by Murray Pura
Becky put her hands on her hips. “Colonel, do you want to say something to the boys?”
Skipp stared at her and at the men sitting up in their beds. Many of them were covered in bandages and blood. “God bless you, boys. I’m honored to be here.”
She suddenly flashed a grin. “Why, you are my guest of honor, sir.”
Lockjaw, Batman, and Whistler stood with Raven by the tent flap. Jude and Nate walked Becky up the aisle between the beds right behind Cathy Brown, the nurse. The chaplain led Becky and Raven through their vows. When he told Raven he could kiss the bride the tent was in an uproar, all the men cheering and whistling and shouting.
Raven curled his finger around her gold chain and gemstone. “I never noticed. You still have this.”
“Yeah. I still have it. It’s my ring.”
“I’ll get you a proper ring, Beck.”
“I don’t care. I really don’t. This is good enough.” She kissed him again.
The chaplain made the sign of the cross over them. “Highly irregular but that’s it.” The chaplain shook Raven’s hand. “Congratulations, Lieutenant. You’ve got a real firecracker on your hands. May God be with you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Cathy got signatures from Lockjaw, Whistler, and Batman, attached a clean sheet to her clipboard, and began to move among the beds, helping the wounded scribble their names.
“Rebecca.” Skipp kissed Becky on the cheek. “You look radiant in your flight jacket and white T-shirt and grease. I just wish I could drop you into a P-40. Your husband will have to do instead.”
She kissed him back. “Thanks for putting up with me, Billy Skipp.”
“I have to get your guy…your husband in the air.”
“I know.”
Raven leaned over and kissed her quickly on the lips. “I’m the happiest man on earth. But I gotta go. Even though you’re the most beautiful thing alive.”
Becky hugged him. “Oh, sure—love me and leave me.”
“Jump in the jeep with us. Come on.”
“Is there room?”
“We’ll make room.” He turned to Batman, Lockjaw, and Whistler. “Let’s go, guys.”
The jeeps raced back to the runway, Skinny at the wheel of one and Jude steering the other. As they neared the smoke and firefighting and airplanes Skinny suddenly started leaning on the horn. Skipp looked at his driver in surprise but did nothing to stop him. Heads turned. Skinny jumped up from his seat as he jammed on the brakes.
“Married!” he shouted. “Becky and Bird got married!”
Becky reddened and put her hand to her mouth. “Becky and Bird. That sounds awful.”
Skinny continued to honk the horn. “The chaplain married them ten minutes ago! Tell that to the Japanese!”
Laughter erupted from the throats of smoke-blackened ground crew and pilots still in their pajamas and soldiers rushing past with helmets on. Hands came together and clapped as Skinny continued to press his hand against the horn. Finally Jude shrugged and did it too.
Skipp shook his head. “Holy smoke, Becky, you are something else for morale.”
“They just needed something to cheer about, sir.”
“A wedding in a war zone looks to be it.” He nodded at Raven. “Your fighter is patched up and rearmed and ready to go. Head west toward Japan. See what you can see. Maintain radio contact. Stick together.”
“Yes, sir.”
Raven kissed Becky a final time and began to run toward his P-36. His fellow pilots were already climbing into their P-40s. The honking stopped and smoke drifted over the jeeps. Becky stood up as Raven headed down the runway and lifted into the air. She waved. Then collapsed into her seat.
Her father’s arm went around her shoulders. “Hey, my little girl. Chin up. You’ll have the rest of your lives together to look forward to.”
Becky was biting her knuckle. “Sure. If he comes back. What a wild and crazy thing for me to do. Typical.”
“He’ll come back.”
“How do you know, Dad? Anything could happen up there. The Japanese could launch another bombing run.”
He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “He’ll come back. God knows he has to come back.”
THIRTY-FOUR
We’re coming up on the Arizona now.” Gunny began to tie a water-soaked cloth over his nose and mouth. “Most of it’s underwater. But what’s on top is sure burning. And it’s spread to the West Virginia.” He handed Harrison a handful of cloths like the one he had put on. “Better pass these around.”
