My step dad was in the Navy at PH at the time of the bombing. Sounded pretty horiffic hearing about the explosions, fire, and smoke.

Years later, after he passed away, my mom married another WWII vet, a marine. He survived two Pacific island landings. Funny story, he attended a class reunion with my mom. Mom went to school in Auburn, and a lot of the farmers in the Auburn and Kent valley were Japanese Americans. He was surprised as he entered the room, said he didn't know if he should duck or just start shooting. He never used the word Japanese either.

It seems like today is losing a lot of meaning with each succeeding generation.

Sg