Some of my fondiest memories are of my Grandma Lula (Croft) Freeman. She was without a doubt, the sweetest person I ever knew. I always enjoyed my visits to see Granma Lula. Born March 16,1891 to parents George Washington and Emma (Hilton) Croft. They always lived in Cherokee County, GA. Lula was the middle child of three children and the only girl. Her mother died shortly after the birth of the last child in 1894. George Washington married again to Lina Jane (New)on October 24, 1894, and grandma and her brothers were raised with their half brothers and sisters. from that marriage. Grandma Lula married Jess Oscar Freeman January 2, 1910. They had nine children, including a set of twins. Grandpa Jess died in December 1934. I never knew him. But, my grandma was still young and beautitful and never ever dreamed of remarriage. She always found time for her grandchildren along with her own children. I could not wait for any visit to my grandmother's house. Especially the Summer visits where I could stay longer being out of school. Grandma was a God fearing Christian woman. We did fun things together, cooking, listening to the radio, which she kept in the kitchen on top of the ice box, she spent most of her time in the kitchen cooking for her family and friends. She would always listen to her favorite soap opera and the news. I remember us huddling around the radio listening and hoping for a good report from the little girl (Kathy) that fell into the well in 1949? A sad ending to that story made us both cry. She had a fenced back yard and a dog named Fluff and I loved going outside to play with Fluff while grandma Lula sat on the back steps and watched us play. I will always love and remember my grandma Lula, she was certainly the Apple of my eye. She passed away in October of 1980 surrounded by family and friends. She is buried beside the love of her life, my grandpa Jess Freeman in Bascomb Church Cemetery, in Woodstock, (Cherokee County) GA. What an honor to remember her with a short story this close to Mother's Day.

On November 24, 1941, I was aboard the USS McFarland AVD-14, an old 4-stack destroyer. It had been converted to a seaplane tender, hauling aviation gasoline to naval airfields on remote islands. We were under Commander Patrol Wing 2 headquartered at Pearl. I had the mid-watch (12-4 a.m.) alone in the radio shack. I was suddenly hit with severe pains. The pains grew worse and I found I couldn't even stand up. I crawled on my hands and knees to the bridge (about 40 feet away) and called for help. I was taken to sick bay and the ships captain immediately set sail for the island of Palmyra which we had left about 8 hours earlier. We had no ships doctor. I was transferred to the infirmary on Palmyra and diagnosed as having an acute attack of appendicitis. No doctor was on Palmyra either so my lower extremities were packed in ice and I was flown to the Naval Hospital in Pearl. My appendix was removed on 11/25/41. My recovery complete, I was at the hospital as an "up" patient. The McFarland was at sea, I was waiting for her return. On the morning of 12/7/41, I was on the second floor veranda reading the Sunday paper. Suddenly a large group of planes flew over. The fellow next to me said "they must be having practice war maneuvers". I yelled "those are Japanese planes - see the rising sun insignia under their wings?" About that time, the torpedo bombers started diving and dropping torpedoes. The vantage point from the second floor of the hospital was such that you could view the entire harbor and the Naval Air Station directly across from the hospital. The old hospital stood on what was called "Hospital Point" at the entrance to Pearl. I saw just about every ship get hit either with torpedoes or bombs. It was like sitting in front of a TV screen with my eyes as cameras taking in everything taking place. It wasn't long before wounded men were brought into the hospital. All "up" patients were immediately brought into service to help the doctors, nurses and corpsmen. The hospital staff was overwhelmed by the number of injured being brought in. I was assigned to applying a burn salve on burn patients and applying loose bandages. Many were burned or injured so badly they were dying before they could be helped. After the nightmare of the first several days attending to the wounded and dying, I was assigned to the burial detail at Ieia Landing. There we had to try and identify bits and pieces of bodies. Arms, legs, torsos detached from their bodies were fingerprinted. Stenciled names on clothing, dog tags, anything that could be used to identify remains were used. The remains were placed in plain pine boxes, taken to the cemetery and given military burial. Many times while lifting the caskets to our shoulders, the putred body fluids would spill onto our own bodies. Quite an experience for an 18 year old. During the attack, a Japanese plane was shot down and crashed into the medical experimental wing at the U.S. Naval Hospital. Certainly it was one of the very first planes shot down by U.S. Forces in World War 2. Several of us sailors ran to the crash site to extinguish the flames. I retrieved several pieces of metal and part of the pilots burned parachute to keep as souvenirs which I have passed on to my son as a memoir of Pearl Harbor. George W. Croft CTCM U.S.N. Ret.