by Murray Pura
“Rush you? You’d better wolf that breakfast down before Billy Skipp shows up. You’ve only got about fifteen minutes.”
He put the plate aside and reached for her. “I don’t need fifteen minutes.” Hugging her, he whispered in her ear, “We could hide out here all morning.”
She kissed his cheek and hugged him back. “They know we’re in this hut. It’s not a very good hiding place.”
“Nanakuli Beach then.”
“It’s strung with barbed wire and thick with soldiers.”
“I’ve got a new P-36. Squeeze in with me. Fly with me. We’re on our honeymoon for pity’s sake.”
She rubbed her nose against his. “I know we’re on a honeymoon. I’d love to be squirreled away with you all day. But when you open that door you’ll remember yesterday.”
“There’s lots I’d like to forget. But not you. Never you.”
“I get that impression.”
After Raven had shaved and showered—awkwardly to keep his bandages intact—they walked together to the plane. A haze was all around them. The sun rose red in the smoke. He moved with a limp and Becky had tied a new strip of gauze over the wound on his forehead. Skinny drove up with Billy Skipp just as Raven was giving Becky a goodbye kiss.
“How was the wedding night, lovebirds?” asked Skipp coming over to them. “I hope the hut was comfortable.”
Becky hugged Raven’s arm. “It was a palace, Colonel. I hope we can use it again tonight.”
“Three or four nights if that’s okay with you. Then I’ll have a house for you in the Married Officers’ Residences.” The smile was suddenly gone. “You had a pretty big knock yesterday, Bird. How are you feeling?”
“Top-notch.”
“We don’t know where our carriers are or where the enemy’s are. Hunt north and west, Thunderbird. If anything happens to Lockjaw you’re squadron leader.”
“What about Batman?”
“Batman takes over if you can’t perform your duties. He knows that. Now get up. For all we know enemy ships are not far over the horizon.”
“Yes, sir.”
Raven climbed into his cockpit, gave Becky thumbs-up, and pulled the canopy home. The engine roared and exhaust spilled over her and Skipp. Lockjaw walked up as Raven rolled out onto the runway.
“Hey, Stardust.” He offered Becky a Chiclet. “We’ll be keeping an eye on your husband today. Lots of eyes.”
Becky took the Chiclet. “Thanks, Lockjaw.”
“Good morning, sir.”
“Lockjaw. North by west. Find the enemy task force. Find the carriers.”
“Understood.” Lockjaw put on his aviator glasses. “I saw Hani last night, Becky.”
“How was she?”
“Not so great.” He turned to Skipp. “She was grateful for your visit yesterday, sir. And the time Mrs. Whetstone and Miss Kurtz spent with her. But the night was hard.”
“All day—all week—in the United States chaplains and naval and army officers will be knocking on doors. Your son went down with the Oklahoma. Your son went down with the Utah. Your son died at Wheeler Army Air Forces Base. We regret to inform you. Our condolences. Thousands of doors, Lockjaw. My heart breaks for Hani. But she is just one of those thousands of doors.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll visit her again today. How are Kalino’s parents? I assume you saw them.”
Lockjaw stopped chewing. “I did. They’re holding up.”
“And you?”
“Right as rain, sir.”
“Visit them again tonight.”
“Not a problem, sir. That was my intention.”
“All right. Now get up.” He saluted Lockjaw. “We’re at war since five to eight Sunday morning.”
Lockjaw returned the salute. “Sir.” He began to stride toward his P-40, turning to look back at Becky. “All eyes, girl.”
“Bless you, Lockjaw.”
Skipp left in the jeep but Becky remained where she was until the whole squadron had taken off, all of them in P-40s but Raven.
A man ran up with a note in his hand, his eyes watching the last of planes leave the runway. “Shoot. I missed them. I have a radio message for Lockjaw or Batman or Thunderbird. From the Taney.”
“The Taney?” A coldness struck Becky’s spine. “From who?”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but—”
“For heaven’s sake, soldier, Thunderbird is my husband. You know what kind of day it was yesterday. A friend of ours is on the Taney. Can’t I at least find out if he’s alive?”
