Two Georgia men recall Dec. 7, 1941, attack

By Bill Torpy

The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

Seventy years ago this Wednesday, at a then-obscure Pacific military installation, a couple of terrified young soldiers named Bob were getting their first taste of battle.

Bob Kerr had never driven a truck, but was desperately trying to chauffeur one filled with dead and wounded soldiers to a field hospital. Bob Schmutzler was firing shots from a rifle at Japanese warplanes, caught so off-guard his anti-aircraft station was still covered with canvas.

The two men are among perhaps two dozen Georgians still living who were at Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941. As they commemorate the day that will live in infamy, they mourn not just for those who fell in those 110 minutes of chaos, but for comrades who have died since the last big Pearl Harbor observances 10 years ago. So few are left that, on Dec. 31, the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association, a national organization that has pulled together veterans for more than 50 years, will cease to exist.

“We had to do it because our membership is dwindling,” said Kerr, who was once president of Georgia’s chapter. “The last two meetings we had, we only had two people show up — and I was one of them. We had 48,000 men under arms on Oahu that morning Dec. 7 and now we have 2,000. When you have someone showing up to a meeting anymore, they’re dragging oxygen or in a wheelchair.”

Still-spry men like Kerr and Schmutzler are left to carry on the message, to speak to civic clubs and churches and schools about the tragedy of that day and the resilience of a country dragged into World War II with that 1941 sneak attack. This year’s Pearl Harbor day will kick off nearly four years of 70th anniversary World War II observances, keeping Kerr, Schmutzler and their steadily decreasing ranks busy.

Almost 16 million Americans served during World War II. But only about one in 10 are still alive, with more than 700 dying each day.

“It’s the passing of a great generation,” said Nick Mueller, one of the founders of the National World War II Museum in New Orleans. “We’ll have a good number of them around for another 10 years. But they’re going quickly.”

Those there at the start of WWII are now about 90 years old and have different fights. Kerr, who is 90, battles leukemia and diabetes. Schmutzler, 88, is getting over a broken hip.

They are casual acquaintances. Despite their ailments, both are still active, displaying the spirit that served them well as warriors. Both saw plenty of combat after the Pearl Harbor attack, Kerr as a B-25 gunner and Schmutzler as a jungle fighter. Years later, with the horror they endured still scorched in their minds, both became chaplains and both are still throwing themselves into charitable endeavors. In fact, Kerr will spend Wednesday at his normal weekly gig: volunteering at a senior citizens home.

The Pacific Ocean and mild temperatures made Hawaii a pleasant place to live for young men like Kerr and Schmutzler. That peace was shattered just before 8 a.m. on Dec. 7, 1941. Schmutzler was in the mess hall and Kerr in his barracks. Both heard the planes and assumed it was yet another Navy practice run, albeit closer than usual.

“We realized it wasn’t that when the bullets started ripping through our mess hall,” Schmutzler recalled. The base had just come off alert, so his team’s anti-aircraft guns were covered with canvas and out of action. He and his comrades stormed into a storage area, grabbed rifles and became an anti-aircraft battery, standing and shooting at planes as they got strafed.

Sure, it was a crazy, Schmutzler said, “But I was 18, you’re not going to die. You’re not going to get hit.”

Kerr’s barracks at Hickam Field housed 3,000 men and was a perfect target. The mess hall suffered a direct hit, killing 35 men, he said. Kerr left the building and stepped over a cook with his guts blown out. A friend staggered by, shot in the elbow. Vehicles veered in every direction.

“People say we were caught with our pants down, which was true,” Kerr said. “We were prepared but we weren’t ready. [The Japanese pilots] did an excellent job. They had free run and did what they wanted.”

About 2,400 Americans died in the attack, the first of more than 400,000 to die in the war.

“Pearl Harbor was a defining moment in our history,” said Mueller. “It set in motion a set of powerful changes in the world that are still being felt today. It was a crucible that shaped the character of the nation.”

Kerr flew in bombers and made about 40 runs. He was later reassigned after having severe hearing loss in one ear.

Schmutzler was trained in anti-aircraft guns, but soon those weapons were more useful in the jungles aimed horizontally to fire at Japanese troops.

One night at a place they called Hill 700 on Bougainville Island in the Solomon Islands, members of Schmutzler’s unit aimed their guns and searchlights on an open field. When they heard the enemy creeping in, they flipped on the lights and illuminated their doomed foes, who came wave after wave after wave. “It was devastating,” said Schmutzler, a bantam of a man with a booming voice. “It was like coming across a lighted football field. You mowed them down.”

That fatal gallantry left a mark on the men who killed them. “American soldiers think for themselves,” Schmutzler said. “I didn’t fight for my country. That was the end result. I fought to stay alive.”

Schmutzler stayed in the Army for 20 years, retiring in 1960. He raised two sons — including one who also went to war, serving as an Army major in Iraq. Schmutzler lives with Louisa, his wife of 57 years, in Griffin.

Kerr stayed in the Army for 23 years, retiring in 1963. He later worked as a comptroller at RCA and raised two sons. His wife, Mary, died in 2006. He lives near East Point. Kerr has been back to Hawaii 11 times.

In 1992, Kerr and 10 of his Pearl Harbor comrades met with 14 pilots and crew members who once tried to kill them.

The Americans arrived first on the island and then, after a day of sightseeing, went to the airport to meet with those who once bombed and strafed them.

The elderly Japanese warriors huddled in a cluster several yards from the Americans.

“Most of them had their wives, we had our wives,” Kerr recalled. The two sides stood apart warily. “It was like cats and dogs looking at each other. Fifty years ago, they were trying to kill us and then we killed them. There was still some of that inside feeling there.”

Then one of the Americans strolled over and put a lei on one of them. “That broke the ice,” he said.

Kerr was curious. What was it like from up there on that 1941 day?

“They were surprised at seeing people run in so many directions,” Kerr said “They expected to see more opposition. They never believed it would be so easy.”

The two groups stayed together for a week, touring and visiting some sites together. “It wasn’t for one side to forgive the other or vice versa. It was simply an exchange of ideas,” Kerr said.

Kerr, who is scheduled to speak at 11 a.m. Sunday at Falcon Field in Peachtree City, said he still likes to exchange ideas with anybody who will about the war. Mostly, he likes to talk to kids.

“The schoolbooks today don’t say much about World War II,” he said. “I like to talk to sixth, seventh and eighth graders. They seem to be the most interested. They ask the most questions. Basically, it’s one day in history that stands out. We don’t want it to die.”