I want to begin the stories about the Women of World War II Hawaii by telling you about Gussie Ornellas because it’s her story that started this obsession. I have come to love Gussie. I imagine her as someone who everyone called “Auntie,” who kept a clean house, who was a tough parent, and a devout Catholic.
You can read Gussie’s oral history in the Center for Oral History’s collection. Told in her own words, you can hear the lilt of her pidgin when you read it. (I’ve posted segments of her oral history in the Appendix: Gussie Ornellas Oral History)
As a mother myself, I cannot imagine how strong Gussie was. On December 7, 1941, anti-aircraft shrapnel hit her house. Gussie's brother, two daughters, and a nephew were killed.
After a few weeks of grieving, and with the help of her next door neighbor, Mrs. Bush, Gussie did what she had to do. She took a deep breath, faced her responsibilities to her family, and functioned--for the rest of her life. I would still be sitting on the couch, unable to move.
Like so many other people that morning, Gussie didn’t think Oahu was under attack. Yes, there were planes overhead, and smoke billowing from Pearl Harbor, but that was routine. War games between the U.S. Army and Navy were common--although it was unusual for them to take place on a Sunday morning, and it was unusual that the smoke was black. During war games, the smoke was white.
In her oral history, Gussie talks about coming home from early morning Mass. As part of their Sunday routine, she and her husband Frank went to church, went home, got their children up and ready for a later Mass, and while their children were in church, Frank and Gussie did their weekly shopping
On the way home from church in the car, Gussie noticed smoke in the sky but "I thought it was the planes practicing.” Then she saw her cousin speeding down the street. “He was usually a slow driver, but he was going down fast.”
Gussie's husband continued driving up the hill towards home, but was stopped by an "American Legion man” who told them they couldn't continue “up [the hill] because there was a big hole in the middle of the road coming into my garage. So they said we can’t go. Then, one boy came, I says, ‘What happened?’ He says, ‘Whatever happened was at your place.’"
The Ornellas family lived on 2705 Kamanaiki Street in Kalihi. If you go to Google Maps, you can see where the house is. It's in Kalihi Valley about half-mile or so from the Likelike Highway. If you zoom out a bit, you can see where Kalihi is in relation to Honolulu and Pearl Harbor.
Gussie recalls, "My husband and I ran up. When we came [to the house] they had brought out my oldest girl [seventeen-year old Barbara]. They had laid her down. . . There was a nurse that used to live below [down the hill]. . .
"She[Barbara] was out on the porch. One of the [American] shrapnels hit her on the main artery and she was bleeding. By the time the ambulance came. . . it was too late.
"Then I asked for my boy and my other girl. They say, 'I think Frank is downstairs with uncle [Uncle is an honorific term in Hawaii, used for adult men even if they are not related.]They in the basement.'
Then I asked for my boys and my other girl [Gussie’s youngest daughter, Gertrude, known as Tiny.] Nobody knew where Tiny was. Then was their bedroom. When I went in there, I saw her flat on the floor. She had a gash, this--her wrist. She was dead.
"Then, my nephew downstairs [Frank Ohashi] one shrapnel went down there. He was just coming out of the bathroom. Hit him. My brother [Peter Souza Lopes] was lying in the driveway; he had been washing his car. was cleaning his car [in the driveway]and the shrapnels ripped his side all up. So, Fred [Gussie's cousin] took him with another friend of ours, and they put him in the car, and they rushed him [to the hospital] because the ambulance take long to come. You know, roads were blocked and everything. Then the ambulance came. Yeah, the ambulance was here. They were taking my oldest girl and my nephew."
When transcribing oral histories, sometimes the chronology of the story gets confused. Here, Gussie goes back to looking for Tiny.
"In the meantime, we didn't know where Tiny was. That's when I opened the door, and there she was. So, I told my friends, I says, 'Tell the ambulance to stop because there's Tiny. They have to pick Tiny up.' So then, they took the three of them. Then, they stopped us from going down. We were going to the hospital, but they said, 'No, you cannot go, and this and that and everything else. So we couldn't go to the hospital.
"After I don't know how many hours, they they told us [we could go.] My husband went to the hospital. So then, when he came home, he said. . . Well, Tiny, I knew she was dead because [the shrapnel] came right through her temples. I know she couldn't pull through. That, I'm sure she was dead, but the sister [Barbara] was still alive when they left. My nephew, too. So there was four [dead] in the family."
On December 10, 1941 a funeral was held at Our Lady of the Mount Roman Catholic Church for Barbara and "Tiny" Ornellas, and their uncle, Peter Souza.
Barbara June Ornellas was a senior at St. Theresa School. For several years she attended Sacred Hearts Academy. She was to graduate from St. Theresa's in June, 1942.
Again, I write that it is impossible for me to understand the depth of pain that Gussie Ornellas experienced. I've come to love her, and wish her comfort. Were it not for Gussie, none of this project would have begun. Dear Gussie, Thank you.
I've posted additional text of Gussie's oral history in this blog's Appendix. (Appendix: Gussie Ornellas)If you'd like more information about the Center for Oral History, the URL is: http://www.oralhistory.hawaii.edu/
In the Civilian Dead Appendix of this blog you will the find entries of their deaths in newspapers:
Gertrude Ornellas, age 17, 2705 Kamanaiki Street (also listed as age 15 and age 16)
Peter Souza Lopes, age 33, 2705 Kamaniki Street, employee Hawaiian Dredging, member, Eagles Lodge.
PHOTO: Gussie Ornellas
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