HONOLULU (AP) - The scattered patches of brown-black puffs against the sparkling blue morning sky should have been an indication that something was wrong that Sunday morning.

Louis Nokini, center, of Hyde Park, and a veteran of World War II was on hand for the Annual Pearl Harbor Day Services at Fanuel Hall on Sunday. (Thomas James Hurst Photo) WWII hopes Dec. 7 is day that will live in memory A schoolboy's world altered by Pearl Harbor attack New Hampshire residents remember Pearl Harbor on anniversary Photo Gallery

But, as a 6-year-old, I was more eager to get in a full day of "pee-wee'' - a game using different lengths of an old broomstick - not knowing the enormity of events taking place 8 miles away.

The laughter and cajoling, however, came to an abrupt end when all the kids' parents came out and literally marched us home.

That night, I remember my father telling the family not to turn on any house lights. The winter season was here so darkness fell early. It was eerie; the entire neighborhood was pitch black.

As we went to bed, my father placed the radio under a table draped with a sheet so there would be no visible light outside.

That's when it struck me that something was seriously wrong.

That's the most vivid memory I have of Dec. 7, 1941 - "a date which will live in infamy,'' as President Franklin D. Roosevelt would say.

That morning, at Pearl Harbor and other military facilities on Oahu, the Japanese launched a surprise attack that plunged the United States into World War II.

War was not in my vocabulary then.

I learned quickly, however, that it disrupted what we normally took for granted.

The next day being Monday, we were told there would be no school for students at Lunalilo Elementary. There was good reason: a shell had landed on the main two-story building and burned down the second level.

We stayed home for two weeks.

Everyone was concerned about additional attacks. On occasion, an air-raid siren went off, sending us scurrying to a shelter.

It was rather ironic. On the way to school prior to the attack, my pals and I would admire a store display depicting two opposing armies maneuvering against each other. The flag of the army with the advantage was that of Japan.

We thought it would be a neat gift to get for Christmas.

Then, like my school, the store and the entire block were demolished by a shell, killing two people. James Jones included the incident in his novel "From Here to Eternity.''

Those of Japanese ancestry living on the U.S. mainland were subjected to racial hatred and suspicion, then uprooted and carted off to what was gently referred to as "internment camps'' with little advance warning.

But those in Hawaii fared better.

Living in the islands, with their melting pot of ethnic groups, eased the fears of retaliation for my parents, who were second-generation Japanese-American, or Nisei.

In no time, we kids of Japanese ancestry were out playing with our Chinese and Portuguese neighbors and parking ourselves in their homes.

But neither my 7-year-old sister, Edith, nor I strayed too many doors away, always leaving word with my mother where we would be.

Hawaii, then a territory of the United States, had the largest Japanese population outside of Japan, and many of them were Issei, first-generation Japanese.

While the possibility of Japanese sympathizers probably concerned the governing military, Hawaii's isolation created what could be considered a "captive audience.''

But some considered "too friendly'' to Japan's cause were sent to a camp not far from Pearl Harbor.

Still, the war years were different for those isolated in the middle of the Pacific.

Martial law was in effect with a strictly enforced 8 p.m. curfew.

There was rationing of food, especially fresh meat - probably the reason Hawaii remains the biggest consumer of Spam - and gasoline.

Lumber was in such short supply that the skeletal frame of a nearby two-story building across from nearby Moiliili Field stayed that way until after the war ended in 1945. "The unfinished house,'' as we referred to it, made for a neat hangout.

Scripts were required for certain goods.

All windows had to be painted over so no light would show outside.

Paper money had "Hawaii'' stamped on one side. It wasn't until about 25 years ago that they were finally taken out of circulation.

The war years also meant backyard bomb shelters. Every family had one - nothing fancy, but well-stocked with water and canned goods. We'd have to clean out the underground shelter from time to time and it was an unpleasant task, what with spiders, lizards and other yucky insects.

Everyone was required to carry gas masks at all times. To test their effectiveness, there would be random drills where everyone would wear their masks and race through a tear gas-filled room.

At school, we had surprise air raid drills where we marched out in orderly fashion and positioned ourselves in either slit trenches or shelters. As kids, we liked to sneak up on sides of the shelters, causing the gravel to slide off and expose the wooden structure. If we got caught, it was off to the principal's office.

To wile away idle time, we made a hobby of identifying planes zipping through the skies. Mostly P-40s and, once in a while, the P-47 Thunderbolt or nifty double-fuselaged P-38 Lightning. Rarely did we see bombers, the B-17 Flying Fortress or the B-25 Mitchell Bomber.

With thousands of military stationed in the islands, we'd snap off a salute or give them the "V for Victory'' sign. More often than not, they'd wave back.