Pearl Harbor survivor Paul Smith of Collier County dies at 95

After surviving the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, braving the grueling heat and humidity of the southwestern Pacific and prevailing despite close calls and almost daily Japanese air raids in and around Guadalcanal, many would have longed for a quiet, stationary life.

But when Marine Cpl. Paul Smith returned to the United States after World War II wound down, he quickly realized he was not cut out for a simple civilian career.

Instead, after less than a year of running an ice cream parlor with his wife, Viola, and her brother, Mack, in San Francisco, Smith felt a familiar tug.

“My dad told Mack, ‘You know, this is not for me. I thought I would like it, but the service is really where I want to be,’ ” said Smith’s daughter, Sandra Simmons. “He was a dedicated patriot and he felt like the purpose of the military – keeping our country safe – was probably more important than anything, any other career that he could possibly do.”

And so Smith re-enlisted and for 22 more years served as a medical supply officer, first in the Army Air Force and then the Air Force. He served in Europe and Northern Africa, with stops in England, Morocco and nearly everywhere in between.

Smith, a Collier County resident for more than three decades, died early Wednesday at NCH Baker Hospital Downtown. He was 95.

Smith was born June 18, 1921, in Bluefield, West Virginia, a small coal-mining town near the Virginia line. After moving to Salem, Virginia, and ultimately to Cincinnati, Smith — like many other young men at the time — struggled to find a job.

And so, at 17, Smith decided to enlist in the Marine Corps. His mother had to sign for him to do so.

“He wanted to work and do something productive,” said Simmons, 64. “He felt like, you know, he could do well in the military. That appealed to him.”

After about 10 weeks of boot camp at Parris Island, South Carolina, Smith eventually was stationed at Pearl Harbor.

Then, one December morning in 1941, the young Marine stared at the sky in disbelief as wave after wave of Japanese planes roared toward the U.S. battleships anchored at the Hawaiian naval base.

“We never dreamed such a thing would happen,” Smith told the Daily News in October 2016. “You just couldn’t believe what was happening, you know. It just scared the hell out of you.”

Enraged, he threw his breakfast – half a grapefruit – and a spoon at the attacking planes, some of which were flying so low he could see the pilots’ faces, and ran to the Marine barracks to grab his rifle.

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Not long after the surprise attack, Smith and his fellow Marines shipped out to Tulagi, a small island near Guadalcanal, to fight the Japanese forces.

Smith, manning one of the large searchlights, was tasked with spotting enemy planes when they attacked at night. As one of the lone bright spots along the otherwise dark islands, Smith often became a prime target.

Once, a bomb hit close enough to Smith’s searchlight to fling the Marine 40 to 50 feet through the air, leaving him with a permanent ringing in his ears.

Following his brief hiatus from military life after his return home, Smith and his family were stationed all over the European theater as he worked as a medical supply officer, Simmons said.

It exposed her and her older brother, Gary, to new cultures, languages and religions.

“We grew up with no prejudices,” she said. “With an understanding that all over the world there are people just like us, but they might believe different things or do different things or eat different things. And that was OK, you know, you should learn about that and understand the person they are.”

At home, Smith, the father, was not unlike Smith, the soldier.

“He was very strict,” Simmons said. “We often described it as, you know, our household being run like a little military camp. We said, ‘Yes sir, no sir. Yes ma’am, no ma’am.’”

But there was a gentler side, too.

Smith loved flowers and adored his wife. Every morning, while Viola was still asleep, he would pick a flower, set the breakfast table and place the flower by her plate.

“That to me represented their love for each other and how much he cherished her,” Simmons said. “And how well he took care of her and our family. They were married 71 years, and you don’t find many couples around today who can say that.”

Much of his spare time, Smith spent in his woodworking shop making sets of wood dominos to play with, building furniture and fixing things.

“Any time I smell lumber I think of my dad,” Simmons said. “He used his garage, and he had workbenches and tools everywhere, and there was always sawdust flying.”

Smith is survived by his wife, Viola “Ches” Smith; his son, Gary Smith, and his wife, Yolanda Smith, of Clinton, Maryland; a great-grandson, Gavin Smith, of Maryland; his daughter, Sandra, and her husband, Brian Dawson, of Naples; and his sister, Betty Ball, of Cincinnati.

Smith’s family has asked that in lieu of flowers, charitable contributions in his memory be sent to the Marine Corps League of Naples.

“He loved his family. He loved God. And he loved his country,” Simmons said. “He was a true patriot.”