The Widow's Choice

by Gilbert, Morris

  Alona stood up, not wanting to say more. Indeed, she had been burdened with concern for Jason and for several other young men from their town who had signed up to serve immediately after Pearl Harbor was bombed. Many of the others, however, were still in training camps, while she had the feeling that Jason was in the very heart of the battle.

  “One other thing,” the pastor said as he got up as well. “Would you mind going by and seeing Julie Donaldson? She just got word yesterday that her husband was killed in Corregidor. She’s got two small children, and she’s pretty devastated.”

  “I’d be glad to, although I don’t know what I can say.”

  “There’s really not much that we can say. Nothing can ever heal the wound of losing a husband. She just needs someone to be with her, listen to her. I was there yesterday and again this morning, but women do this sort of thing much better than men, I think.”

  “I’d be glad to go.”

  “You know where she lives, don’t you?”

  Alona nodded. “I’ll go straight there.”

  ****

  Jason approached the carrier, and as always, experienced a moment of fear. To put a Dauntless dive bomber down on the heaving deck of a carrier that looked no bigger than a postage stamp from the air was always a challenge. Already three pilots had misjudged their landing. One of them had been killed, and two others had been fished out of the sea. Jason had a natural gift for this sort of thing, however, and expertly came in with the nose high, and he felt the cable grab. The impact threw him forward as the plane was halted abruptly. He sat there for a moment while the men who cared for the planes swarmed over it. He undid his safety belt and climbed out, finding that his legs were so stiff they felt weak.

  “You feeling okay, Lieutenant?” Jim Abraham was a neat young man from New Mexico. He took care of the plane as if it were his own private property and at times even scolded Jason for treating it roughly.

  “I’m all right, Jimmy. Just stiff.”

  “That was a long flight. You see anything?”

  “Lots of ocean.”

  “No carriers, huh?”

  “Not yet.”

  “We’ll see ’em one day, and when we do, you and The Daisy here will sink one of them carriers.” Jimmy had called the aircraft The Daisy ever since he had started working on it. The two men worked closely together, and nobody knew better than Jason how important it was that the airplane be in tip-top shape. He knew it would be, as Jimmy always took care of it.

  Jason joined Tommy Edwards and the other pilots who were walking wearily across to the island.

  “I’m gonna give you some more lessons on landing on a carrier,” Tommy told Jason teasingly.

  “Why, I’d appreciate that, Tommy.” In fact, Tommy had wrecked two planes already and was the most inept pilot in the squadron at landing a plane. He was, however, an expert at everything else. It was only the landings that gave him problems.

  Captain Hack Odom, the squadron leader, overheard the two and said, “We’re gonna run out of airplanes if you don’t stop crashing them, Edwards.”

  “Oh, I reckon I’ve broken the habit, Captain. When are you going to find us some of them Jap carriers? I want to get a medal. Plan to sink two or three by myself.”

  Odom liked to see cockiness in a pilot and possessed some of that quality himself. “I’ll see what I can do. I don’t guess the rest of us even need to bother going if you’re going to handle it all.”

  “That’s all right. You fellows can come along,” Edwards said airily, waving his hand in an eloquent gesture. “You can confirm all my kills.”

  A laugh went up from the other pilots. Everybody liked Tommy, even though he wasn’t the best pilot.

  The men made their way to the mess hall, joking all the way. Jason grinned at the tall black man who was putting food on the plates. “What do you have for us today, Tall Boy?” Jason asked. “Something fit to eat, I hope.”

  “Now, Lieutenant, don’t you be bad mouthin’ my cookin’.”

  “I won’t. You’re a great cook. When I get rich and famous, I’m going to hire you to cook for me.”

  “Didn’t know you was that rich, Lieutenant.” Tall Boy grinned.

  “Well, I’m not yet, but I may be someday. When the war is over, then I’ll get rich.”

  A great deal of howling and gyration arose from Jeff Tombs. “I bet you own one of them big cotton plantations, Moran. Have folks waitin’ on you hand and foot.”

  “That’s me. Just like Gone With the Wind.”

