A Pearl Harbor survivor, in his own words

Chad W. Todd and Cedric W. Todd

Private First Class Cedric W. Todd was stationed at Wheeler Army Airfield in Hawaii on Dec. 7, 1941 as an aircraft mechanic in the 72nd Fighter Squadron. Later in life, he was a member of the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association (PHSA).

Cedric Todd was my father. He was born on July 21, 1918 on a farm in Shabbona Township, DeKalb County, Illinois. He grew up on Depression-era farms on the northern Illinois prairie where he learned agriculture, machinery maintenance (including engine repair), hunting, fishing, trapping and photography. After spending two years as a blacksmith’s apprentice, he enlisted in the U.S. Army Air Corps at age 22 in Fall 1940 and requested assignment to Alaska or Hawaii so he could be there on Day One of the coming war. He got Hawaii — and his wish.

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I was named after a friend of Cedric’s who was killed in the attack, a man he referred to as “Chadwick.” He never told me his full name.

After the war, Cedric returned to Illinois to farm. On the side, he did carpenter work. In 1957, he gave up farming and became a self-employed general contractor, an occupation he followed until his retirement in Cedar Rapids, where he passed away on April 23, 2001.

The following are stories he wrote during the last three years of his life.

Two new squadrons formed

In early October 1941 there were two new units created with 225 enlisted men and 27 officers. The new 72nd and 73rd Pursuit Squadrons were attached to the 15th Pursuit Group for rations and quarters and were supposed to belong to the 19th Bombardment Group in the Philippines.

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At Wheeler, there were four sets of double hangers with a taxi strip and parkway between the hangers and a runway. Behind the hangers was about a 48-foot street parallel with the runway. A vacant block in between Hangers 2 and 3 was filled with tents. This was the same tent area that we were housed in when we first came to the Island, and this was the area that we were in when the bombing took place. My tent was directly across the street from the Post Exchange.

We had no planes. We were waiting for new planes from the States and transportation to the Philippines.

Wartime Alert

After the forming of the two new squadrons, an order came from Washington to go on a full wartime alert. We were issued side arms and rifles with live ammo, along with gas masks and helmets. We did not go anywhere without them, until Dec. 4.

The planes were dispersed, armed and ready for flight. There was a patrol in the sky at all times. On Dec. 4, the alert was canceled. We turned in our guns and the planes had all of their armament and radios removed. They were washed and lined up in front of the hangers, 24 inches between tips and 36 feet from nose to tail.

The morning of Dec. 6, we were to fall out and stand inspection at 9:00 in the morning. At 10:00 the inspection was called off. All who did not have any duty could have a pass to go into town. We had not had a pass for over two months, so most of us took our passes.

My friend Len Egan and I went to town with some others and had a couple glasses of wine to celebrate our first year out of the states. One more year and we were going home, we thought. We came back in time for evening chow and decided to go to the post theater and see a show. I do not remember what the show was or anything about it, but the short serial film that night was Don Winslow of the Navy and “The Attack on Pearl Harbor.”

The next morning, we experienced the real thing. We did not have Don Winslow to fight the Japs.

The rising sun strikes before breakfast

Len and I had agreed that we would meet at the chow hall Sunday morning, go to church services and afterward work in the lab. At about 10 minutes before 8:00, I was in my Class A uniform and ready to leave for chow. I stepped from the tent; my friend Chadwick was walking along the street.

I heard a plane and the chatter of a machine gun. I looked up and saw a plane release a bomb that looked like it was coming right at me — I could see the big red ball on the wings. I let out a yell for my Chadwick and the men in the tent and dove for my helmet and gas mask, which were under my bunk. Then everything went black.

When I came to, my nose and mouth were bleeding. The tent was down on top of me; as I tried to crawl out from under the tent, I put my hand in a pool of blood. I tried to talk to the other men that were in the tent but I did not get an answer.

The planes continued to strafe after I got out of the tent, which I peeled back to find the other five guys dead. I started to get out of there and I stopped next to Chadwick and he was dead also.

I did not have a scratch. The bleeding was caused from concussion. My teeth were knocked loose and never set tight again.

I took off up the street, away from the flight line when a Jap plane came down the street below the treetops, strafing as he came. Another man and I tried to get behind a tree that was only about half big enough to shield us. Another fellow dropped to his knees out in the center of the street and began praying. A ring of bullets went around him and not one touched him.

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We all went on up the street and into a building so we could get away from the strafing. After the Japs quit strafing we all went to the hanger where our guns were stored.

The door to the gun vault had a padlock on it. I found a large bar in the rubble and we were in the process of breaking the hasp when a second lieutenant stepped up with a drawn .45 in his hand saying, “You are all under arrest for breaking into government property.” Someone grabbed the bar from my hands and hit him. We got our guns and ammo.

I went back to the squadron area and started to help carry wounded to the dispensary. There was no room for the wounded, so we laid them on the lawn.

At about that time the Jap planes came back. We all took cover the best we could. A few of the men were out trying to shoot down some planes. A guy named Severoid (a big Swede) and another named Watkins were going out to the flight line to mount an air-cooled flex machine gun in the rear seat of an AT6 when a Jap plane started coming over. Watkins said, “Oh what wouldn’t I give for a tripod.”

Severoid grasped the gun by its barrel and placed in on his shoulder. “What better one do you want?”

Watkins put a belt of ammo in the gun. They got their plane, but Severoid had a broken shoulder and burned hands.

After the raid we all got busy and started to clean the bombed out hangers and rebuild planes. There were close to two hundred planes on the field before the raid that were flyable.

We now had only four. By the next morning there were eight. And this continued to grow as the days passed.

We never got back to our full strength of planes until after the first shipment came from the States. The last plane was a cross between a P36 and a P40. It had a P36 engine, fuselage, and tail, with P40 wings, landing gear and armament, and it flew.

Cedric W. Todd was stationed at Wheeler Army Airfield in Hawaii when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. He passed away in 2001. His account is edited for clarity and brevity.

Chad W. Todd of Marion, a retired engineer, has done presentations about his father’s experience during the Pearl Harbor attack for schools and civic groups.