Whispers of a New Dawn

by Murray Pura

  “Sir.” The men saluted as they stopped in front of him.

  “Gentlemen.” Skipp returned the salute. “You have the honor of giving America its first victories in this war. Antiaircraft on the ships brought down some enemy aircraft and a soldier at Schofield brought down a plane with his Browning automatic, if you can believe that. But you have given us our first victories in the air. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Skipp looked at Thunderbird’s unshaven face. “I was up when you were tangling with that Zero over our airfield.”

  “Yes, sir. I saw you, sir.”

  Skipp grinned. “I never saw such combat flying in my life. The Zero is faster and far better at dogfighting than the P-36. But you turned that pilot inside out before you brought him down. Someone taught you stunt flying pretty darn well, Lieutenant.”

  Raven’s eyes went flat. “Yes, sir.” He put on his aviator glasses. “We were hoping to see Wiz and the others up there with us. Where’d they go?”

  Skipp’s smile left his face. “Wizard got up in a P-36. It was all he could get his hands on. He flew it well but three Zeros jumped him. He crashed in the jungle north of here. We’ve found the wreckage and brought back the body.”

  Skipp could see the arms and shoulders of all four pilots tighten.

  “Where…” Lockjaw stopped and started again. “And Juggler and Shooter?”

  “They ran for some undamaged P-40s not long after you left. Juggler had been brushing his teeth and left his toothbrush on the runway. The enemy came in again. Juggler and Shooter were strafed as they tried to climb into their craft. They’re both dead.”

  The pilots stared at Skipp as if they thought he was making things up.

  Lockjaw spoke again, very quietly. “Where are they?”

  “In the hangar behind me. On the table under a tarp.”

  The four men walked slowly into the dark of the hangar. The table was off in a corner. They stood beside it but did nothing until Raven finally reached out a hand and drew the canvas away from their faces.

  “Wizard,” Batman said.

  The faces and heads seemed all wrong. Color was gone. Shooter’s eyes were partly open. Raven reached out again and closed them gently with his fingers.

  Lord. I don’t know what to say to you. I don’t know what to pray.

  After a few minutes Raven was the only one still standing at the table in the hangar. The others had walked back outside. He covered his friends’ faces again. No thoughts came to him except that he had lost Becky and now these three men. The lines from the hymn Jude Whetstone loved worked through his mind.

  Save all who dare the eagle’s flight,

  And keep them by thy watchful care

  From every peril in the air.

  He wandered away from the table and came to an area full of engine parts. He put his hands in his pockets and stared at them. Someone stepped into the entrance to the hangar. But right now he didn’t care.

  “What is it?” he finally asked.

  There was no response. He looked up, annoyed, and squinted at the rectangle of light. A slender dark figure was there and wasn’t there. He shielded his eyes.

  Becky.

  He didn’t move. She came inside in her flight jacket and jeans and white tee. Her face was spattered with grease and oil and long black streaks from tears. She stood in front of him.

  “Dead.” He spoke the word. “I know you’re dead.”

  Her face was white as bone. “I guess you’re right. Whatever I was before is gone. I don’t know what God will make of me now.”

  She put her hand to his cheek.

  “I feel a million things,” he said.

  His kiss was sudden and full. She gripped his back as if she were clinging to something that could keep her above water and give her air.

  He pulled back from her for a moment. “God knows I’d lost you. In my head I’d lost you.”

  “I’m here. It’s okay. I’m here.”

  “I saw your plane…”

  “Marry me, Thunderbird. Just take me and marry me and carry me to your room and be my husband.”

  “Beck—”

  “I mean it.”

  “Not today, we can’t marry today.”

  “Why not?” She gripped his face in her hands. “It’s a day full of death and hate. Why should that be the final word? Why can’t we put life into it? And love?”

  He stared at her. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious. Kalino is dead. And Manuku.”

  “What? Did you tell Lockjaw?”

