“Wake up. Wake up! Come on! They’re leaving!” I open my eyes to see the face of my little sister staring at me. As my vision focuses, I can make out a toothy smile on her face as she proceeds to jump on my bed. I roll over so that I face away from her and I try to fall back asleep. It doesn’t work. It’s not long before I feel a weight on my back. It’s my sister. She is attempting to pull me out of my bed, but I won’t give.

“Come on! Wake up, Judy!” she says, excitement rushing through her vocal cords. Suddenly a realization hits me. I snap open my eyes and sit up abruptly, almost hitting her.

“Is today what I think it is?” I ask as I catch on to her excitement. She gives me a big nod and a goofy smile.

“Well then, let’s go!” I say as I jump out of bed and grab her hand. We race down the stairs and towards the pastel colored kitchen. I can hear my brother and father laughing as we round the staircase.

“What flavor cake do you want?” I hear my mom ask my brother as we burst through the swinging door. My older brother turns to see me and smiles. His hazel eyes dance in the light as a perfect smile spreads across his face. His hair sways a little in the Hawaiian breeze that is coming through our screen door. My sister and I steal a quick glance before charging at him for a hug.

“Happy birthday, John!” my little sister squeals as we embrace him. I am almost his height. He is beating me by only three inches.

“Thanks, you guys!” he says as he smiles. He kneels on the ground and holds my sister’s chin in his right hand as he asks, “So, Ruth, what should my birthday cake be?”

“CHOCOLATE!” she shouts, with excitement buzzing through her eyes. He chuckles as he turns to my mother.

“Well, there you have it! Chocolate it is!” my brother tells my mother, who is beating eggs in a bowl. Father puts his arm around John as he speaks.

“Eighteen years old! My son is eighteen! And on his way to the Naval Academy! I have no doubt that you’ll get in!” My dad is glowing. I have never seen him happier. We all laugh, even my mother, who is attempting to turn on the stove.

“Here, Mom, let me.” John quickly takes the pan with the egg yolks out of Mom’s hand as he lights the gas in the stove. “There you go. You know we really oughta buy a new stove. I hear the electric ones are gre–” As he speaks, a stray flame climbs through the air and is met by his hand. He quickly jerks it away as he exclaims, “OW!” He holds his hand close to his chest as my mother rushes over to him.

“Oh! John! I am so sorry! I should have just lit the stove myself! Here, let me see.” She tentatively grabs his hand and examines it.

As she does so, John says, “Sorry for shouting. It really isn't that bad. It was just alarming.” His skin is slightly red around the area that burned, but it is not too bad.

“I will decide that for you, mister! Don’t forget that I am a naval nurse!” She grabs some gauze from the cupboard and wraps a thin layer around the wound. John slightly winces but tries to hide the pain.

“Come on, John,” my dad says as he looks at his watch. “It’s twenty to eight and we still need to get to the school for your SAT testing! We’ll be back in time for Church!” And with that they rush out the door, not even eating breakfast or saying goodbye.

I plop down at our wicker table with a glass of orange juice in front of me. My mother slides two over easy eggs onto my plate, my favorite. “Thank you,” I say as I dig in. My little sister starts munching on a toasted English muffin. My mom serves herself and sits in between us. It has been so nice moving over here. My mother would never have sat with us for breakfast back at the old base. There must be something about Hawaii.

“My children are growing up so fast! I mean, John is 18 today and you just turned 14 a couple months ago. And you, Ruth! You are turning nine in February!” My mother speaks with happiness but also a little sadness. As if she misses us being children.

“Why are Judy and John so much older than I am? I’m so young! I hate it!” my sister exclaims as a small smile inches its way up my mother’s face.

“Cherish your youth. That’s all I have to say.” Mom and I share a chuckle as Ruth continues to look confused and annoyed. We finish our meal in silence, enjoying the touch of the sun on our skin, which is seeping through the window above the sink. Ruth clears the table as Mother and I rinse and dry the plates. I go to put away the food and as I pick up the egg carton, I notice it seems very light. I open it up and find that it is empty.

“Mother, we are out of eggs.” My mother’s face sinks for a second. She still needs some for the cake.

