This summer marks the 75th anniversary of the end of World War II. To honor those who served, I plan to write a series of articles, from the start of the war to the surrender ceremonies on Sept. 2, 1945.

This first article is from the diary of a Schofield Barracks wife who lived through the Dec. 7, 1941, attack. Mahalo to Jim Muir for sending it to me.

“December 7th, 1941 was a beautiful Sunday morning in Hawaii and most of us at Schofield were taking advantage of Sunday to sleep late,” wrote Ruth Lawson, whose husband, Richard, was an Army captain.

“We were just stirring ourselves at about ten minutes of eight when a loud din of planes was heard — nothing unusual on an Army post — until they came down in such screaming power dives that you felt surely they were going to crash.

“Then came loud explosions that made the walls of our one-floor stucco bungalow seem to push in and then be sucked out.”

After dropping their bombs, the planes machine-gunned the quarters and barracks. “We saw the Rising Sun on the planes, but still couldn’t believe our eyes.”

Over 350 Japanese planes struck at Oahu bases, such as Wheeler Army Air Field/Schofield, Hickam, Pearl Harbor, Ewa Marine Base, Kaneohe Naval Station and Bellows.

Her husband ran the eight blocks to division headquarters, dodging from tree to tree as he was shot at by machine guns the whole way.

“The bullets or shell casings were hitting continuously on our roof and the streets and sounded like hail. Our house was located across from the 19th Infantry Barracks and the hospital. Both seemed to be objectives of their strafing, so we received a double dose of it too.

“The attack lasted from about 7:55 until about 8:30 a.m., and I shudder to think if it had started a little later, because normally at 8:15 the children were all out waiting for the Sunday school buses, and the casualties would have been terrible.

“In the midst of the attack someone pounded on our front door,” Lawson continued. “With my heart in my mouth, I went to answer it, half expecting a Japanese soldier, but it was one of our GIs.

“Just as he started to say something, a Japanese plane flew so low over the corner of our roof I had a brief glimpse of the pilot’s face. Bullets and shell casings spattered on our front walk so close the young soldier jumped inside the door almost knocking me down.

“He immediately straightened his helmet and standing up straight, said ‘As I was saying, lady, if you get dressed I’ll take you to a safer place.’ It was only then that I realized I was still in my nightgown and bare feet.

“During a slight lull in the strafing, I retrieved Jeannie, then 5, with the soldier helping mother. We dashed across the street to the lower floor of the 19th Infantry Barracks where we found about twenty women and children from our area.

“There were guards at the door and soldiers at the windows shooting at the low- flying planes. Also seeking shelter with us were pet dogs and cats who cowered at our feet.

“I haven’t said much about the terrible noise of that constant attack and that peculiar feeling of hearing the power dives and wondering whether that bomb would hit our house.

“Everyone was remarkably calm and I only saw two that were near hysteria. We had plenty of time to wonder where our husbands were and whether the enemy had landed.”

At about 4:30 p.m. an officer told them to return to their homes, pack one small bag and meet in the quadrangle to be taken to a safer place.

That night, all women and children were evacuated from Schofield. “We felt that our buses were gleaming targets for any Japanese planes. We didn’t understand why they didn’t come back and finish us off when they had knocked us to our knees.

“It is only about 18 miles to Honolulu, but moving without lights on a two-lane road crowded with military vehicles, took us over three hours.

“When we reached Pearl Harbor, we saw a scene of destruction lighted by large fires from ships still burning.

“One shell exploded in a field to our left, violently shaking our bus and showering it with rocks and dirt, but not a person said a word, not even a child whimpered. Jeannie, who was sitting on my lap, tightened her arms around my neck and hid her face in my shoulder.”

For seven days the women and children stayed at schools and private homes, until they could return to Schofield. Her husband, Dick, was with troops defending Oahu’s North Shore.

All the islands were placed under martial law. Radios were silenced but kept on for announcements made by the military.

“We returned to Schofield to find our bedroom and bath window panes painted black, and a trench dug in the yard in case of air raids.

“We were told to camouflage the mounds of dirt at the side of the trench with flowers, which made them appear to be graves.

“We had to have our evening meal finished and be in our black-out rooms every evening at 5:45 p.m. and were not allowed out until morning.

“Our husbands were all at battle stations so we rarely saw them. There was always a guard around our quarters. At night, the stillness was oppressive, then it would be punctured by a ‘halt’ and sometimes a bang or two. The soldiers were nervous and shot at shadows most of the time.“

On Christmas Day 1941, Ruth, her mother and daughter and many others, along with hundreds of wounded soldiers were put on the Lurline, Monterey or Matsonia, guarded by four destroyers, for San Francisco.

“After we had a light supper that first night, Jeannie and I walked along the deck. She squeezed my hand and said, pointing to a very bright star in the southern sky, ‘That is our Guardian Angel, she’ll take care of us.’ (A little child comforting her mother.)

“Each night after supper Jeannie and I would go up on deck to see that the bright star, our Guardian Angel, was always with us.”

“I have been convinced more than once since that fatal morning that Americans — women and children, too — still have what it takes.”

The Lawsons settled in Marion, Ohio, for the next several years. Except for a few weeks in 1943, when her husband was sent back for training at the Army Staff College, the family did not see him until August 1945, when he was assigned to Fort Riley, Kan.

“There we celebrated Christmas with thankful hearts that Dick was safely home and our family was reunited again.“

While fighting in New Guinea, U.S. troops captured a Japanese headquarters and found a report of the Hawaii attack complete with some air photos of Pearl Harbor and Schofield Barracks.

“One low-level picture included our quarters, clearly showing our house number on the sign in our front yard,” Lawson concludes. “I wonder if that photographer could have been the pilot I saw when I answered the door that morning in my nightgown!”

Ruth Lawson died in 1995, five years after her husband, Richard. Their daughter, Jean Carlston, is 83 and lives in Virginia Beach, Va., still protected by her guardian angel star.

Have a question or suggestion? Contact Bob Sigall, author of the five “The Companies We Keep” books, at Sigall@Yahoo.com.