  “You got a Miss Scarlett waitin’ for you back there on that plantation?” Tombs asked.

  Jason’s face suddenly lost its grin. “No, not me.” A silence fell on the room, for at one time or another, all of them had tried to find out what kind of life Jason had led. Most of the others had been willing to talk about their family and their background, but Jason had said almost nothing. He was the crack flier of the squadron, surpassing even Hack Odom, which many had sworn could never be done.

  Jason ate methodically. He had almost become a machine. Eat, sleep, get up, fly. Come back, eat, sleep, get up, fly. So far the men had seen absolutely no action, but still every flight was a nerve-wracking experience. They flew long sweeps, and fuel consumption became a problem. Finding a carrier in the middle of a trackless ocean was a feat that was difficult for most people to conceive. On each flight the men were wary, for rumors were circulating that the Japanese were on the prowl in the Pacific. They had some huge carriers, and their pilots were good. The Americans knew this much.

  When Jason finished his meal, he complimented Tall Boy and then went to his bunk, which he shared with Tommy Edwards and Jimmy Abraham. They had stayed at the mess hall to play poker, but that particular vice had little appeal for Jason. He lay down, picked up his Bible, and began to read. Something had happened to him when he had completely given himself to God back in Jonesboro. Before that time, the Bible had been pretty much a dead book to him, but now it was living indeed! He was finding the book of John and the Psalms to be his favorite books. He began reading now in the Psalms. He read aloud in a soft whisper and after a time put the Bible down and turned his heart to prayer. He prayed for the members of his squadron, for Alona and her boys, and finally for Oscar. . . .

  ****

  Alona heard the boys shouting and went outside. They had gathered a wagonload of what appeared to be junk. “What on earth have you boys got?”

  “Aluminum, Mom. Haven’t you heard about the aluminum drive? It’s to build airplanes with,” Zac said. His eyes were bright as he added, “Look at all we got!”

  “Yeah, we need some of your pans, Mom,” Carl said.

  “Or whatever else you have that’s made of metal,” Tim put in.

  “All right. Let’s see if Mrs. Darrow has some extra things she can part with.” She and the boys went into the kitchen and started looking through the cupboards. They would have taken every pan in the house if she had not kept them from it.

  Leah Darrow came scurrying in, her eyes wide. “Mrs. Moran,” she said, “you have to come quick.”

  “What is it, Mrs. Darrow?”

  “It’s Mr. Oscar. He’s in the hospital.”

  “Did he have an accident?”

  “No, ma’am, the doctors say it’s his heart, and they say for you to come right now.”

  “I’ll go right away.”

  “We want to go with you, Mom!” Zac insisted.

  “No. You boys stay here. I’ll call as soon as I find out how serious it is.”

  Alona left the house and drove at once to the hospital. When she got there, she ran inside to the reception desk. “I believe Mr. Oscar Moran was just brought in?”

  “Yes. He’s in intensive care. It’s on the second floor.”

  When she reached the intensive care ward, she encountered Dr. Roberts coming out. “What is it, Doctor?”

  “He had a heart attack, Alona. It doesn’t look good.”

  “But he seemed to be doing bette
r lately. He hasn’t had any chest pains for a few weeks, at least.”

  “That’s the way these things are.” Dr. Roberts shook his head. “I’ve been warning him for years. He works too many hours, and he hasn’t lost weight.”

  “He’ll be all right, won’t he?”

  “I hope so. But his heart is in bad shape. I can’t hide that from you.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “Yes. He’s awake. Try to give him all the encouragement you can, Alona.”

  “I will.” She went through the door and searched the beds until she found Oscar. He had an oxygen mask on his face, and his eyes were closed.