Harrison stared at the sunken ship as the launch slowed. “Where are the men?”
“Already picked up. Or still inside.”
Harrison narrowed his eyes. “God have mercy.”
Gunny nodded. “Aye. Mercy.”
Harrison began to cough as the black smoke smothered their boat. He tied the cloth over his face but still had trouble breathing. One body bobbed near the wreck, covered in oil, on fire. Glancing behind him he shook his head grimly. The last two men they had recovered lay dead in water and blood, rocking with the motion of the launch.
All the living they had plucked from the sea had been taken to the naval hospital at Hospital Point, near the beached battleship Nevada and the heavily bombed destroyer USS Shaw. They had made the trip seven times as they inched their way along Battleship Row, searching the debris for signs of life, passing the Pennsylvania, California, Maryland, and the other great ships. Everywhere there had been smoke and flame and drowned sailors. The California and West Virginia had sunk, the Oklahoma had capsized. The Arizona was the last in the row, moored at the north end of Ford Island. Its oily smoke clung to them like a fog bank.
“D’you see anything?’ asked Gunny, squinting through the haze. “The navy’s been looking for hours but you never know when someone might pop up.”
“Gunny! A swimmer!”
A man was stroking furiously to get away from the Arizona’s wreckage and the burning oil. “Help!” he screamed. “Please help!”
“Bring the boat in!” hollered Gunny. “Bring it in!”
“We’re too close to the fire,” argued the helmsman.
“I said, Bring it in! Do you hear me?”
“Gunny—”
Gunny threw the man off the rudder and took the helm himself. “Harrison! You others! Haul him in! Haul him in and be quick about it!”
The launch went right up to the Arizona. Flames leaped up blue and white and yellow on all sides of them. Harrison reached over and grabbed one of the man’s arms. The heat cut into his face. A sailor grabbed the other arm. But they could not get him over the side. The oil made him slide right through their fingers. He began to sink, his features rigid with fear.
“Oh, no, please, God, please, Jesus, help me!” the man cried.
Harrison dove straight into the flames.
THIRTY-FIVE
Becky.”
She turned to peer through the smoke. Her mother was standing on the runway. Behind her was Ruth.
“Mom!” They hugged. Then Becky extended her arm to bring her aunt into the embrace. “I’m sorry. I just had this feeling come over me. That I needed to marry Christian right now, today, that there wasn’t a moment to lose. Forgive me.”
Her mother patted her back. “Shh. Shh. Billy explained all this to us. We’re not angry. From the moment we heard, we’ve been praying for you.”
“Colonel Skipp phoned you?”
“Yes, dear. He thought we should know. Then he put your father on the phone, and he gave me more details.” She smiled a full smile. “It sounded very much like a straightforward, no-nonsense thing that Becky Whetstone might do. Astonishingly, it was even done officially, with all the correct paperwork. So now you really are Mrs. Rebecca Raven.” She kissed her daughter on the cheek.
Ruth added another kiss. “The Lord be with you forever and ever, amen. How delighted Bishop Zook would be to see you married to a Christian man. Even though it took place on a day of war,
it remains God’s peace in the midst of storm and conflict. How happy I am for you.”
Becky put her head on her aunt’s chest. “How can you be happy for me when you have lost so much? How can Lockjaw stand with me and Raven when he has lost so much?”
“Lockjaw and I have lost a great deal, it’s true. But we haven’t lost our capacity to love. And we both love you and Christian.”
The three women continued to hug each other.
“Who will talk to Hani?” asked Becky.
“Your father told us who had been killed.” Lyyndaya smoothed her daughter’s unbrushed hair. “Ruth and I will go to her and tell her about Wizard. The colonel will stop by later. But he agreed it would be best if we could go first.”
“Perhaps you should leave now.”
“No, my dear. We will see your husband safely down first. Then we’ll go to Hani.”
Ruth smiled. “And there’s something we must show you.”
