James P. Strickland ANDREW DAVIS TUCKER/STAFF

Paul Strickland, Louisville, Ga.:

"Man your battle stations and break out your service ammunition. The Japanese are attacking Ford Island."

Sixty years later, Mr. Strickland remembers that ominous command issued a few minutes after the 7:55 a.m. attack began and the rush as 1,000- plus sailors on the USS Helena sprang into action.

"I'm going to tell you how scared I was," Mr. Strickland said. "That," he said, pointing to a photo of a ship erupting in flames, "that is how scared I was."

The early morning hours of Dec. 7 on the Helena started like most until the command came to man the battle stations.

Seaman Strickland was a shell passer, handing up the ammunition for a turret gun. He couldn't see what was going on in the skies above as wave after wave of Japanese bombers bore down on the ships.

He felt the wrath of the attack, though, when a torpedo passed under the Oglala, a ship docked next to the Helena.

He was ordered up on deck and was soon scrambling up and down ladders lugging enormous cans of ammunition up to the anti-aircraft guns.

"These ammo cans weighed more than I did," said Mr. Strickland, who was 5 feet 9 inches tall and weighed 145 pounds at the time.

The USS Arizona was anchored off Ford Island, across the harbor from the Helena. When the Arizona exploded, he watched in horror as shrapnel sheared off the right arm of a shipmate. It wasn't until after the second wave of attacks stopped and he was sent to work damage control that he began to realize what had happened.

"We weren't surprised," he said of the attack. "You were too scared to be surprised.

"And I didn't get over that scared part for a long time."

Lindsay Wood ANDREW DAVIS TUCKER/STAFF

Lindsay L. Wood, McCormick, S.C.:

"I intended to write my letter the Sunday of the raid, but was unable to because we were called to rescue work during the middle of it," the 19-year-old civil service worker wrote to his mother, Reba Wood, in Augusta, not long after the attack on Pearl Harbor. "Everyone was afraid of the planes - they were so close, you could hit them with a rock.... Some of the boys were horror stricken."

Mr. Wood had just finished his morning shower when the attack began. He was ordered to the shipfitters shop, where he and the other workers were given 1903 Springfield rifles, six rounds of ammunition and a World War I-era helmet.

He and a buddy were sent down to Drydock No. 1, where the Cassin, Downes and Pennsylvania were under attack. His buddy was killed in a hail of shrapnel.

Mr. Wood survived the attack, and his work began in earnest at 10 a.m. when his crew frantically tried to save the men trapped in the capsized USS Oklahoma.

"They ordered us to honeycomb (the hull) - drill half-inch holes next to each other in a circle until we had completed the circle," he said. "Then we sledge-hammered the plug out.

"I don't believe I saw 20 men come out altogether.

"They were tapping all over the bottom at first, it seemed. The sound of those men begging to be rescued would wreck your mind - especially as it became less and less as their air played out."

Clinton N. Textor ANDREW DAVIS TUCKER/STAFF

Clinton N. Textor, Augusta:

"It was originally billed as Tuffy Leemans Day, in honor of the New York Giants' workhorse running back with their cross-town rivals, the Brooklyn Dodgers, as their opposition.

"The Polo Grounds was packed, and in the crowd was the entire newsroom staff of the small-city newspaper, the Easton (Pa.) Express - Easton being only 70 miles away the by Lehigh Valley Railroad. We were there through the generosity of our publisher (a quality we felt was all-too-seldom exhibited.) It was a bright crisp day, a "great day for football": Dec. 7, 1941.

"Quite early, the PA system came on to say, 'Col. Donovan, please call your office,' and the same appeal was repeated shortly thereafter. (Though few of us knew it then, he was the head of the Office of Strategic Services, the forerunner of the CIA.) Then came another announcement: 'Will all members of the armed forces please report back to base immediately.'

"It wouldn't take a managing editor to figure out something big was happening, but for a few minutes we didn't know what. Then came one of the most unusual sights anyone could ever see.

"The word must have started in the press box, high on one side of the field. Then it was as if a wind - two winds actually traveling in opposite directions - went around the packed stands as people leaned one way to hear, then the other way to pass the word on. The word, of course, was 'the (Japanese) have bombed Pearl Harbor.' (Many of us didn't really know where Pearl Harbor was, but that was soon clarified.)

"There was a quick confab in our section and then the important members of the news staff left immediately to put out an 'extra.'

"The rest of us stayed to the end of the game and a few more hours in New York. The final score is lost in memory, but the Giants lost, and lost big."

Lela H. Turnbull ANDREW DAVIS TUCKER/STAFF

Lela Turnbull, Augusta:

"It began like previous Sundays on the campus of the University of South Carolina where I was a senior. Two friends and I were walking across the historic grounds ... when someone ran up to us, very excitedly yelling, 'Pearl Harbor's been attacked!'

"We three girls look puzzled and asked, 'Where's Pearl Harbor?'

"That night my fiance, Rod Turnbull, came in from Fort Jackson ... The surprise attack with such devastating results shocked us into waking up to the realities of becoming involved in a world war. Rod and I talked about the unbelievable events of the day and how the future had suddenly changed for all of us.

"Rod had given me his fraternity pin on March 2, 1941; this was then known as 'engaged to be engaged.' We were planning a church wedding in June 1942 after my graduation. A diamond engagement ring had been ordered.

"The next day, Dec. 8, 1941, Rod called and told me he ... would come by the dormitory to see me. I was excited because I knew his 'errand' might be something special.

"There in the front parlor he placed the ring on my finger as we heard a radio ... in the next room. The voice we heard was that of our president, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, as he addressed the Congress and the American people, on 'This Day of Infamy' declaring war."

Edward C. Elliott ANDREW DAVIS TUCKER/STAFF

Retired Maj. Edward C. Elliott, Augusta:

"I was stationed at Fort Benning, Ga., when Japan attacked Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941. My assignment at that time was captain of an Officer Candidate School company of the Infantry School. Soon after the radio announced Pearl Harbor had been attacked, I called Headquarters at Fort Benning. I was told to report the following Monday morning for my regular duties.

"My OCS company of 186 trainees was being prepared for an overhead artillery firing observation. Sgt. Winthrop Rockefeller, one of the trainees and later governor of Arkansas, had an automobile with a radio. I asked permission that he drive the car to our location so we could hear President Roosevelt declare war on Japan. Gen. Omar Bradley, commanding officer of the Infantry School, and Gen. Patton, brigade commander of the Field Artillery, came for this occasion.

"The ... trainees were in stands. The automobile with the radio was placed in front of the stands and our battery-operated loud speaker was placed at the radio. President Roosevelt came on ... to declare war on Japan.

"Gen. Bradley was on my left and Gen. Patton was on my right. Gen. Patton was being his usual self, muttering swear words under his breath, as the president spoke. Gen. Bradley reached over behind me and told Gen. Patton to 'Hush!' Gen. Patton did follow orders! Standing between these two great generals on this momentous occasion was one of my most unusual and memorable experiences as a veteran of World War II."

- Compiled by Amy Allyn Swann