  “Oscar, are you asleep?” she asked gently. His eyes opened, and she saw his lips move. “Don’t try to talk,” she said. “I got here as quick as I could.” She reached out and took his hand and held it in both of hers. His skin was clammy, and she felt a tremor in it. He had strong hands and had never shown any weakness, but now she knew that this had shaken him deeply. “I’ll pray for you,” she whispered and began to pray aloud softly. She felt his hand close on hers tightly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Battle in the Coral Sea

  After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, it seemed that the Japanese empire did not need to worry about a long war as they swept through the Pacific, unstoppable in their assault. In the central Pacific, Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto’s carriers aided the Japanese marines as they took Wake Island after a terrific defense by American marines. The Japanese took the Netherlands East Indies in March 1942, with its wealth of rubber so desperately needed by Japan.

  The Japanese were hoping to isolate Australia, which would prevent American forces from using that country as a basis for counterattacks. An aura of invincibility seemed to surround the Japanese forces, but Japan’s supremacy was about to be challenged by the United States. The United States had only four aircraft carriers in the Pacific: the Yorktown, the Hornet, the Lexington, and the Enterprise. Opposing them was Yamamoto’s carrier fleet, comprised of six massive carriers. Altogether the Japanese had ten carriers with which to carry out its attack. Up to this point nothing had been able to stand before the Japanese onslaught, but now in order to keep Australia from falling into the hands of the Japanese, the United States naval carrier force stood as the only hope of achieving that end.

  ****

  “What do you think, Lieutenant?” Mack Morrison asked. “We gonna get us a carrier today?”

  Jason was leaning against the side of The Daisy, grinning at his gunner. Morrison was a tall, gangling Texan who chewed gum nonstop, his jaw slowing down only when he was asleep. He chomped now like one of the Texas longhorns he often spoke of, but Jason shrugged his shoulders. “That would be nice, Mack. You just keep those Zeros off our tail when they come after us.”

  “Aw, shucks, Lieutenant! It’ll be nothin’ but a turkey shoot.” Morrison was apparently one of those men born without fear. In the recent battles off the northeast coast of Australia, he had flown seven missions with Jason, shooting down three Zeros. The man was now smiling broadly. “I aim for us to get a couple of medals, then when I go back to Texas and go to a dance, the gals will line right up to have their turn with me.”

  “I thought they already did that.”

  “Well, shoot, Lieutenant, they do, of course, and that’s why I gotta come through this war. If anything happened to me, there’d be women all over Texas wearin’ black mournin’ outfits.”

  Morrison had a soothing effect on Jason’s nerves. Even though Jason had miraculously overcome his fear of flying, to dive straight into the fire that flew up from Japanese warships was something else again. He always functioned fine when he needed to, but after the action was over, it was not unusual for him to get worked up over what could have happened. He had kept it hidden from his fellow pilots, and he was strangely comforted to know that most of them had the same problem.

  “I’ll be glad when we get a better fighter to take care of us,” he mumbled as an F4F Wildcat fighter shot off the deck.

  “You don’t like them Wildcats, sir? Why, I think they’re plumb nifty.” As a matter of fact, the Wildcat was a little beer bottle of a plane with four .50-caliber wing-mounted machine guns. It was a close match for the Zero but slower. It was, however, heavily armored and harder to shoot down, though it could not climb as quickly or turn as sharply as the Zero.

  “The plane’s all right, but most of our pilots haven’t seen real combat, and those Japs have. Most of them were in on the Pearl Harbor attack.”

  “Well, scuttlebutt says there’s gonna be a fight,” Morrison said. He popped his gum, a habit that irritated Jason to no end, although he never mentioned it. “As long as we got The Daisy, them Japs better watch out.”

  The two men stood on the deck, for the fighter escorts were all circling overhead, then the signal came for the Devastator torpedo bombers to begin launching. The two men watched, and Morrison shook his head. “I’d hate to be on one of them torpedo bombers. Why, I can run about as fast as they can fly.” In truth, the Devastator was already obsolete. Its maximum speed was 206 miles per hour, and it had a cruising speed of a 128 miles an hour, which made it a perfect target for the enemy. As it came in slowly, the enemy gunners could not miss. One of the pilots in the squadron called it the coffin squadron.

  “Those fellows have more nerve than anybody I’ve ever known,” Jason said.

  “Yeah, they’re nervy all right, but they shoot a pretty good stick with that torpedo.”