“Yes, ma’am. Please give this to your husband when he returns.”
She took the message from him.
I wanted you to know I’m okay. The enemy did not attack Honolulu Harbor. Please let me know if the boys are all right.
David went down with the Arizona.
Harrison, RM1, USCGC Taney
Becky choked back a sob. She felt that if she started crying she would never stop. Closing her eyes, she remembered David singing on the beach Saturday night. It felt as if her chest was suddenly full of blackness, heavy as stone.
Gott erbarme, Christus erbarme dich.
God have mercy. Christ have mercy.
She wiped her eyes with her fingertips and put the note in her pocket.
Drifting off the runway, Becky found herself heading toward the medical tents. The chaplain called out when he saw her standing by the opening of one he had just entered.
“If you’ve got time on your hands, I could use your help, Mrs. Raven.”
She came into the tent. “There are no planes at Peterson’s to fly, Chaplain. And even if there were I doubt the navy or army air forces would allow us to put them up. Let me help.”
“Talk to Cathy. Some of the men can’t feed themselves, and some would feel better if their faces were washed and shaved, but she can’t get to it.”
“I’ll do that. Have you seen one of our army pilots? Boxcars?”
“Boxcars? Was he the one that crashed on the Big Island?”
“Maui.”
“Right. His injuries were too severe for us, Becky. He was taken to Tripler Army Hospital as soon as they got him here. Tripler’s overflowing but they found him a bed. He’ll be fine. I was talking with Pastor Thor. He’s been helping me out. You know him, don’t you?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
She began to go up and down the rows of beds. After a few minutes she went to get a basin of hot water and some razors and a cake of shaving soap. Man after man received her attention for whatever needs they had. Even if it was just to talk.
Then at lunch, Becky’s mother and father showed up and told her Aunt Ruth was having a difficult day. The three of them got away behind the tent and prayed together.
At four, Raven came by and announced that he was beat and was going to take a nap before going up again.
“There’s nothing out there, Beck,” he told her. “We’ve gone in every direction. The sea is empty.”
“They could come tomorrow. Or Wednesday.”
He shook his head. “Not troops. And I don’t believe dive bombers or torpedo bombers are in the region anymore. I guess no one’s given you the news. The Japanese have invaded Malaya and Thailand. That’s where their soldiers are. And they’re bombing Hong Kong and Singapore and the Philippines—that’s where their soldiers are going to be. Canada had already declared war on Japan yesterday—they have regiments in Hong Kong. Roosevelt did it today. So did the Brits and the Dutch and New Zealand. It’s another world war, Beck. But it’s not happening here. It’s happening south and west of us.”
“What does Pearl Harbor look like today?”
“Like a bunch of tall buildings have collapsed. And nothing’s left but the skeletons—twisted girders and smoke.”
She did not see him again. She thought her brother or some of the army pilots might stop by but the day ended without any more visitors. The chaplain ordered her out at sunset.
“Go find your husband and work on you
r marriage,” he said. “But I’d love to have you back here in the morning.”
“I’ll see you at dawn, sir.”
“Thank you, Becky.”
The Quonset hut was empty, red sunlight illuminating the bed, the table, and a dresser with a mirror someone had brought in. She opened a few drawers and found most of them contained her own clothing as well as towels and facecloths. Glancing in the mirror she stuck out her tongue and made a face.
“You’ve never looked as bad as this,” she said to her reflection. “Your husband may not come back.” Immediately she wished she had not spoken those words. “Shut up, Becky,” she muttered to herself.
Taking a towel, soap, and clean clothes she made her way to the shower. As the cold water ran over her in a trickle she thought, I am cleaning the death off me. All the blood. All the smoke of dying ships.
Back at the mirror her shirt looked too white, her hair too blond, and her eyes too green. She began to cry and didn’t understand why. She put one hand on the dresser to brace herself and put the other to her face.
