The low rumble that terrorized Everett was many more miles away than we were from the base. Even with the car’s engine running, the rumble is amplifying and growing into an eruption. The earth is quaking from the sky, and the shuddering movements, accompanied by piercing whistles and baritone thumps, vibrate through every limb of my body.
The instant I spot a cluster of low-flying aircraft gliding along the horizon, I shout with every ounce of strength I have. “Everett, are those warplanes?” My question feels so innocent compared to the bewilderment fleeting through his wildly flashing eyes.
“Yes, they are,” Everett shouts, taking my hand within his. “I’m not sure what they’re doing, or who these people are, flying over Pearl like this.”
I’ve never seen a foreign plane hovering so low over the water before. As if the distance between the horizon and the spot we’re standing is only a hundred yards, the planes gain speed and skim the low bearing clouds above us.
“Everett—” I try to point at the symbol below the planes’ wings, but I must cover my eyes from the debris whipping around us.
“Japanese aircraft,” he shouts.
The red sun, the vivid blood-red matching circles beneath each wing mark their presence without a doubt. The squeal and whine stab like knives into my ears as I struggle to glance up at Everett, waiting for a reaction, information, or a plan because I don’t understand what’s happening.
“What should we do?” I yell, but I’m sure Everett cannot hear my voice over the roar.
Everett closes his eyes, grabs my hand, and he mumbles through the words:
“Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee …”
He’s praying. I believe he’s begging for our mercy.
For mercy, from whatever is about to happen.
Dad spent nights praying for Mom to pull through toward the end of her illness. I can recall the words:
“She-ma Yisrael, Adonai eloheinu, Adonai echad; Hear Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One”—a plea for protection. It didn’t work then. Please, God, help us now.
Smoke rises and falls from every direction as the earth shatters beneath our feet, tossing us to our knees. Everett lunges on top of me, pulling me into a ditch beneath the flat surface of land. His body is covering mine, and it’s hard to breathe. I want to cry and scream out, but for what? He’s helping me in the only way he can, by shielding my body ... “Everett,” I groan through the muffled weight.
“Lizzie, I have to get you out of here,” he shouts.
He pulls me from the ditch, holding his arms around me so tightly, I’m unable to panic as much as I feel the need. “What’s happening?” I cry out.
“We’re under—”
I can’t hear a thing over the roaring shrills above.
Everett tugs me toward the car, and I push myself to move quicker, so he doesn’t have to worry about me lagging. “I’m bringing you home, Lizzie. You need to find a safe place. Do you understand?” His shouts are thunderous, but I can only see his lips moving, and the horror reeling through his eyes. His words float in the wind on ear-piercing bursts of sound.
“No, Everett. No! I’m not going home. I need to help. Take me with you.”
“The entire air base is under attack, Lizzie. I’m not bringing you down there.”
“My father and brothers are probably heading to the shipyard now if they aren’t already there. What if they were hit? I cannot go home, Everett. Do not bring me there,” I demand.
Everett slams his palms against the steering wheel as sweat trickles down between the swollen veins of his neck. “Elizabeth,” he grits out.
“Don’t say it, Everett. Don’t.”
“You need to understand, I love you, and if anything happens, I won’t—I don’t know what to do.”
“I will not sit at home while our base is under attack, Everett. I’m a trained medical professional, and I need to help. You must listen. I love you, too, but neither of us is safe no matter where we go or what we do.”
Everett doesn’t continue arguing, and I can tell by the direction he’s driving, he’s no longer heading to my house. The sirens grow louder along with the shattering metallic pings shooting through my nerves. The destruction isn’t ending, and the attack is growing louder and larger by the second. Though it feels like hours have gone by since we spotted the first plane, it’s hardly been fifteen minutes as we pull into the Naval shipyard.
We dash out of the car from our respective sides, meeting in front, watching the surreal scene playing out before us. People are running—running for their lives. Soldiers, Sailors, and Nurses are scattering in every direction as if blindfolded.
I don’t know whether to run and hide or join the force of help. Panic is consuming my body. By instinct, I believe I should find safety, but with a sense of defiance in my genes, and strength will not allow me to sit back and watch.
