The words pouring from Everett’s mouth emit in muddled howls, stinging my ears as he flags down one of the smaller vessels sailing toward us. A high-pitched scream in the distance pulls my attention away from the incoming vessel and out into the inky blazing waters. Arms flail. “So many of them are in the water. They are burning to their death,” I say. I’m not sure if Everett hears me or has already seen what I’m witnessing, but he lowers me into the vessel as if I am a rag doll—a sailor taking me from Everett’s grip. “Are you a civilian?” The man’s words are clearer than anything else I’ve heard in the last few minutes.
“She’s a nurse,” Everett shouts from behind me, stepping into the boat. “Take her to the USS Solace. I’ll help you pull bodies.”
There isn’t time for a formal introduction before the man grabs Everett’s fist and helps him down onto the bilge of the vessel. “Billy Albert, Seaman First Class.” Soot masks Billy’s face and blonde sprigs of hair poke through the ashy layer of debris on his head. The whites of his eyes and the storm blue hues of his irises are all there is to see within the dark shadows of death cloaking his body.
“Everett Anderson, Lieutenant, Air Corps. This is Elizabeth Salzberg, Commander Salzberg’s daughter.” Their conversation is occurring as if we’re standing on a sidewalk on a brilliant sunny day, rather than in a place where we should take cover from the bombers still flying above our heads. The thoughts of where Dad, James, and Lewis are burn through every blood vessel of my brain. Dad wouldn’t have been on base at this hour on a Sunday, but he would receive a call at the first sight of the air raid. I don’t know if there was enough time for him to make it to Ford Island. I pray there wasn’t enough time. The last thing I said to him was, “… how can you be so petulant and rude …” I will forever have to live with those horrible words spoken out of anger.
“I was on my way back to the ship when I heard the dive bombers coming for us. Before I knew it, I was asking myself why God would spare me after going home with this broad I met at the pub last night. I don’t even know the girl’s name, Anderson,” Billy says with a choky laugh. How could he be carrying on a conversation like this right now? I can only assume he’s in a state of shock.
Everett doesn’t appear to be listening to what the guy is saying, but if he’s a Seaman First Class, he might have seen Dad.
“Have you seen Commander Salzberg,” I ask.
“Your old man?” Billy responds.
“I heard him over the radio before I took this vessel out to collect bodies.”
The relief is slight, but it’s substantial enough to allow some adrenaline to pump into my blood. I pray he kept James and Lewis safe, wherever they are.
Everett rests his hand on my knee and squeezes. “He’s okay.”
The men screaming for their lives in the water are not. “There’s no time to drop me off at Solace. Let’s grab some of these men,” I say, leaning over the side. The heat raging from the bordering waters feels like a hot flash from diesel pluming out of the tailpipe of an old car.
“We won’t be able to fit more than a few men into this lifeboat.” How do we choose one life over another? There are so many men begging for help.
I wish the word “help” didn’t have to sound like a breathless plea when the smog filled air is all that is keeping them alive and there doesn’t seem to be enough to fill everyone’s lungs.
Cries of pain sear through my blood as we reach the first oil-covered sailor. The grease is so thick I can’t tell if he’s wearing clothes or if the flames have burnt them off his body.
We reach for one of his two hands and pull him over the rim of the boat. “You’re going to be okay,” I say, pulling the sweater off my shoulders. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” It’s always the eyes that tell the story. Why does it have to be the one part of him I can see?
He’s asking me a world of questions but hasn’t moved his mouth since we dragged him into the boat. This look, the wide eyes searching mine for answers, the dilated pupils, and heavy breaths tell me there are significant injuries. “Freddy,” he mumbles through gritted teeth.
“Freddy, can you tell me what hurts?” The more I inspect this man, the clearer I can see the breadth of damage to his skin. The oil is all he has protecting him, but it is also scorching and eating through every inch of his body.
“Everything,” he mutters through a ferocious groan. If I touch him, it will feel like a thousand knives piercing his flesh and I don’t have a stitch of medication to numb the pain.
“We’re taking you to the USS Solace. We’ll get you something for the pain as soon as we arrive. Do you want to squeeze my hand, Freddy?”
The screams of the next person we are heading to save grows louder than my voice. Freddy doesn’t immediately respond, but as Everett and Billy are pulling in another body, Freddy takes my hand and squeezes with a weak grip. His hand is burning within mine and he clenches his eyes closed, crying tears from pain and fear.
“I don’t want to die, Miss.”
“Shh, no one is going anywhere. We’re going to take care of you.” Am I lying to this dying man? Is this what he should hear minutes before finding death? Fear is worse than pain, I know this. He needs hope to hold on to. “Freddy, can you tell me about your family? Do you have any sisters or brothers?”
With twitch-like movements, he nods his head. “A brother, Sam, and he’s on the ship.”
He’s on the ship. The Arizona nearly submerged. “The Arizona?”
“Yes, Miss,” he says, his words hard to hear as another wave of bomber planes dive over us.
“What about your parents?”
“Martha and Joe. We—we came from Texas. Just a small family and farm.” Freddy’s eyes roll from side to side as if confusion is setting in. “Where’s Sam?” he cries out through agonizing gasps.
“Lizzie, we need you over here,” Everett shouts while pressing his hands into a body’s chest.
“Freddy, I’m going to ask you to hold on to my sweater for a minute while I go help another sailor out. I’ll be right back.”