“Hey.” Strong hands gently caressed her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
She gasped and spun and buried her face in his chest. “Oh, thank God, you’re back. You made it down safe.” She clutched his flight jacket, crying. “I’m sorry. I should be dancing. I don’t know what’s wrong.”
He put his arms around her. “Beck. It’s everything. Yesterday and today and tomorrow. You feel it all. It’s okay.”
“I have no idea what to do. Everything’s falling apart. How long does a war last?”
“A war like this lasts a long time.” He led her to the bed, took off her boots, and drew the Amish quilt up to her chin. “I talk a lot about how beautiful you look. I don’t spend near enough time telling you how beautiful you are inside.” He closed her eyelids and kissed them. “You’re very special, Becky Raven.”
Her tears had not stopped. “You make it worse when you talk like that. You make me cry more.” She reached out a hand from under the covers and he took it. “Are we going to make it, Christian? Are we going to make it through?”
“You bet.”
“No getting shot down? No missing in action?”
“I promise.”
“Liar.” Becky laughed and cried. “You’d promise me the world if you could get away with it.”
“I do promise you the world.”
“Even if you could do it, it won’t be the same world. Not after years of war.” She caught sight of her jeans crumpled up on the floor where she’d dropped them. The note with the radio message was halfway out of one of the pockets. “There’s something I didn’t tell you.”
His face took on a somber look. “What happened?”
“A radio message came in this morning. It was from Harrison. He’s all right.”
“That’s good news.”
“He said that Dave Goff went down with the Arizona.”
Raven hesitated. He gripped her hand more tightly. “You and I have dealt with a lot of healing. God will have to heal us of this too. All of this. But we’ll make it through, Becky. I swear it.”
FORTY
Lobet den Herrn!”
Ruth let the gentle waves wet the bottom of her long Amish dress. After a moment she waded out farther, and a whitecap broke over her stomach and chest. She laughed.
“The Amish would tell me to repent, but I can’t repent from falling in love with Manuku. Or dancing with him. Or kissing him. Or singing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow.’ Do you understand that? It’s important to me you understand that.”
Becky stood on the shore in her jacket, white T-shirt, and jeans. “What will you repent of then?”
“Leaving them. Leaving them and following you to Hawaii. Of course part of me is sorry I ever left, but another part is grateful to God I did.”
“If you feel that way, why are you going back?”
“Oh, life between me and God and the Amish is very complicated. The whole world is on fire and I just want to be someplace that feels safe and where I understand what is going on. The Amish are my shelter in the storm. The Amish and God.” She smiled. “I will not love again. So now it is good to be with Mother and Father and my people.”
“How can you say you won’t love again?”
Ruth shook her head as waves broke against her. Her hair began to unravel from its bun. “When I prayed my prayer for Manuku’s soul, and asked for God’s mercy in Christ, and threw that lei onto the sea at the church service, I knew such a life was not meant to be mine—a life such as yours, with a husband and children.”
“Children? Aunt Ruth, I’ve only been married for ten days.”
“Yes, of course, but in time it will fall to you and Christian to raise sons and daughters. As it’s fallen to me to bless Mother and Father and other people’s children instead. I don’t mind that. Now that Manuku is gone I wish to be back in Pennsylvania more than anything in the world.”
“And us? What about us? Nate and I. Your sister, Lyyndaya. Jude.”
“You have one another.”
Becky folded her arms over her chest. A formation of eight P-40s and two P-36s whistled over Waikiki and she watched them disappear across the ocean, wondering if Raven was one of them.
“Not for long,” she said. “Nate will be going to the States for pilot training and then he’s requested a transfer to Europe. With Christian resigning his commission in the army and going to the naval air station at Pensacola for carrier training—and whatever else they think an army pilot has to learn all over again—well…he’ll be gone for months.”
Ruth stopped stirring the waves with her foot and waded through the surf to Becky, taking her niece in her arms and hugging her. Despite the cold wetness of the dress Becky tightened her arms around her aunt’s back.
