Discovering history and myth at Pearl Harbour

T ime and 9/11 may have dulled the impact of the bombing of Pearl Harbour on the American psyche, but December 7th, 1941 is still a day that will live in infamy. It would have lived in “world history”, as FDR’s speechwriter first phrased it, but the president scratched out the flatter term and replaced it with the feistier word that immortalised the phrase.

In just under two hours on that December morning, some 200 Japanese bomber and fighter planes sprung destroyed the US Pacific fleet berthed two abreast in the harbour. Twenty-one ships, 188 planes and 2,390 lives were lost – the worst day in US naval history.

The original typewritten speech, with Roosevelt’s notations all over it, is part of the museum display at the World War II Valor in the Pacific National Monument at Pearl Harbour. About 5,000 people a day stream through the gates to visit the now expanded museum, spread out across a handful of buildings on 17 pristine acres which are bathed in a near perpetual sunshine.

Upon entering, we’re encouraged to behave appropriately: no running, no spitting of gum, no talking loudly on mobile phones.

The museum’s grave purpose is emphasised by the audio guide, sombrely narrated by Jamie Lee Curtis, whose father Tony, she tells us by way of introduction, enlisted in the navy in the immediate aftermath of the attack.

Stand in front of any of the exhibits, press the relevant number on your device and Jamie is in your ear with all the details, delivered with that blend of saccharine-infused gravitas that only a real Hollywood star can muster.

The business end of the visit is a boat ride out to the USS Arizona Memorial, which comes after a 23-minute film narrated with measured effectiveness by Stockard Channing (you can never have enough star power).

The memorial itself is a beautiful white structure with two peaks at either end connected by a sag in the middle, designed to represent American pride before and after the low-point of war (imagine a large chopstick rest). Visible beneath is the rusted wreck of the Arizona and the final resting place of 1,177 mariners.

I walk around for a bit and try to take it all in. I press the button on my audio guide and Jamie is back, relaying the awful final moments of the ship and its crew. I look down at the water: there's a small oil slick floating about; the result, Jamie explains, of the ship still leaking two quarts of oil a day. It's an ecological inconvenience the government opted not to address out of respect for the dead.
Tickets for USS Arizona Memorial should be booked well in advance at recreation.gov ($1.50); the rest of the museum is free.