  “I told him. It’s not just Kalino and Manuku. Flapjack is dead. Shooter. Juggler. Wizard. My dad was told the Arizona went down with practically everybody on board.”

  “David—”

  “Yes, David too. So much death. So much pain. Why shouldn’t we fight back by loving each other? Why shouldn’t we give our family and friends something when all around them is hell? Why not?”

  Raven shook his head. “But how could that work?” He looked in her eyes, then hugged her to himself. “Well, okay, then. Marry me, crazy girl.”

  She clutched him. “Today. I want to look back on December seventh and remember it as the day we became one. I want it to be a day of happiness. I want to love the ones we lost by becoming man and wife and honoring each of them with all the life we can muster.”

  “We can’t just walk into a church—”

  “Why can’t we? Isn’t the chaplain around here somewhere? Helping the wounded? Didn’t you talk to him about me months ago? Let’s find him.”

  “I don’t know where he is, Beck—it’s nuts out there.”

  Grabbing his hand she pulled him through a door at the back of the hangar. Two ground crew were running past.

  “Soldier!” she barked. “Where’s the army chaplain?”

  They both came to a stop.

  “I’m not sure, ma’am,” one of them replied.

  “Do you know where they’ve collected the wounded?”

  He pointed. “Way back behind the hangars. In case the Japs hit us again. They’re setting up a tent. You can see it. That’s one place anyway.”

  “Thanks.” She still had Raven’s hand and she began to drag him. “What’s wrong with my face?”

  “Nothing.”

  “They both stared as if I had two heads.”

  “I guess it’s because we’ve smeared the grease and oil all over ourselves. Your whole face is covered.”

  “But you’ll still marry me, right?”

  “Sure, I’ll marry you. Love is blind.”

  “Come on. Quick. They’ll be sending people after you to fly the next sortie.”

  The tent was full of wounded, many with burns, and the groans of pain immediately took the good feeling out of Becky’s spirit. Her face went rigid as she scanned the tent, but she didn’t let go of Raven’s hand.

  “What does he look like?” she asked.

  “He’s not here.”

  “Where would he go?”

  “Maybe he’s with Skipp for some reason.”

  “No, not likely. Skipp was going up again in an hour. They’re heading out to look for troopships and the Japanese task force.” She wiped oil off his eyebrows and rubbed it between her fingers. “Which means you.”

  “The wedding can wait.”

  “No, it can’t wait.”

  A tall man holding a Bible bent as he entered the tent.

  Raven came to attention. “Reverend Captain.”

  The chaplain returned the salute. “Captain will do.” He hesitated. “You’re Thunderbird, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then maybe you can help me since you’re here. I want to pray with the wounded men and encourage them.” He nodded his head at Becky. “Miss Whetstone, isn’t it? I know your parents.” He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t seem too well off yourself. Perhaps you’d better see a nurse or
doctor.”

  “Captain. Marry us.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “As soon as you’ve seen to the wounded. Or right now.”

  The chaplain took their arms and pulled them out of the tent with him.

  “What on earth are you jabbering about, Miss Whetstone?” he demanded. “You know what kind of day this is?”

  “Yes, sir, that’s why I want to do it. This day shouldn’t be all about death and destruction. There should be love and hope in it. I want to tell Hawaii and America I married the man I love the day our enemy tried to defeat us.”

  “Every day has its share of love and hope, Miss Whetstone.”

  “Yes, sir. But some days need a lot more. Some need all they can get.”

  The chaplain scowled at Raven. “Are you serious, Lieutenant?”

  “Well, I—”

  “You want to marry her today? Just like that? With Pearl Harbor and Wheeler burning?”

  “Angel’s wings.” Becky smiled through the oil and grease on her face. “Angel’s wings beating where you least expect it.”

  “Miss Whetstone—”

  “I know it’s crazy, sir.” Raven spoke up. “But it’s a crazy day. Some of our best friends are dead. There could be Japanese troops all over Oahu by sunset. This whole island may be overrun. So maybe Becky just wants one moment of beauty in a day that doesn’t have many of them.”