“What’s wrong?” my little sister asks. “We can just buy more.” She speaks so naively. She is so unaware of things at times.

“Well, you heard her. I mean you can’t make a cake without eggs, right?” With shaky hands, my mother pulls out the last of the change in her pocket book and hands it to me. The depression hit us hard, being military and all. But we try not to talk about it.

“Go get changed and you can head to the commissary,” and with that I leave the kitchen.

*****

I come down the dark wooden stairs in my pink dress that I got for Christmas. It’s one of the only new things in my closet. It’s paired with my newly shined Mary Janes. I put the change in my pocket as I lead my sister outside. We start down our street, which is encased in palm trees. I check my watch: 7:50 A.M. As we turn the corner to get to the commissary, I see a little Japanese boy whom I babysit from time to time.

“Aloha, Hiroshi!” I shout towards him. He is playing with some plastic naval boats that he must have bought from the gift shop. He pushes them under the water, then brings them back up again only to sink them once more. He turns around when he hears his name and waves. He’s four years old and is one of the cutest toddlers I have seen. We take one last turn and find ourselves in the main square. In front of us is the Pearl Harbor lagoon, buzzing with people rushing around their boats, getting them ready for the day. The commissary is to our right and the hospital to our left. Ruth and I step into the nice, cool breeze escaping from a big fan that is propped right inside of the entrance.

The size of the commissary always startles me no matter how often I come. I walk over to the long plaque on the wall with all the different stores on it. I find that the grocery store is on the first level, along with the bakery and the deli. As we enter the store, I search the aisle signs to help me find the eggs. I find them and quickly head to aisle four. I want to get back home soon because I have a lot of school work to finish. We are studying The Great War. A boy in my class claims that we could easily have a second one, but I think he’s crazy. Why would we ever join another World War? I pick up a container of eggs and head to the checkout. I give the eggs to the cashier and notice that it’s Virginia, John’s girlfriend.

“Aloha, Judy!” she says to me with a big smile on her face.

“Aloha, Virginia!” my little sister shouts from below the counter. She’s still not tall enough to be able to see over it.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there, Ruth! Sorry!” She speaks charismatically, making you feel like you have been best friends your whole life. “So,” she says, “what brings you here?”

“We ran out of eggs for John’s birthday cake so we just ran down here for some more. You’re coming to dinner, right?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it even if the sky were on fire!” We laugh at her joke as I give her the needed amount. She bags the eggs and hands them to Ruth.

“Well, bye now! See you tonight!” We wave goodbye and head towards the exit. BOOM! All of a sudden the store shakes. What was that? I think to myself. Before I know it, Virginia is rushing out the door and signaling us to follow. We step outside to see planes zipping around above us. Virginia gasps and then takes off running towards her house. Ruth drops the eggs as we stand there looking at the sky above us. The recognizable rising suns emblems are almost shining on their metal planes. It’s the Japanese. Bombs start falling on the boats.The bombs look like fireworks going off as they fall on the ships, only they bring destruction instead of joy. I am in awe. I just can’t believe what’s happening. Then I see the USS Oklahoma begin to sink. I can’t think. I feel like I am going to faint. Ruth begins to cry, and I hold her close to me. BOOM! Another bomb hits. The boat wails in pain as she begins to slip under the water. Bullets begin to fly down one of the streets in the distance, plucking off humans one by one and hurdling them into the cold arms of death.

