“Yes, please eat,” I repeat.
“So, Everett, I’ve been told your team has made some good headway with repairs this week. It was some much-needed relief to hear of your progress.”
I can hear the trouble Everett has swallowing the bite of food in his mouth. “Yes, Sir, we made a good dent, but we still have a way to go.”
“We’ll get there. I have faith,” Dad says, skating his gaze toward me. “Right, Elizabeth? That’s what your mother always said to us: ‘Faith is belief, and one should hold on to it dearly.’”
I’m not sure if Dad’s words should make me rethink my decision or if he is finally seeing the world through my eyes.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Everett says.
27
January 1942
About a month has passedsince the attack on Pearl. Life as we once knew it has yet to return to any sort of normalcy. I’m not sure it ever will ever feel quite the same.
I have been temporarily assisting at the Naval hospital, waiting on initial orders from the Army Nurse Corps. The enlisted men are all still working never-ending days to repair and replace the abundance of damage. I have been wondering if they might be luckier than the rest of us on base with so much work to focus on. The busier we are, the less time there is to think about what is happening to the world.
Each day, I take a bagged lunch to the shaded area down the street to relieve my head of the commotion inside the hospital. Unfortunately, I can’t escape the noises that haunt me the most because they live within my mind. If I could plug my ears to make the explosions and cries stop, I would, but I’d still see the horrific images playing before my eyes. There is nowhere to look without a reminder of the attack.
Even after a month, the shrapnel is still in piles within the grass, beneath the curbs, and even on roofs. The worst visual is watching mothers and children walk by with gas masks dangling from their hands. The military has issued all of us protective gear in case there is another air raid or poison gas attack. To witness a drill is like taking a blow to the stomach, and it makes me question how life can have so little meaning.
The military oversees everything in the state of Hawaii. Our freedom that we have enjoyed feels like a distant memory, and though it’s for our protection, many of us silently feel like prisoners in the place we call home. I want to wake up and find this all to have been a nightmare, but when I open my eyes each morning, I realize that the time I spend asleep is my only escape.
Saturdays are like every other day of the week now, but we all sleep in for an extra hour in the morning. Today might be an exception, however, because Dad is having an indiscreet conversation on the telephone. It’s rare to hear him speaking so loudly to anyone, never mind this early in the day. My silk French robe, a hand-me-down from Mom that Dad brought her after returning from Europe during the first World War, is hanging over the upholstered armchair within reach. I wrap myself up snuggly, protecting my warm skin from the mild draft whirling around. Once my feet are snug within my house slippers, I tip-toe down the hallway to listen in on the conversation Dad is doing little to hide.
“Yes, Captain, I agree and understand. Of course, the timing isn’t favorable for either of us. However, I agree Lieutenant Anderson is the best candidate for this position. I will meet with the colonel today to discuss this transition.”
Silence bears its heaviness as I wait to hear what Dad says next. “We saw the paratrooper demonstration a couple months ago. It was a phenomenal demonstration, Captain. In fact, I was watching along with Lieutenant Anderson. The display had him quite enamored, in fact. I’m sure Georgia will suit him well too.”
My mouth falls ajar, baffled by the discussion. Of all the men on base, I can’t understand why Everett would be a topic of conversation with any captain. I know we both understood the probability of deployments, but he’s going to be moved, and I can’t help but wonder if Dad has something to do with this, or why he would do such a thing.
I flee from the door as the phone call ends with the sound of the receiver clapping with a ding against receiver. With silent movements, I close myself into my bedroom, pondering how I can warn Everett before the colonel approaches him. I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping and I have no right interfering, but this feels like the beginning to a very long uphill road ahead—one he might want a say in. Though I’m not ignorant to the way orders come in, this situation feels unusual.
With eagerness rushing through my body, I find fresh clothes and smooth out the bed-worn imperfections in my hair. I look simply exhausted, but there isn’t a person living within a ten-mile radius who doesn’t appear as weary.
In less than ten minutes, I’m out of the house, lifting the kickstand from my bicycle. I spot Audrey outside, picking weeds from their front garden. I must be quick with my hello. There still seems to be a bit of tension between us, but I can say the same with my family as well. No one understands my decision for enlisting, and we have all agreed to disagree.
I slowly crawl to a stop in front of her driveway, hearing the squeal of my brakes, which reminds me to grease the gears later this afternoon.
“Where are you off so early this morning?” Audrey calls out, her hand cupped over her eyes to shield away the sun.
“Oh, I have to talk to Everett before he reports to duty this morning. It’s nothing important.”
“You have the afternoon free, don’t you?”
It’s the first Saturday I have had any free time over the last month. “I do. How about yourself?”
“Surprisingly, yes, I do too. I was wondering if you would like to come over for some tea today?”
“I’d like that, yes. What time shall we say?”
“How about a bit after noon?”
“I’ll be here,” I confirm.
“Wonderful, ride safely,” she calls out with a wave.
