I am living with a Pearl Harbor survivor. In 1941 my wife's family moved to Oahu, where her dad managed a YMCA and her mom worked as a secretary for a Navy officer. They were living on a cul de sac road, near the end. On December 7, when the attack began, the military men were called up. The women gathered outside to see what was happening. While they were watching, a group of planes flew over but you couldn't tell whose they were. Apparently the last plane had a bomb left, and presumably the pilot couldn't land on the carrier with it, so when he saw the group of people in the street, he dropped it. The bomb destroyed the house next door. After the planes left, Patsy's dad dug a bomb fragment out of the palm tree that she was standing in front of. Had she been taller, she would have been killed, but luckily she was just shy of 5 years old and the bomb fragment hit over her head. We still have the bomb fragment.