When he got his board off the roof of the Chevy, the noise woke Charlie Kaapu. The big half-Hawaiian extracted himself from the car. As Oscar had, he stretched and yawned. “What time is it, anyway?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Oscar didn’t wear a watch. But a glance at the sun gave him a fair idea. “About half past seven, I guess.”

Charlie looked out to sea. He made the same sort of mutters as Oscar had. Then he went off to take a leak by the same palm tree. When he came back, he got down his surfboard, too. “We’re here. We might as well give it a go,” he said resignedly.

“Yeah.” Oscar nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.” He crossed the road and headed down the beach toward the water. Charlie Kaapu followed.

Oscar had a couple of good rides in. The second time, Charlie went off his board. He had a scowl on his face when he recaptured it. He stood there at the edge of the sea, dripping and fuming. Then he frowned, looking north. “What’s that noise?”

After a moment, Oscar heard it too: a distant drone that put him in mind of mosquitoes. He also looked north. He pointed. “There they are. That’s a hell of a lot of airplanes. The Army or the Navy must be up to something.”

The airplanes flew in several groups. Some went south through the central valley. Others took a more southwesterly course. They were plenty high enough to make it over the Waianae Range. Oscar briefly wondered why they were all coming off the ocean. Then he shrugged again. What the military did wasn’t his worry. He and Charlie went back to their surf-riding.

LIEUTENANT SABURO SHINDO piloted his Zero back toward the Akagi. Exultation filled the commander of the second wave’s fighters. The first two attacks had heavily damaged the ships at Pearl Harbor and punished the airfields on Oahu. Now, Shindo thought, now we finish the job.