Into San Francisco Bay, through the mists of a grey Christmas morning, steamed a somber little convoy. Aboard were women and children bombed out of their homes in Honolulu, boys and men of the Navy wounded and burned in Pearl Harbor before they ever had a chance to fight back.
From hillsides bordering the harbor, San Franciscans saw the convoy slide under Golden Gate Bridge, the ships' black and grey daubed sides barely distinguishable from fog and water. Word spread quickly. Down to the docks, as close as armed guards would let them approach, rushed hundreds of eager, worried men and...
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