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December 7th, 1941

—Pat, Yeager and I took on a load of beer at the N.C.O. club and caught the famous “longest free streetcar line in the world” to bottomside. There we were all happy, carefree we, Christmas shopping. I bought a silk kimono and scarf for the girl Claudia; Pat and Yaeger, various articles for their ones back home also. Arriving back at the club, we sat down and ordered a brew—but instead of the soothing taste of San Miguel, we heard rasping words. “You are out of the A.A.” “Yes.” “Report back to your positions.” “Why?” “Unidentified planes have been flying around tonight.” “Well Pat with this load on, I don’t know whether I can find “James” by going by way of the Rifle Range.” “ Well, here I will draw you a map. Think you will be able to find it?” “Sure.” With the aid of the crude map I manage to get back to “James” alone as Pat and Yaeger go to Rifle Range. I came into No. I machine Pit and was on guard. “They say Hawaii has been bombed.” By whom—don’t know—well if japs, let the heathen so and so come on here—yanking the gun around—after yaking awhile, no new news has come, I begin to get sleepy and crawl on the sack.