  The chaplain looked from one to the other. “As God is my witness you both mean it.” He poked his head into the tent. “Corporal. I need you to run an errand for me.”

  A tall man with a boy’s face covered in freckles stepped outside. “Yes, sir.”

  The chaplain held a piece of paper to his Bible and was scribbling with a pen. “Go to the runway. Find Colonel Skipp. Do you know him by sight?”

  “No, sir, I’m afraid I don’t.”

  “Ask.” He folded the paper twice and handed it to the corporal. “As soon as you’ve delivered it you can report back here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A cluster of P-40s suddenly screamed overhead. The chaplain and the corporal ducked. Becky smiled once the two men straightened.

  “No red suns,” she said.

  The chaplain didn’t smile back. “I hope you’ll both help me. After that we can talk about your wedding.”

  “Of course we’ll help.”

  “Prayer. Some food. Kindness. All this helps as much as the morphine.” He put a hand on Becky’s shoulder. “They will be glad to see you. But there are about fifty casualties. We can cover more ground if we all take a different patient. Are you comfortable praying with the soldiers on your own?”

  “Yes, sir. I can do that.”

  The first man Becky came to had a bandage over his eyes. Blood was seeping through gauze on his chest. Instinctively she took his hand. He almost pulled it away.

  “Who’s that?” he demanded.

  “Becky Whetstone. I’m working with the chaplain. Is that okay?”

  The man relaxed. “Yeah. Sure.”

  “Where are you from, soldier? What’s your name?”

  “Max. From Michigan. Detroit. I’m a mechanic. Work on the trucks and jeeps here.”

  “No airplanes?”

  “Haven’t got my ticket yet. But I’m learning.”

  “That’s good. Because my boyfriend flies. He stakes his life on what you guys do.”

  The man lifted his head off the pillow. “What’s his call sign?”

  “Thunderbird.”

  “The Bird? Sure, I know him. He’s all right.”

  “Do you need anything? Some water? Anything to eat?”

  “I want to know what’s happening with the bombs. Is it…over?”

  “We hope it’s over. No more planes. No more bombing runs.”

  “They’re getting ready to land troops.”

  “We have fighters up. So far nothing is near the coast.”

  “They could still be coming,” Max said.

  “I know.”

  “They sunk all our ships.”

  “They didn’t get the carriers, Max. The Lex and Enterprise are still out there with their planes.”

  Max put both hands on hers. “That’s right. Good. Hey. I’m a lapsed Catholic, as the priest always tells me.” He barked a laugh. “Have you got a prayer for a lapsed Catholic, sister? I want to see again.”

  “Sure, Max. I have all kinds of prayers.” She lowered her voice and prayed quietly over him. “Give him his sight back, Lord. Give him hope. Raise him off his sickbed. In Christ’s name.”

  Max crunched her hand. “Hey. That means a lot. Thank you. Will you come by again?”

  “I will. Today or tomorrow. God bless you, Max.”

  “Yeah, sister. You too.”

  Becky made her way slowly from bed to bed, sometimes talking and praying with those Raven or the chaplain had already seen. A few she kissed on the forehead. One reminded her of Wizard, and she combed his hair for him when he asked. Another had pictures in his wallet he tried to show her but they were glued together with his blood. Forty-five minutes had passed before she joined Raven and the chaplain at the front of the tent, and she kept rubbing her eyes to keep the tears back.

  The chaplain’s voice was gentle. “You’re a flight instructor at Peterson’s, aren’t you? I sure could use you at my side over the next few days.”

  Becky wiped her fingers against her jeans and blinked. “I’d be happy to help. There won’t be any flying at Peterson’s for a long time.”

  Raven took her hand. “You okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay.”

  “How’d you get the oil and grease off your face?”

  “One of the guys did that.”

