THE DAY OF INFAMY REVISITED
By CJ Wells

In the summer of 1996, for two very diverse reasons, I decided to take a course at the Oklahoma State University extension campus in Oklahoma City. I was going to become a travel agent.

My first reason was brought about by the experience my husband and I had booking our first cruise. The agent we used was difficult to contact and less than helpful when she did return my call. I ended up having to do most of the work and decided I could do a much better job and might as well get paid for it. The second reason was much more personal. For the last twenty-one years, I had gained several new titles. I became a wife, a mother, and a business partner with my husband. Although I cherished all of them, somewhere along the way I had lost myself. So, back to school I went to start a new career.

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I called my husband the last night of class. I impatiently held my cell phone to my ear as it rang once…twice…three times, before he finally answered. I barely gave him time to say hello before I yelled. “I passed!”

In his normal laid-back, calm manner my husband remarked, “I knew you would, but congratulations!”

In my normal over-excited manor, I replied, “Meet me at Nino’s, (one of our favorite Mexican restaurants) and we’ll celebrate.”

At dinner we discussed the internship I would be starting the next week. It was at a fast-paced well respected travel agency, and if all went well, the internship would turn into full time employment. During this conversation I asked my husband, “if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you choose.” Without hesitation he said, “Hawaii.”

The internship did become a full time, paying position. It was hard work, and boy, did I have a lot to learn! On particularly stressful days, I would wish I could go to sleep and wake up six months later, already having learned enough to feel like my feet were securely under me. That, of course did not happen, so the next six months slowly passed, as I improved my skill and my confidence.

The nineties were a wonderful time to be a travel agent. We attended monthly trade shows where free trips were given away, and received numerous contests through the mail. I won five trips in one year! I’m sorry to say that agents travel perks are a thing of the past, going the way of Pan Am and TWA.

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May the sixteenth 1997 started out like any other work day. The only difference was it happened to be my husband’s birthday. I arrived at my office, said good morning to everyone, and took a seat at my desk. My manager was sorting the pile of mail covering her desk. She handed me a large white envelope with the American Airlines logo on it. I opened it assuming it was another contest to enter, but when I pulled out the cover letter the first word I saw was “Congratulations.” The envelope contained round trip airfare and a three night hotel stay on the island of Oahu, Hawaii for myself and a guest. I must have read that letter five times before I believed it. My first call was to my husband, telling him happy birthday and guess where we’re going?

Once our excitement calmed down and we had a chance to start planning our trip, we decided if we were going all the way to Hawaii we should stay longer than three days. So, with the help of my travel agent discount, I booked a seven day cruise on American Hawaii Cruises.

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We arrived in Hawaii on December third, 1997. We stayed at a small boutique hotel across the street from Waikiki Beach. For the next three days, we did all the touristy things. We took a picture standing with the statue of Duke Kahanamoku on Waikiki Beach, visited the Dole pineapple plantation and my personal favorite, we took a tour of the USS Arizona Memorial in Pearl Harbor.

The memorial was awe inspiring. It was sad and melancholy, and made you proud to be an American. The most amazing part was how respectful everyone was, from the oldest adult to the smallest child. If people spoke, they spoke in whispers. Every American should put the memorial on their bucket list.

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On December sixth we boarded the SS Independence. She was sleek with beautiful wooden decks, much more like a large yacht than the mega-sized cruise ships of today. Launching in 1951, the Independence carried less than a thousand passengers. Her historic manifest showed many elite passengers including Princess Grace of Monaco, John Wayne, and President Harry S. Truman, just to name a few. Her identical sister ship, the SS Constitution, was featured in the movie “An Affair to Remember.”

I have a love of history, so I enjoyed exploring every inch of the ship and reading her fascinating chronicle.

Our first day at sea, we sailed around the island of Oahu. It looked amazingly different from the ship than it did ashore, but beautiful either way.

The next morning the captain made an announcement. Permission had been granted to the ship to sail into Pearl Harbor for a ceremony at the USS Arizona Memorial. He and his crew were honored to have aboard veterans and spouses of veterans of the USS Arizona, who would be carrying out the ceremony.

In all the excitement of the last few days I had completely forgotten that the day was December seventh, the day that would live in infamy. My bookcases were filled with books about every aspect of World War Two and now here I was, standing on the deck of a ship sailing into Pearl Harbor on December seventh, an unbelievable adventure.

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The brand new Ford Island Bridge slowly retracted, making an opening just large enough for the ship to sail into Pearl Harbor.

My husband and I stood on deck taking in the events unfolding before us. A woman walked up beside me, placing her hands on the rail. She looked to be in her late sixties to early seventies. Greeting each other with, “good morning,” we began to talk about how fortunate it was that we were given permission to enter Pearl Harbor. As our conversation progressed, I learned she was the widow of a USS Arizona veteran, and had been invited to take part in the ceremony. The only problem was, they would not know if permission had been granted until the morning of the seventh. It was a relief to her that she had not made the trip in vain. She continued to explain how horrible this day in 1941 had been, and how she felt the movies had romanticized what had been the worst day of her life. Her husband had survived, but so many of their friends had died. She looked out across the water as she spoke. I realized she had forgotten I was there, her mind transporting her back to fifty-six years ago. I saw the sadness fill her eyes and heard anger creep into the inflection of her words.

My grandfather had inspired my interest in the war. He fought in Europe, receiving several medals including a Purple Heart. I was the only one in the family he would talk to about his time in the army. The sadness that filled my grandfather’s eyes during our conversations mirrored the woman’s eyes I was now looking in to as she continued her epic saga.

My eyes filled with tears as she graphically described her experience and the absolute terror she endured waiting for news of her husband. Word eventually came that her husband was unharmed, she was elated. The elation was short lived as the list of friends that had been lost grew by the minute. I wondered if I would have had her strength and endurance.

The woman smiled and silently walked away as the ship sailed alongside the memorial, and the captain requested the veterans and spouses move to the back of the ship. I glanced at my husband as I whipped away my tears. I was not surprised to see him drying his own eyes.

The captain handed several large floral wreaths to the assembled group. He saluted and spoke words of remembrance as the wreaths were tossed into the water. I doubt I will ever again observe a more moving moment. When all the wreaths had reached the water they floated gently across the waves observed by the silent and reverent ship. The memorial was to our left at the back of the ship, unnoticed until the ceremony ended, a black submarine had surfaced on the far side. A wreath hung on the periscope housing, the top lined by the crew standing at attention and saluting. Above their heads was a beautiful rainbow with a jet flying through it. For me, it was a clear indication that God’s hand had touched the remembrance.

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This was a once in a life time occurrence, one I will always treasure. My one regret is I never knew the name of the woman who told me her story on the deck of the ship that day. I looked for her, but did not see her again during the cruise. She will never know how much her story meant to me, how she had tattooed a vivid eternal memory in my mind.

Impressum

Texte: CJ Wells
Lektorat: Valerie Byron
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 13.05.2012

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