“Come on Ruth. Let’s go home!” We begin to run towards our street but then the Japs stop us. Planes begin to zip down our way home, machine gunning everything in their path. And I just stop. I can’t handle it. I just fall onto the ground and watch the scene around me. What is happening? Why is this happening? I turn around and look at the place where the USS Oklahoma use to be. It’s under water. I see a line of dead soldiers on the ground and more injured soldiers being pulled out of the boats. The flames given to us by the Japs are reaching out with their greedy hands, trying to claim more lives. All of a sudden I feel a firm grasp on my shoulder. I turn my head to find a naval man ushering me and Ruth back into the commissary. I grab Ruth’s hand and start to run towards the doors. I look around me, taking in the scene. Young men are furiously attempting to cut holes in the side of the sunken ships to save some men. I see bodies being dragged out of the wreckage as more young men race inside. We sit in the commissary, huddled behind the big stone wall. I hold Ruth in my arms as we sit there, listening to the whistle of the bombs. Ruth begins to cry, and I try to soothe her, but it’s no use. How can I soothe Ruth if I can’t even calm myself? We sit huddled together for a while, I’m not sure how long. We begin to think that the attack is coming to an end when we see a line of planes arriving from the other side of the island, bringing even more destruction in their wake. I peer out the window to see what’s happening when my wandering eyes fall upon a line. One I’ve seen before. It’s a line of people. Dead people. Soldiers and civilians alike. Alongside them, more injured men are being dragged out of the boats as nurses and doctors are running around, desperately trying to help people. There is a mix of sea men and civilians being wheeled into the hospital. One of them is John. John? John! I jump up from where I am sitting and burst out the doors of the commissary, with Ruth chasing after me.

I run towards my brother as he lies on a gurney. His skin is red and beginning to blister. All I hear are the groans of the injured men and the falling of bombs. I see the planes with the rising suns zipping around above me, not even considering the fact that innocent people are dying. All of a sudden my brother's hand reaches out and grabs me.

“Judy,” he croaks “Judy.”

“John. John! Hey John! I’m here, John. See, it’s me!” I jumble my words together in panic. I can see tears in his eyes.

“Judy,” he manages out as a smile moves across his face. “I need to go back to my test!” His breath starts to slow. I nod with tears brimming on my eyelids. “I was sitting there when it happened!” He speaks softly. Then a terrified look spreads over his face. “The bombs, Judy! Oh! The bomb!”

“Oh, John,” I say worryingly. Before I can keep comforting him, he interrupts.

“There was so much fire, Judy. They were machine gunning the streets! I was looking around trying to find people. And then I saw Dad. He was coming out of the commissary with a soda. He started walking down the street when a stray bullet hit him. Oh my god. Dad’s dead. He’s dead!” His voice breaks as tears stream down his face. “I ran over to him but he was already dying. I was so scared. Too scared to save him. And there was so much blood, Judy. His shirt was drenched in it. If I had just called over a doctor maybe he would have lived. I failed him, Judy. I failed Dad! Oh, why didn’t I just call over a doctor?” He breathes once more, then goes slack, his face still stained with tears.

“John! John! Come on, John! You can’t do this to me, John!” I start to panic. What do I do? What do I do? I start to shout his name, “JOHN! JOHN!” A doctor pushes me out of the way as he checks John’s pulse.

“He’s dead,” he says solemnly.

“No, no,” I whisper. I grab hold of John and start to shake him. He doesn’t move. “John. Oh, John. Come on. I need you, John. I need you!” I whisper to him as I bury my face into his chest. Tears are streaming down my face as I shake. Just hold me, John, like you use to when I was little. Just hold me one more time. A doctor pulls me away from him and I squirm in his arms, trying to escape.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but he is dead. There is nothing more we can do. I need you to go now,” he says. He is the same one who took John’s pulse. He speaks with a sickly calm voice. What is with doctors and their calm voices? It’s always the same voice. They use it when they announce the beginning of a new life and the ending of an old one. And he is using it now, with John. As if he thinks it will help to mend my broken heart.

“No! NO! YOU ARE WRONG! HE IS NOT DEAD! HE CAN’T BE DEAD!” I scream. The doctor picks me up and moves me away. He puts me against the wall and works on some more patients as the nurses put a sheet over John’s body and wheel him away. I crumble onto the floor and break down. Tears are streaming down my cheeks as I shake. My little sister stands by me. She looks scared.

“Where’s Dad, Judy? What happened to John?” she asks, her words soaked in fear.

“They’re dead. They're both dead and I couldn't do anything to stop it.” My voice breaks as I force out the words. I collapse in on myself as the world begins to spin. And I cry. I cry even though nothing will help me to escape the pain. If only things were as simple as they were back in San Diego...

*****

“Come on! Come on, let’s go!” my mother shouted at me from the bottom of the stairs. I was throwing my toothbrush, hairbrush, and book into my carry-on and struggling to get my luggage out the door.