  Jason did not tell Morrison that the torpedoes used by the Devastators were highly inferior. Half of them did not even explode when they did make impact, but there was no sense in telling the Texan that.

  As the last of the dive bombers were being launched, Captain Hack Odom came by. “It’s the real thing this time,” he told the pilots. “We got word that two Jap carriers are out there, and we know where they are.”

  Mack Morrison said innocently, “Well, shucks, Captain Odom, there ain’t no sense in the rest of you boys goin’. Me and Lieutenant Moran here can take care of them fellows.”

  “You gonna sink both of them with your one bomb?”

  “We’ll make it ricochet.” Morrison grinned.

  Odom didn’t smile often, but the tall Texan always amused him. “You watch out for Moran here,” he told Morrison. “I can’t afford to lose him, or you either.”

  “No problem, sir.”

  “We need to wipe out those two flat tops, Moran,” the captain said. “America needs a victory of some kind. If we don’t stop this Japanese drive to bottle up Australia, it’s going to be a blow for the folks at home.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll do our best.”

  “And take care of yourself up there.”

  “I’ll do that, Captain.”

  Odom nodded and jogged across the deck. He got into his plane, and Jason said, “Well, let’s go, Tex.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  The duo scrambled to their plane, Jason climbing into the front cockpit and Morrison in the rear. In no time Jason was looking down from the sky to the sea. It always seemed to Jason that the sea was crawling. The motor throbbed, vibrating the plane as he corrected his course. He checked out the position of the rest of the squadron, knowing they would be wide ranging, not in perfect formation, for Hack Odom felt that flying in formation was for demonstrations at air shows back home. “Scatter out,” he always said. “If you’re flying a foot from my wing tip, you’ve got to think about not wrecking me. Just stay close enough where you can pull back, but every man looks for those flat tops.”

  “Right down below us” came a voice over the radio. “There’s that flat top!” Instantly both Jason and Morrison craned their necks to look down. “There she is, sir—and there come them pesky Zeros. They’ve seen us!”

  “Where’s our fighter cover, I wonder?” Jason shouted over the roar of the engine.

  “I reckon they’ve got to someplace else. What are we waitin’ for?”

  The squadron l
eader had radioed back to the carrier for more dive bombers. He had urged every bomber to come at once, for he had identified the ship as the Shoho, and shortly afterward they sited another one, the Zuikaku.

  Another squadron quickly arrived on the scene and immediately joined the attack on the two carriers.

  “Why don’t we go in, Lieutenant?” Morrison yelled.

  “I don’t know, but keep your eye out.”

  Odom’s squadron had to dodge the Japanese Zeros that came swarming after them. Morrison’s gun rattled, and almost immediately he sent one Zero in a twisting, spiraling dive toward the earth, black smoke rising from his engine. “I got him!”

  “You sure did, Tex.”

  There was no time for more talk. The battle was fierce. The Zeros were absolutely determined that the bombers would not drop down, and two of Odom’s squadron were hit hard. One of them lost control and went down.

  It was one of those days when it seemed the dive bombers could not hit the target. Bomb after bomb fell to the port or the starboard side of the twisting Japanese carrier. Odom’s bomb missed, and they could hear him cursing over the radio.

  “Moran, can you hear me?” he asked over the radio.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I kept you until last. You’re the best shot. You’ve got to put your egg right down the stack of that carrier. You’re the only hope we’ve got, son.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Even as Jason spoke, suddenly a blinding flash of pain rushed through him. His Plexiglas canopy was shattered, and he got a brief glimpse of a Zero as it zipped by.

  “Get him, Tex!” he yelled. His own blood was splattered all over the cockpit. He was hit in the torso and in the leg. He twisted around and saw Mack Morrison slumped lifelessly behind him, riddled by bullets. “Mack!” he cried out, but he knew it was hopeless.

  “Are you okay?” Odom’s voice crackled over the radio.

  “They got Tex, and I’ve taken a couple of bullets, but I’m able to fly.”

  “You can’t do it. All the Zeros have swarmed over the Shoho. Go on home. We’ll send another squadron,” Odom directed.