Day after day, just before surset, with simple dignity befitting the gallantry with which they died for their country, America's finest have been buried at Honolulu.
They have been laid to rest on green hills overlooking the sea—there to remain until a peaceful time when the bodies might be returned to their native soil.
This has been going on since Monday, Dec 8, the day after Japanese bombings brought death to 91 officers and 2,638 enlisted men of the Navy and 168 of the Army.
A tight-lipped group of six foot Marines in olive-drab uniforms raise their rifles and fire three volleys over the fresh earth as nightfall approaches fast. A bugle sounds taps.
A black-robed priest blesses the round with holy water and a Protestant chaplain recites the committal ceremony—then the living move back to their war jobs amid the blackout.
"Don't say we buried with sorrow," said the graying chaplain of the fleet. Capt. William A. McGuire. "Say we buried with conviction. Our men died manfully and we will wipe out that treachery, come what may. The spirit of these men lives on. I can feel it.
"Each grave is marked and each body carefully identified for shipment back to the mainland after the war is fought and won—back to home towns."
Honolulu's gardens have been stripped of flaming poinsettias—Christmas flowers—golden asters and many hued hibiscus flowers—each grave has a small boquet - Honolulu's tribute.
The first bodies were taken to Nuuanu cemetery overlooking the plam-fringed sea from which the treacherous attack was launched.
When all the space there was taken trenches were dug atop Red hill, over looking Pearl Harbor.