Paul Kengor: Pearl Harbor and the vanishing WWII vet

I think often of my late friend Charles Wiley. My colleague David Ayers and I plotted to bring Charlie to Grove City College every spring semester for years. Students were enthralled by this extraordinarily colorful old guy holding forth with stories from his incredible life, beginning as a childhood actor in the 1930s through his internationally known antics fighting the Cold War. His life was so fascinating that when Charlie died at age 95 in March 2022, I wrote a tribute to him for The American Spectator called, “The Most Interesting Man in the World.”

The title suited the man.

Among Charlie’s best stories related to Pearl Harbor.

On Dec. 7, 1941, Charlie was attending a football game at New York’s Polo Grounds. At halftime, the announcer curiously read off a list of high-ranking military and political officials who were in attendance and ordered them to “Call your office immediately!” No reason was given.

“It was not until seconds after the last play that we were told that Pearl Harbor was being bombed by Japanese planes!” recalled Charlie. “Our country was at war!”

Before dawn the next morning, Charlie headed to the Marine recruiting office in lower Manhattan. There was already a two-block line.

Notably, Charlie was only 15 years old. But he was ready to fight for his country. When he finally got to the recruiting sergeant, he was asked his birth date, for which Charlie had a well-rehearsed fabrication. The incredulous sergeant asked for a birth certificate. No luck. Charlie would have to wait until he turned 18, which wasn’t until 1945 (he ultimately found himself at Okinawa).

When Charlie told this story, his point was less about himself than his countrymen. He wasn’t alone in this desire to defend Uncle Sam, as that long line in Manhattan attested. Said Charlie: “As news of the Japanese attack spread, the most vehement of the anti-war activists immediately lined up behind our country.”

I thought of Charlie’s Pearl Harbor story when recently learning that the last survivor of the USS Arizona passed away. His name was Lou Conter, and he died at age 102. He was one of only 335 Arizona crewmen who survived the “day of infamy.”

“Guys were coming out of the fire,” remembered Conter, “and we were just grabbing them and laying them down. They were real bad. You would pick them up by the bodies, and the skin would come off in your hands.” The 20-year-old Wisconsin native stayed alive through the long remainder of the war. We finally lost him on April 1, 2024.

It’s sad that these men are gone, as is the country they served. Charlie used to lament to me: “It’s all gone, Paul. Everything. The sights, the smells, the feel. It’s just such a completely different world. You can’t imagine.”

We talked about how attitudes are different, including the sense of service and allegiance. We wondered whether American boys would today line up blocks-long in Manhattan or anywhere to fight overseas if the nation endured another Pearl Harbor.

I have my doubts. There might be a collective anger and unity for a while, like after 9/11, but I have trouble imagining it holding through four traumatic years as hundreds of thousands of boys died overseas.

We can debate that. But we can’t debate the fact that these World War II vets are disappearing quickly. Guys like Charlie Wiley and Lou Conter are a vanishing breed. This Memorial Day weekend, they’re worth memorializing.