“War.” Ruth sighed. “I am sorry for war. The Amish are right to oppose it. That’s another reason I’m returning to Lancaster County.”
“You remember Bishop Zook’s letter. He said some Christians were called to defend.”
“Ja. Well, it is not my calling, my dear Rebecca. But I will always be praying for you and Christian and Nate. It doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing. My prayers will be constant. I’m just sorry you’ll be without your brother or your husband.”
She linked her arm through her niece’s and they began to walk along the beach. “I’m so naïve, Becky. For the first week everyone worried about an invasion. So when it didn’t come I thought, There will be peace quickly. But then the Japanese attacked so many places and I realized there would be no peace, only more killing.”
“I didn’t think there could be peace, Aunt Ruth, not after the attack. I just had a hard time believing the whole thing had really happened. That so many of our friends were gone. Even that I was married to Christian. So I would drive down to the harbor and stare at the wrecks of the fleet. Or stand on the runway at Wheeler and look at the burnt-out fighters. Go to the army cemetery and look at the graves of Wizard and Shooter and Juggler. I would stand and wait for Christian at the road to the Married Officers’ Quarters, sure he wouldn’t come, sure I had dreamed it all up.”
Ruth nodded. “I go over and over the day in my mind, wanting to change how it ended, wanting my mind to give me different images than the ones I’ve held for almost two weeks. I wish so badly to see Manuku smiling at me with red carnations in his hand. But it’s no use. I can only give the day to God and try to forgive.”
“People in America don’t talk about forgiveness, Aunt Ruth.”
“The Amish do. I can hear them as if they were walking beside us right now—quoting Scripture, telling us to bless our enemy, to do good to him, to turn the other cheek.”
“I can hear them too.”
“So I need to put my voice with theirs. It’s not for everybody to do this, perhaps. But it is for me to do this. To do this and never leave Paradise again. One day the Japanese will be our friends again, I hope. And the Germans and Italians.
I want to be part of that spirit, Becky. Not the other.”
Becky stopped walking. “But the Japanese are attacking people. And killing them. All over the world. Just like they’ve done in Manchuria and China. So are the Italians and the Germans. You make it sound so easy. As if it is just a spat at the dinner table. People are being murdered, Aunt Ruth. Children are being murdered. The Japanese and Germans are not full of remorse. They’re not sorry for Nanking or Leningrad or Pearl Harbor.”
“It doesn’t matter what they do or don’t do. It only matters what we do, what I do, how I pray, how I bless.”
“Of course it matters what they do. Do you think if I’d shouted out of my cockpit, ‘I forgive you!’ the Japanese pilot would have stopped from killing Kalino? That if Dave Goff had stood on the deck of the Arizona and cried, ‘I bless you!’ the dive bombers would have gone back to their carriers and never blown up the ship and murdered a thousand men? If it matters what we do, it matters what they do too.”
“Your husband is an army pilot—”
Becky’s face darkened with blood. “I don’t care if he’s a used-car salesman. Nate was in China long before I met Christian Scott Raven. He prayed, he begged, he turned the other cheek. And they bayoneted and decapitated women and children anyway. Someone has to defend. Someone has to be there between the prayer for peace and when peace finally shows up. I’m not saying that because Christian’s a fighter pilot. I’m saying it because I don’t want to see a million people slaughtered while everyone else is standing by waiting for peace to come.”
“A million will be slaughtered anyway, my dear. War always takes life. It’s always greedy for more souls. War doesn’t stop the killing.”
Becky’s voice dropped. “I know that. There will be a lot more killed before peace comes. I could lose my own husband. But one thing won’t happen, Aunt Ruth. The murderers won’t get away with it. The warlords aren’t going to kill the innocent anymore without answering for what they do. It’s judgment day.”
Becky’s eyes had gone a cold green. Ruth stared at her, her mouth partly open.
“Rebecca. It is not for us to judge.”
“God is the judge, yes. But the instruments of his judgment will not be surrender and massacre. They’ll be resistance.”
