Army Air Forces Pvt. Francis “Dutch” Scholtz, a radio operator in the 46th Fighter Squadron, was 19 years old and stationed at Wheeler Field on Oahu during 1941. The island provided good times for Scholtz: poker, tennis, and playing piano, including at the officers club the night before Dec. 7, when everything changed.
That morning, the Japanese struck Oahu and Pearl Harbor but targeted Wheeler first, wanting to knock out the planes there to maintain air superiority. Scholtz recalled being largely defenseless, describing the U.S. forces as “sitting ducks.” To ride out the first wave, he headed from his barracks to the officers quarters, where he “plastered myself up against the wall” and prayed.
Once clear, Scholtz headed for a sandbag-protected gun emplacement and used its radio to contact Fort Shafter, the Army’s headquarters on Hawaii, which told him of the orders to get fighter planes in the air.
A few did take off from Wheeler, contributing to the 11 among all U.S. forces believed to have gotten airborne to fight back and record 10 Japanese kills. Scholtz remembered seeing the Wheeler plane piloted by 2nd Lt. Gordon Sterling being shot down in a dogfight during the second wave.
Not all attack maps show the second wave hitting Wheeler, but several do. And Scholtz remembered the follow-up attack clearly because a Zero strafed his sandbag emplacement.
“In fact,” he said, “a bullet just went right by my ear. I carried it for a long time, but then I lost it.”
The attack — which ended with the second wave — left 2,403 Americans dead, including 33 at Wheeler. One of those 33 was Scholtz’s friend Don Plant.
Later, Scholtz would be deployed to the Pacific, hopping among a few smaller islands before setting up on Guadalcanal, the site of the U.S.’s first offensive campaign in the theater.
Before he had left Hawaii, he had bought a Gulbransen piano for $50 and was given permission to take it to war as a morale booster, becoming known among the troops for his playing. The Guadalcanal hill he played on was given the name “harmony hill.”
Scholtz left the military in 1945 as a staff sergeant and got a music degree from Lawrence University in Appleton, Wisconsin, through the G.I. Bill. There, he met his wife, Barbara, and the two had two children, six grandchildren and a great-grandchild. He worked in Catholic education in three states before retiring in 2002.
He was 94 at the time of this interview, done in 2016 at his Jacksonville, Florida, home. He passed away the following year.
“I’m very proud of the fact that I contributed something to it,” Scholtz said of his actions during Pearl Harbor. “It wasn’t much, but it was the best I could do.”
That morning, the Japanese struck Oahu and Pearl Harbor but targeted Wheeler first, wanting to knock out the planes there to maintain air superiority. Scholtz recalled being largely defenseless, describing the U.S. forces as “sitting ducks.” To ride out the first wave, he headed from his barracks to the officers quarters, where he “plastered myself up against the wall” and prayed.
Once clear, Scholtz headed for a sandbag-protected gun emplacement and used its radio to contact Fort Shafter, the Army’s headquarters on Hawaii, which told him of the orders to get fighter planes in the air.
A few did take off from Wheeler, contributing to the 11 among all U.S. forces believed to have gotten airborne to fight back and record 10 Japanese kills. Scholtz remembered seeing the Wheeler plane piloted by 2nd Lt. Gordon Sterling being shot down in a dogfight during the second wave.
Not all attack maps show the second wave hitting Wheeler, but several do. And Scholtz remembered the follow-up attack clearly because a Zero strafed his sandbag emplacement.
“In fact,” he said, “a bullet just went right by my ear. I carried it for a long time, but then I lost it.”
The attack — which ended with the second wave — left 2,403 Americans dead, including 33 at Wheeler. One of those 33 was Scholtz’s friend Don Plant.
Later, Scholtz would be deployed to the Pacific, hopping among a few smaller islands before setting up on Guadalcanal, the site of the U.S.’s first offensive campaign in the theater.
Before he had left Hawaii, he had bought a Gulbransen piano for $50 and was given permission to take it to war as a morale booster, becoming known among the troops for his playing. The Guadalcanal hill he played on was given the name “harmony hill.”
Scholtz left the military in 1945 as a staff sergeant and got a music degree from Lawrence University in Appleton, Wisconsin, through the G.I. Bill. There, he met his wife, Barbara, and the two had two children, six grandchildren and a great-grandchild. He worked in Catholic education in three states before retiring in 2002.
He was 94 at the time of this interview, done in 2016 at his Jacksonville, Florida, home. He passed away the following year.
“I’m very proud of the fact that I contributed something to it,” Scholtz said of his actions during Pearl Harbor. “It wasn’t much, but it was the best I could do.”
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