An Unlikely Hero

Lauren Brunner and five other sailors were in the USS Arizona director (circled) when the bomb hit. Joe George saw them from the nearby USS Vestal and threw them a line.

Note: This is the first of two stories about December 7th, 1941 and the attack on Pearl Harbor.

The irony of fate hung heavy over Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Joe George, a 26 year old boatswain's mate aboard the USS Vestal, had spent the previous night in the brig – another scrap with Marines at a bar in downtown Honolulu that threatened to end his naval career. The next day's scheduled court-martial loomed over him but destiny had other plans for the troublesome sailor, plans that would transform a man facing punishment into an unlikely hero.

Dawn broke over the harbor with deceptive serenity. George, despite his predicament, was release from the brig to stand his watch aboard the Vestal, which was moored alongside the massive USS Arizona. His knuckles, still raw from the previous night's altercation, gripped the ship's rail as the first Japanese planes appeared like dark specks against the pearl-gray sky.

What followed was chaos incarnate. The Arizona took a direct hit, erupting in a massive fireball that seemed to tear the sky apart. Through the inferno's roar, George heard something that pierced even the din of battle – human voices, desperate and raw, calling for help. Six men were trapped in the Arizona's anti-aircraft gun directors platform, surrounded by flames and certain death.

Joe George early in his Navy career.

He grabbed a weighted line and, with the precision of a seasoned seaman, threw it across the gap. "Come on!" he bellowed through the smoke, his voice carrying the same fierce energy that had gotten him into so many fights. When ordered by the ship's Captain to cut the lines between the Vestal and the burning Arizona, George – a man who'd made a career of bucking authority – refused until the men were saved.

One by one, the men traversed the rope over the burning waters below. Their hands blistered, their bodies exhausted, but George's steady voice urged them on. Lauren Bruner and Donald Stratton would later recall the excruciating journey – their skin searing and lungs burning, but their will to live pushing them forward.

In that moment of crisis, the man who'd been deemed a troublemaker just hours before became something else entirely – a savior. The court-martial scheduled for the next day never happened; the attack on Pearl Harbor had changed everything, including Joe George's fate. He had chosen to defy orders one final time, not for the thrill of rebellion, but for the highest purpose: saving his fellow sailors.

George rarely spoke of his actions that day, carrying the memory like a quiet burden until his death in 1996. It would take decades and the persistent advocacy of those he saved, particularly Donald Stratton, before the Navy would formally recognize his courage with a posthumous Bronze Star Medal in 2017. Perhaps the greatest irony was that his most noble act had been one of disobedience – proof that sometimes the truest form of service comes not from following orders, but from following one's conscience.