Freeman Johnson, 106, of Centerville, Massachusetts, has become the oldest living survivor of the December 1941 Pearl Harbor attack that killed more than 2,400 Americans and propelled the United States into World War II. Johnson, who turned 106 in March, was stationed aboard the USS St. Louis, a light cruiser, during the surprise Japanese bombing, but his position below deck kept him from witnessing the assault.

With only 11 Pearl Harbor survivors remaining — out of an estimated 87,000 troops who were stationed on Oahu on Dec. 7, 1941 — Johnson stands as one of the last living links to an event whose centennial commemoration approaches in less than two decades. The U.S. observes Memorial Day on Monday, honoring fallen service members.

Johnson was a 19-year-old sailor with the rating of fireman when Japanese aircraft swarmed the harbor. He was far below deck helping repair one of the ship’s boilers when the attack began, and by the time he climbed topside, the St. Louis had already evaded midget submarines and set out to sea.

“While all the rigamarole was going on topside, I was inside a steam drum,” Johnson said. “Couldn’t see anything, absolutely nothing.”

The St. Louis fired on attacking Japanese planes, and Johnson’s shipmates shot down a torpedo plane — events he learned about only after the fact.

“We were way out to sea, way out,” he said. “You couldn’t see any land at all. All you saw was ocean. I was just a sailor, just a swabbie, I was not an officer. They don’t tell you anything if you don’t need to know. And I didn’t need know it. So they tell you nothing.”

A dwindling group of eyewitnesses

Johnson became the oldest Pearl Harbor survivor after Navy veteran Ira “Ike” Schab died in December at age 105. With the death of Clarence Lane in February at age 100, only 11 survivors of the Dec. 7, 1941, attack remain.

Every year, the Pearl Harbor military base hosts a remembrance ceremony at its waterfront for survivors. About 2,000 survivors attended the 50th anniversary event in 1991. A few dozen attended in recent decades. In 2024, only two survivors made the pilgrimage to Hawaii. None attended last year.

From unwilling recruit to reluctant celebrity

For most of his life, Johnson avoided the spotlight and spoke little about his role in one of the most significant events in American history. He enlisted at 19 while unemployed and living at home in Waltham, Massachusetts — joining the Navy specifically because he feared being drafted into the Army.

“As a kid, I walked,” Johnson said. “If I wanted to go somewhere, I walked or took my bicycle. But I didn’t want to walk from France to Germany.”

He recalled imagining the physical demands of infantry service.

“It’s a long way carrying a knapsack with you,” Johnson said. “Water for a day, food for a day, a 9-pound Springfield rifle all on your back and walking through the mud. No thanks. That’s why I joined the Navy.”

When Johnson did visit schools in recent years, children consistently asked whether he was scared during the Pearl Harbor attack. He said fear was not the dominant emotion.

“You’re not scared. You’re too busy to be scared,” he said, his voice rising. “Besides, you don’t know what you’re scared of. You can’t see anything. What are you afraid of?”

Johnson’s profile changed after his daughter, Diane Johnson, heard a local television report suggesting that the last Pearl Harbor survivor in the state of Massachusetts had died. She called to correct the record, and the effort raised his public visibility. Johnson began receiving letters from around the world, made regular appearances leading the Cape Cod St. Patrick’s Parade, and arrived at his 106th birthday party in a limousine to television cameras.

His wife, Ruth, had previously thought the Pearl Harbor survival was special enough to warrant official recognition. She called the Navy to inquire, and a woman on the other end of the line laughed at her, Johnson said.

Desmond Keogh, chairman of the Cape Cod St. Patrick’s Parade, has accompanied Johnson during the event.

“I wish more people were like him today,” Keogh said. “He just gets on and doesn’t complain about anything. It’s what this country was all about. They were just a different generation. They did what was best for their country.”

Johnson, now hard of hearing, uses a walker and suffers from congestive heart failure, though he recalls his wartime experience in detail. His Centerville living room contains mementos and photos from his Navy service — images of the St. Louis, pictures of him as a young sailor, a collection of Navy challenge coins, ribbons from the places he visited, and his military identification tags.

Witnessing the end of the war

Johnson’s naval career extended beyond Pearl Harbor. He later served aboard the USS Iowa and helped commission the battleship. In November 1943, the Iowa was prepared to transport President Franklin D. Roosevelt to the Tehran Conference with British Prime Minister Winston Churchill and Soviet leader Josef Stalin.

The ship was fitted with two elevators and a bathtub, and much of its ammunition and oil were removed to lighten the vessel as it traveled down the Potomac River to pick up Roosevelt. The cargo was reloaded before the ship returned to sea.

“It was a big meeting,” Johnson said. “I don’t know what they talked about, but I didn’t need to know. We picked him back up, brought him home.”

On Sept. 2, 1945, Johnson watched the Japanese surrender ceremony from the Iowa’s mast. The ceremony took place about a mile away aboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay.

“I could see the boats coming up with the Marines escorting the Japanese onto ship and sitting around a table,” Johnson said. “It was all over. That was the end of the war. A bunch of us got together — the war is over. Let’s go home."

"Pearl Harbor just happened”

Diane Johnson lives with her father and accompanies him on trips each Dec. 7, often attending Pearl Harbor remembrance events, including ceremonies marking the 65th and 80th anniversaries in Hawaii. She encourages her father to share his story, telling him he has a responsibility to educate children who know little about the attack.

“It’s kind of overwhelming when you think of it,” Diane Johnson said. “Well, the 106 is what gets me. When I think about his history, he’s at the beginning, he’s at middle, he is at the end when he witnessed the surrender. It’s something.”

Despite the attention he has received, Johnson does not regard Pearl Harbor as the defining moment of his life. That distinction belongs to his marriage to his late wife and the three daughters they raised. He worked for years in a machinist shop, then at a convenience store, and finally delivered meals to seniors — retiring from his last job at age 90.

“Pearl Harbor just happened,” Johnson said. “I can’t put it any other way.”