as we stood in the street, we saw the telephone-pole-high Zeros with rising suns on their wings as we made eye contact with the pilots. They did not strafe the street where we were standing but saved their ammunition for the planes at Hickam Field and the ships at Pearl Harbor. It was obvious that it was no sham battle as we heard explosions and saw smoke billowing into the sky.
 
My brother and I together with my mother returned home, while my father went on to Pearl Harbor to help those he knew were under the barrage. The chaplain in the Block Arena gave him and others who were gathered for Mass final absolution and blessing before all dispersed, all running to do whatever was possible in the situation.


My father, Mike Cassidy, helped pull men from the fiery waters of the harbor. Between waves of planes, he and others cowered under concrete overhangs before again trying to assist the burned and drowning men. He never got over what he saw—men, dead and dying, and ships exploding and sinking. He was officially commended for bravery on this day, the first day of WWII.
 
My mother, brother and I left Naval Housing, and headed into Honolulu in a neighbor’s car. There were ten of us in a sedan. After passing a small airport on the way to town, we looked back at the highway where a bomb had fallen and a crater had formed.


We knocked at the door of mutual friends who were unaware of the attack on Pearl Harbor and twelve of us spent three days in that tiny apartment. It was near the water reservoir, and we had to lie on the floor while armed marines checked in yards and bushes for parachutists who were reported poisoning the water supply. Rumors flew. I remember my mother’s fear during those three days: that we would be taken prisoner.
 
We did not know if my father was alive, and he had no way of knowing where we were. It was not until martial law was declared that some semblance of order prevailed. It was a relief when we returned home to know that we all were safe, though still very frightened and bewildered. Shrapnel holes in the walls of our home were evidence of the attack and until we returned to the states in 1944, I carried a gas mask to school, boarded the bus in darkness because of the blackout, and spent time in both earthen and concrete bomb shelters when an air raid siren went off.

Veterans Ceremony for Mission Viejo a few years back! Joyce's husband Pete
is a World War II Navy veteran, who served in the South Pacific, age 95.

During my years as a teacher, I would tell my story to the students every December 7. Many foreign students, who had seen war in their countries, found it difficult to believe that, yes, I had truly experienced war in one infamous day in Hawaii.
 
Joyce passed on her first-hand experience to later generations of students, keeping this World War II memory alive.

Submitted by Guest Author, Joyce Cassidy Toth


Joyce returned to school at age 36, earning a BA degree in English and Spanish 1972, a Teaching Credential in English 1973, and a MA degree in 1974. She taught English to intermediate grade students in the Los Angeles School District and in the Palos Verdes School District, and English at Cal State Long Beach during her MA studies. She taught for 17 years at Long Beach City College in the English as a Second Language program where many of her students were refugees from Southeast Asia.

This story is a good teaching example of another MOTAL article by Guest Author, Steve McCarthy.  Click on the link below to read all about how it relates to this story.
Getting a Grip on History: "Generational History: A Personal Perspective About Teaching."