The Last Face They'll Ever See

Faith Hisako Miyabara, six months into her training, tending to burn victims brought from Pearl Harbor — offering morphine, comfort, and the last human presence many would ever know. A glimpse into her journey awaits below.

“There was a captain, a doctor. He gave the instructions. My first task was to prepare the morphine. We were where the worst of them were brought in—the ones with the deepest burns. The captain looked at me and said, ‘The ones here are all going to die anyway. We only need to make them comfortable. Just prepare the morphine.”

The chaos meant the exact numbers were never recorded, but hundreds of young men passed through those barracks. For a girl who had only just begun her training, the sight was a staggering baptism.

“I lost count,” she shared quietly. “They just kept coming. And oh, they were in such pain. It wasn’t just the explosions; it was the fuel burning on top of the water in the harbor. They’d come in with bits of t-shirts or shorts left on—the rest was just... gone. Sometimes I could barely look at them. But I knew they were going to die, so I forced myself to look.”

Her voice took on a quality of quiet benediction.

“They were so far from home. Mostly haoles from the mainland. Some were unconscious, others begged to see their parents. Sometimes a man would seem gone, but I’d place my hand on his head and gently say, “Hello, soldier.’ And just like that, he’d pop his eyes open for a second before closing them again. That’s why I had to look. I thought, maybe I was the last face they’ll ever see. Maybe mine is the last voice they’ll hear.”