“COME ON! WE ARE GOING TO MISS OUR FLIGHT!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I said as I ran down the stairs. We all piled in the car as my dad started the engine. As we pulled out of the driveway, I took one last look at our house. The rain fell on the red tin roof, making little puddles in the waves of the metal. Goodbye, I thought. Goodbye, San Diego.

*****

I jolt back to the present with a shake. I open my eyes to see a military person with his hands around me.

“Wha--?” I ask, but I am cut off by the man.

“You have to go. Head up to those hills over there. You will find a car that will take you away to a nearby town. Now go!” I slowly stand up and quickly scan around me for Ruth. She is standing next to me, her eyes filled with fear. The rising suns are still zipping around above me, with their never ending bombs. I grab my sister’s hand and begin to stagger down the street. My legs feel like jelly as I look at the dead on the ground. These were people’s brothers. Now they are simply bodies.

I see the harbor to my right. What was once a calm little lagoon that housed pearls is now a site of battle. The boys on the ship are loading up the tracker bullets as they aim their weapons at the planes above. Boys. That’s all they are. Just boys. Not much older than John is. Was. The hill is still intact and peaceful, but not for long. I begin to run with Ruth in tow. She starts to whimper and I know that she soon will give out on me. In one scoop I put her on my back and force my legs to move.

We make it to the top of the hill in fifteen minutes and I’m ready to pass out. I look around and see a truck parked on the road. A native Hawaiian steps out of the driver’s door and ushers us inside. There are some other people inside the car already. There is only enough room for us.

“That’s all I can take. Be back in twenty minutes,” I hear the man tell one of the officers on the hill.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” I ask the man. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to a nearby town. Get you out of here and to safety.“

“For how long?” I ask with nervousness dripping on every word.

“I don’t know. Two, maybe three weeks. Depends on if they plan on coming back. Might even be a month or so.” As he speaks he starts to turn on the engine. A month!

“But our mom is still at home,” my little sister says. The man doesn’t answer. He starts driving down the hill and away from the harbor.

“Don’t worry, Ruth,” I say. “I’m sure she is at the village we’re going to already.” I share a glance with the driver, both of us thinking the same thing. What are the odds that she is still alive?


Two Weeks Later

We pull back up the hill towards the harbor in an old pickup truck. The man hasn’t spoken to us the whole drive. We park and I help Ruth out of the car. She has grown up so much these last two weeks. I close my eyes as I try to forget my experience there. The crying mothers trying to find their children and the families torn apart by death. I remember the nights when Ruth and I would stay up together, crying into each other’s arms. I shake the memories from my head as I turn around to face the city. As I look over the once beautiful harbor, I see a figure running up the hill. It’s a woman. A familiar woman. It’s my mother.

“Mom?” I gasp as I start to run towards her. We embrace in a hug, even Ruth. I check my watch. 8:50 A.M. I hear the church bells chime in the distance.

“Is the reverend still… you know,” I stammer. She nods.

“They’re holding a special service today. For the people who…who…” Her voice cracks as she begins to cry. I nod and put my hand on my mother’s shoulder. She shouldn’t have to say it. No one should. She pulls herself together and continues, “You're here just in time.” My mother chokes back tears as she speaks in a shaky voice. “I buried them last week. Both of them. Your father and brother were buried together. They both had a military service. The Navy knew that John was applying to the academy. I buried him with his recommendation letter from his father.” I touch her shoulder but I can’t help but cry. Mother continues to talk: “Virginia was there. She stayed with me the night of the attack. She said that she promised to celebrate John’s birthday with us and that’s what she did. ‘Not even a sky on fire could stop me,’ I think she said. She was always good to John.” I think back to when I saw her in the commissary. Before the attack. Before John died.

“I. I was there. When it happened,” I sob. “I heard his last words, Mom. He told me-- he told me that he saw-- that he saw Dad die. And he blamed himself, Mom. John died feeling guilty.” I begin to cry, and my mother holds me in her arms.

“Do you want to go to the service?” she asks. “Go to church with them like they promised? Just be with them one last time. Before we have to say our final goodbye.” I nod and we start to walk down the hill, towards the church.

“Yeah. That sounds good,” I lament. “I’ll say goodbye to them one last time.”