  “Look, we don’t have to go ahead with the marriage stuff. Maybe—”

  She flared up. “Of course we have to go ahead with the marriage stuff. What other bright spot can I give the guys but that?” She swung her blazing green eyes on the chaplain. “I want to do it here. In this tent. They can all be my witnesses. And the nurse here, Cathy, she can be my maid of honor.”

  He smiled. “All right.”

  She had expected an argument. “All right?”

  “I thought it might come to that.”

  Tires screeched outside the tent opening.

  “What’s that?” she asked, drawing back the flap.

  “My marriage preparations,” the chaplain replied.

  The three of them stepped outside. Two jeeps full of men had pulled up in front. Billy Skipp jumped out.

  “Are you kidding me, Thunderbird?” he shouted. “The sky’s falling, we’re at war with Japan, I need planes up to look for the Japanese carriers and troopships, and you want to get married?”

  “Well, sir—”

  “Yes, we do!” snapped Becky.

  Skipp looked from her father, who was driving one of the jeeps, to her. “Are you behind this, Becky?”

  “Yes, I am, Billy.” It was the first time she had ever used his Christian name. “All I can tell the guys to buck them up—” she jerked her thumb at the tent “—is remind them the carriers weren’t in port when the bombs started dropping this morning. Well, I’m going to give them another shot in the arm. I’m getting married—here, now—to an army pilot before he goes on his next sortie. Two Americans are getting married and they’ll be back to celebrate their anniversary five years from now, ten years from now, in Hawaii, in America—because Hawaii is still going to be here and it is still going to be American.” She turned her eyes on her father. “Dad, you can give me away. And Nate can help.”

  “Honey,” Jude responded, “your mother’s not here.”

  “I know that. And neither is Aunt Ruth. But we don’t have time to give them a call and wait for them to show up. I’d love to have them here but we have to move ahead.” She looked over the men in both jeeps. “Since the chaplain decided to tell the world, the world can help too. Batman, Lockjaw, Whistler, you stand with Thunderbird. I’m asking a nurse to stand with me. T
hat’s all we need.” She paused as her eyes met Lockjaw’s. “You can pass on this, Lockjaw. I’m sorry.”

  “No.” He adjusted his aviator glasses. “Kali knows where I need to be.”

  “Lockjaw—”

  “I need to be here, Becky.”

  “Thank you,” she said quietly.

  Skipp put up both hands. “Now hold your horses, Little Missy. If it’s all about putting on a show for the boys—”

  Becky took her eyes off Lockjaw and they immediately flamed again. “Hold your own horses. It’s not just about putting on a show for the boys. I love Christian. I want him in my arms tonight when it gets dark. I want him there all night, Colonel.”

  “Becky, I need him in the air.”

  “I’ll bet you have other pilots up. You don’t need Thunderbird and the others right away.”

  “We are under attack—”

  “No, you’re not—sir. There hasn’t been a Japanese plane in the sky for hours.”

  “Becky, they could send in another wave at any time.”

  “Which is why we’d better hurry this along. It won’t take five minutes.” She walked back into the tent. “Guys. Hey. Can you all help me out with something?”

  Heads lifted.

  “What’s up?” asked half a dozen men.

  “Do you mind being part of a wedding ceremony in this tent? I want to tie the knot with my boyfriend the army pilot before he goes on another sortie. I need you guys as witnesses. I don’t care if you’re all witnesses but I need at least one or two.”

  Billy Skipp and Jude Whetstone entered as men were falling out of their beds and shouting and raising their hands to get Becky’s attention. When the chaplain stepped inside she turned to him.

  “Captain. Can we use them all?”

  “I don’t need fifty names. But I’ll attach an extra sheet. Just so they can all say they were here when Becky Whetstone married a fighter pilot the day Japan bombed Pearl Harbor.”

  “And do you have the book you do weddings and funerals with?”

  “Yes. It’s in my bag.”

  Becky called to the nurse at the far end of the tent. “Cathy. Will you be my maid of honor?”

  Cathy smiled, hung her stethoscope around her neck, and wrote on her clipboard. “I thought you’d never ask.”