Becky had been standing by herself at the edge of the runway. They led her to a small Quonset hut behind one of the larger hangars. A sign posted outside informed Army Air Forces personnel that the hut was for the storage of rope and hoses. But a sheet of paper tacked to the door said in bright orange crayon, Honeymoon hut of Mr. and Mrs. Raven, December 7, 1941.
“What?” Becky touched the orange-crayon writing. “Who did this?”
“Billy Skipp ordered it,” her mother replied. “He asked us to help make a home out of the hut after we drove up to Wheeler. So a bunch of soldiers and airmen moved the rope and hoses and other gear and brought in what they thought would make it charming. Ruth and I did the rest.”
Becky wrapped her fingers around the door handle, looked at her mother and aunt, and bit her lip. “Should I?”
“Of course. There may be other things you wish to fix up before Christian lands.”
Becky opened the door. There was a groan of metal on metal. Sunshine tumbled through the doorway. Inside were two chairs around a small round table. On the table was a vase of roses. To Becky’s left was a bed with two pillows, covered with the Amish quilt Ruth had stitched for Manuku. Right next to the bed was a table with a candle.
“My goodness.” Becky’s mouth was open in surprise. “The boys did this for me?”
Ruth nodded. “They were glad to do it, believe me. The one bright spot in their day. Now they’re back at their fires and trying to salvage as many planes as they can. Or on the beaches preparing for an attack.”
“They’ve been so kind.” Becky pulled back the quilt to look at the sheets. They were white and soft. She looked up. “And you, both of you, look at what you’ve done for me. Yet you didn’t even get an invitation to the wedding.”
“Well.” Her mother had her small smile. “We were hoping we would get one to the reception.”
“A reception. When will I be able to do that?”
“Not this week. But someday soon, I pray, you will remember your mother and your aunt when it comes time to open your home to visitors.”
She hugged her mother and Ruth again with a sudden burst of happiness and strength. “Of course I will. Thank you for everything.”
There was a sudden banging on the door that made them jump and turn around.
Forgetting herself, Ruth blurted, “Was ist das?”
A young man’s voice responded, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but is Becky Whetstone in there? Or her mother or aunt?”
“Wir sind alle hier.”
“Pardon me?”
Lyyndaya put a hand on her sister’s arm. “The three of us are in here.”
Skinny stepped into view. “I didn’t want to barge in on something personal.”
“You didn’t. What is it you want?”
“The colonel wanted me to relay this message to you right away. If you wish to join him at his office my jeep is at your disposal.”
“What is the message?”
Skinny handed Lyyndaya a sheet of paper folded in half. “Ma’am.”
Becky, Lyyndaya, Ruth—
Our own antiaircraft guns have been firing at American planes because they think they are Japanese. We have lost two fighters and their pilots. Please join me immediately.
Billy Skipp
THIRTY-SIX
Break left and right! Break left and right! They’ve got our altitude!”
“Wheeler, we’re being fired on by our own AA.”
“Roger. Get clear of Pearl Harbor. Get clear. They can’t recognize your insignia.”
“Breaking left!”
“Thunderbird! Thunderbird! Does anyone have a visual of Bird?”
“Negative. He’s not off either wing here.”
“Did his plane go down? Did anyone see the P-36 go down? Can you confirm?”
“More AA. Head inland. Head for base.”
“Boxcars. Who can give me a report on Boxcars?”
“He’s down. Never saw smoke but he’s down.”
“Did you see him crash? Can you verify a crash?”
“Low on fuel. Heading back.”
“This is Wheeler. Did you spot enemy troopships? Did you spot a task force?”
“No troopships close to Oahu. Repeat. No troopships. No carriers. No task force.”
“Our formation is clear of Pearl, Wheeler.”
“If any of you eyeball Bird shout it out.”
“Roger, Lockjaw.”
