The Pistol [antikvár]

CHAPTER ONEWhen the first bombs lit at Wheeler Field on December 7, 1941, Pfc Richard Mast was eating breakfast. He was also wearing a pistol. From where Mast sat, amidst the bent heads, quiet mur-mur, and soft, cutlery-against-china sounds of breakfast, in a small company mess in one of the infantry quadrangles of Schofield Barracks, it was perhaps a mile to Wheeler Field, and it took sev-eral seconds for the sound of the explosions, fol-lowed soon after by the shockwave through the earth, to reach his ears. Obviously, as far as Mast was concerned during those few seconds, the United States was still at peace, although in actual fact she was already, even then, at war. Conse-quently, during those moments, Mast had no idea at all of getting to keep the pistol he was wearing.In one way it was unusual for a soldier in