Stockton's last link to Pearl Harbor

In 1941, Robert “Bob” Louie Fernandez and his father went to the post office where military recruiters were stationed. His father asked him if he wanted to join the Marines.

”I don’t know why he said that. Maybe he was trying to get rid of me," Fernandez jokes.

A Marine recruiter overheard their conversation and asked him his age. “I said, '17,' and he said, ‘You can’t get in now.' There was an Army guy sitting a little ways down. I told him I was 17 and he said to ‘come back after you’re 18.’ But a guy who was across the hall, who was a Navy guy, said ‘We’ll take you at 17.’ The Marines wouldn’t take me, the Army wouldn’t take me, but the Navy would.”

Now 99, Fernandez is still spry, though he needs a little help with a cane to walk. He still has a firm handshake and is quick to flash a broad smile. His son Bobby Fernandez, who lives in Sun Lakes, Arizona, says his dad has been recently diagnosed with dementia. He’s still pretty sharp, but his memory is fading.

In about 2016, Bobby and his wife Cindi connected his father with the Greatest Generation Foundation, an international non-governmental organization devoted to helping veterans. According to Matt Handerson with the Greatest Generations Foundation, there are only five known living Pearl Harbor veterans in Northern California. The majority are in home hospice or assisted living. The group recorded a video interview of Robert Fernandez, which is now archived in the Library of Congress.

'Ran like hell'

Fernandez, still 17, was a seaman first class assigned to the U.S.S. Curtiss moored at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. He had been aboard the AV4 seaplane tender for about 3 months, serving as a mess cook in the ship’s galley. His job was to set up tables, do kitchen prep, clean up and serve coffee to the other sailors.

Fernandez says he had shore leave scheduled for Dec. 7. He planned to go dancing and have a few beers with his pals at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel. “I never did get my liberty," he says.

On the morning of the Pearl Harbor attack, Fernandez got up around 5:30 a.m. to get the mess hall ready for breakfast. During the meal, a loud explosion could be heard through an open hatch. An alarm sounded and everyone scrambled to their battle stations, he said on video.

“When the alarm went off I ran up that ladder to the port side and an airplane just went by me,” said Fernandez. It was so close, about 20 feet away, he could clearly see the pilot and the red circle symbol on the side of the Japanese plane. “He went by and I saw that red ball. I just ran like hell to my battle station.”

Fernandez went down three decks, opening a hatch, climbing through the small opening and resealing the hatch behind him on each deck until he got to the magazine room where ammunition was stored. The crew had trained for this. He and his mates made it in record time but had to wait for the officer with a key to come unlock the ammo. While they waited, the battle raged above. Some of them curled up on the floor and cried for their mothers, fathers and families. Finally the officer showed up and unlocked the ammo.

“It was scary. Very scary,” Fernandez said. “You just got to do what you’re told to do and do the best you can.” The crew then moved the heavy ammo by hand, bucket-brigade style. “It (the battle) was about an hour and fifteen minutes, I believe. It seemed like a hell of a long time, but that’s all it was.”

According to Naval History and Heritage Command, the Curtiss was hit twice by bombs. About 20 men were killed and another 50 or so injured. The crew was ordered to abandon ship. However, the heavily damaged vessel was repaired a little more than a month later.

'All those guys are dead'

Fernandez’s son Bobby says his father didn’t tell many stories about Pearl Harbor or the war.

“He never spoke about things unless someone would ask,” Bobby says, “and more than not, he would just say ‘and that's all I remember/know.’”

One story that Bobby does recall is when his dad had to do guard duty on the ship after the attack. Fernandez and another sailor were to stand watch on the fantail, the deck at the rear of the ship. The other sailor suggested they should do two-hour shifts and offered to take the first. He told Fernandez to grab a blanket and get some shuteye.

He asked Fernandez where he was going to sleep. Fernandez pointed to a wall and said, “Over by that bulkhead.”

Exhausted by the long, stressful day, Fernandez fell asleep quickly.

Hours later, the other sailor, who was late in waking Fernandez up, roused him and asked, “Where the hell were you?” Confused, Fernandez answered, “I’ve been here all the time. Right where I said I was going to be.”

The other sailor said, “We didn’t bother to look over here because all those guys are all dead.” Apparently, thinking Fernandez was a casualty, the crew had placed dead crewmen around him while he slept.

“I think he (besides having dementia) just does not want to remember some things,” says Bobby. “I cannot blame him. War is a horrible thing.”

After the war, Fernandez got married and moved around California, eventually settling down in Stockton. Bobby says Fernandez and his wife, Mary, joined a dance club. She would always have the first dance and when she got tired he would dance with all the other ladies the rest of the night. So, in a way, Robert Fernandez finally got his liberty.

This article originally appeared on The Record: Robert Louie Fernandez is Stockton's last link to Pearl Harbor