Raven tried again and again to make radio contact but a flak burst had knocked out his microphone—he could hear his squadron but they couldn’t hear him. He had taken a long loop out to sea to avoid antiaircraft fire and was now trying to get to Wheeler from the east coast, his needle trembling just above empty, his engine stuttering, fabric torn by AA flapping wildly on his port wing. The sun was low on the horizon and the sea was full of shadows.
Just a few nights ago it was the full moon. What will it be tonight? Half of that? Lord, I have to get home, sun or no sun, moon or no moon. I’m a married man now. Have to make it. My guys think I’m gone.
He made his way past the beaches and over the palms. To his left he could just catch a glimpse of antiaircraft going up and bursting in the late afternoon sky. He glanced at his watch. The crystal was smashed and the hands had stopped at 0437 hours. He had no idea what the time was. Scanning the instrument panel he could see the oil pressure dropping and the gas gauge about to indicate an empty tank. He rubbed a hand over his face and his day’s growth of beard.
There’s nothing I can do but nurse it along—reduce my airspeed, take more time, and hope I don’t crash into a hillside in the dark. Or I could speed up and get to Wheeler faster and risk having the engine cut out—and I would drop like a stone right in front of Becky’s eyes.
“Asking again—any sign of Boxcars? Any sign of Bird?”
“Negative.”
“No one up here but us, boss.”
Miles ahead, still specks to him, Raven watched his squadron descend and land where a tall plume of black smoke hung in the golden sky. He was already flying as low as he dared in order to conserve fuel, confident there were no AA batteries on his route and, if there were, the gunners would see the stars on his plane. Now and then a white or bronzed face gaped up at him, and some people ran.
I don’t blame you. I guess I would run too after what’s happened today.
Jungle and fields swept past under his wings. The light took on a copper color as the sun sank. His engine coughed and rumbled and then coughed again. The plume of smoke was close but not close enough. He was too low to parachute and didn’t like using a chute anyway.
If I could just reach an open field near the runway. Just a long-enough stretch to handle my slide. Flat would be great too.
He smiled. “What would you say about a prayer like that, Beck?” he asked out loud. “Nothing much to it, is there? But I sure mean it. Every part of me means it.”
The engine cut out.
“We have an unidentified aircraft approaching from the east. He is coming in low and looks t
o be preparing to strafe the airfield. Who’s still up?”
“Batman’s up.”
“Whistler’s up.”
“Engage fighter. Repeat. Engage fighter. He is descending rapidly to treetop level.”
“Got him.”
“On him with Batman.”
“Hey. That’s one of ours. Say again, that’s one of ours. It’s a P-36.”
“Thunderbird. A definite. It’s the Bird. Can you read us? Bird, can you read us?”
“Wheeler. We have Thunderbird. He doesn’t appear to be under power. We identify him as the plane approaching from the east. Do not fire on him. Repeat. Do not open fire. It is Thunderbird.”
“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! Thunderbird is hitting trees and losing control. He may have enough to get to the edge of the airstrip. Clear personnel from the runway immediately.”
Raven fought the stick, forcing the nose up. The P-36 struck the grass with a loud bang and the canopy split. He kept thinking, Too much speed, too much speed, but his brakes did nothing. The metal screeched and the wings bounced against the ground. One snapped off and flipped back over the top of the plane, just missing him. Mud and stones spattered the glass. The only words that sped through Raven’s mind were from an old hymn his mother always sang.
Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.
Then even that was taken away as his P-36 skidded onto the concrete of the runway. Sparks and flame showered its wings, and it hurtled toward the still burning wreckage of the morning’s attack.
THIRTY-SEVEN
We got the guy up to the hospital okay,” Gunny said to his men.
“They say it looks good but we can check back on him tomorrow or Tuesday if we’re not fighting off an invasion.”
“All right.”
“They bandaged Harrison’s hands from the oil burns. He wouldn’t stay up there. Said there were too many people worse off than him and he’d be taking space from someone who needed it.”
The sailor glanced over at Harrison who was leaning against the gunwale and saying nothing, his uniform oil and blood, his hands white with the bandages.
