Standing in the Doorway

In late August 1995, I was a Navy Lieutenant Commander stationed in Pearl Harbor as the Protocol Officer for ADM Ronald “Zap” Zlatoper, a four-star Admiral and the Commander in Chief of the U.S. Pacific Fleet.

This particular week commemorated the 50th anniversary of the end of World War II.

Every Pearl Harbor survivor who could make the trip came, the youngest ones then in their late 60s to early 70s. Dignitaries and the press flocked to Oahu and, as you might imagine, the tempo was high.

As the Protocol Officer, I coordinated the CinC’s official social activities, many of which he and his lovely wife Barry hosted at their home, Quarters 37 on Makalapa Drive. This was the same house ADM Nimitz lived in when he was CINCPACFLT shortly after the day of the Japanese raid on Pearl Harbor.

With so many VIPs in town that week, the “pucker factor” was naturally high. Shepherding the chaos went hand in hand with making it all look effortless and we rarely had a minute to breathe.

But in the midst of all the crazy, there was one distinct moment that allowed me to see past the frenzy and exhale into the enormity of the reason for the gathering.

I was up at the CinC’s house on Makalapa Drive preparing for one of many receptions. The house staff was in the kitchen, the guests had not arrived, and I found myself with an unexpected, peaceful moment alone.

I stood in the doorway of the open front door gazing down the hill at Pearl Harbor.

In my direct line of sight was the low white memorial structure, long and reverse-arched, perched above the hull of the sunken battleship, USS Arizona (BB-39) and the remains of the crew sealed within.

Just inside and to the right of the front door hung an 8 x 10 enlargement of an old black and white photograph I never had the time to stop and appreciate. The photo displayed the same view, from the exact location where I stood, but taken on the morning of December 7, 1941 at the height of the attack.

There are thousands of historical photos from the attack but I’ve never seen this one again.

Like moving in and out of a portal, I gazed back and forth at the photo, then at the harbor, and back at the photo, moved by the passage of time and loss of life. The juxtaposition of the same view fifty years apart was mesmerizing.

There are many moments that stand out about that week, like meeting ADM Nimitz’ first lieutenant who gave me the inside scoop on the Admiral’s initial meeting with General MacArthur after each had just been awarded their fifth star. Or the somber reconciliation events attended by both U.S. veterans and former Japanese pilots.

But the one that cut through time was standing in an old doorway, feeling the weight of the loss, the blip of fifty years, my deep gratitude for the life I have, and the honor of serving this great country.