Calm After Storm

Some they buried in Nuuana Cemetery, on a green slope overlooking Honolulu and the sea; when the earth there was too crowded to take more, they dug trenches on Red Hill above Pearl Harbor, and the rest were buried there.

On the raw earth of more than 2,000 graves they piled asters, poinsettias, hibiscus flowers, and over the dead, Marines standing honor guard fired three farewell volleys. Their elegy was pronounced by Captain William A. Maguire, Chaplain of the Fleet. Said he: "Ah ... if every American had seen how quietly, yes quietly, men suffered, how gallantly they died, how courageously they thought about the next man, they would glory."

Below Nuuana, the city under martial law was almost as calm as in peacetime. Except for the concrete barriers being hastily erected in the streets, Honolulu looked pretty much as it did before. The Army set up a rent commission, and merchants were watched to prevent food profiteering.

The Royal Hawaiian Hotel was almost deserted. At Waikiki tourists still lolled about on the abbreviated beach (a good hunk of it was washed out to sea last year), but in houses all over the Honolulu hills housewives were trying to figure out where to put an air-raid shelter. Almost 5,000 volunteers flocked into Queen's Hospital to contribute blood to a blood bank.

But only in the daytime was Honolulu active. At night the blackout was complete--blacker than London ever had been. Most people dined at 5:30 and nobody went about after dark. In the beginning, sentries in the streets shot first and challenged afterwards. Kamaainas (long-settled whites) had to entertain themselves with card games and gossip at home in dim-lit, tightly-sealed rooms. No liquor was to be had, and candy sales went up with a rush. The hotspots--from the Royal Hawaiian to the plebeian Venice Cafe were shut tight. Overhead the air patrols constantly thundered.

Honoluluans were limited to ten gallons of gas a month. Although the Territory had only enough food stored to last for 60 days, no Islander doubted that adequate shipments from the mainland would be maintained. Reason for Hawaii's limited food lay in the fact that the sugar and pineapple factors never planted the diversified crops advocated by the military. Ironically, most of the handful of truck farms in Hawaii were in the hands of resident Japs.

Last week the Army was quickly putting into effect its M-Day plan, calling for the hurried planting of potatoes and other crops. But Hawaii was a long way from self-sufficiency.

The Department of Agriculture's Surplus Marketing Administration drew upon existing stockpiles to help the Islands. Last week Franklin Roosevelt allocated $10,000,000 from his emergency fund to bolster SMA's assistance to Hawaii.

The food that goes to Hawaii will probably not only feed the populace, but also afford a chance to save the factors' crops. The ships that carry supplies to the Islands may well take back sugar or pineapples instead of returning in ballast.

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