The Yorktown

John was just 16 years old when he, like so many young men in December 1941, raised his right hand and joined the Navy. He just happened to be one who lied about his age to do it. His mother, as it turned out, didn't mind, just as she hadn't minded when his brother Will had signed up two years before. She might have cared more had she known all that John knew because John was the one to answer the door when they came. The two tall men in uniform brought nothing with them nothing but grief in a yellow envelope. John was tall and muscular for his age, easily able to pass for 20 thanks to a plethora of facial hair. When they came, John truthfully said he was the man of the house, which he was, with Will gone, and so they had handed him the dreaded telegram “on behalf of a grateful nation."

 

Willy was so proud when he was posted to the beautiful Pearl Harbor and assigned to a battleship. The Arizona wasn’t the biggest battleship, but Willy had assured John it was the best battleship in the world, or maybe he just said that to comfort Ma.

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Ma needed that comfort too. You see, John's mother was ill, very ill. The cancer was killing her slowly, painfully, but killing her nonetheless. John believed that was the real reason Willy had signed up for, so he would be able to pay the doctor and, in time, care for his kid brother. That was the reason Ma didn’t answer the door that fateful day or understand what the telegram even meant. It was also why John had no one to stop him, no one to talk to or help him consider his options.

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The Navy didn’t ask too many questions. America was at war and new recruits poured in to serve their country. All John had to do was to forge his mother’s signature; he knew they wouldn’t check. Within one week of receiving that fateful telegram, John raised his right hand, not knowing quite what was coming next, just knowing he’d make them pay for what they did to his brother. John left town that day surrounded by other young men answering Uncle Sam's call to action, no one knowing if they would ever see home again.

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John excelled at boot camp quickly becoming a leader among his shipmates.  He also acquired a nickname that would follow him throughout his military career, Heinz, because he was so sunburned, he looked like ketchup.

 

As an excellent sailor, often selected to leadership roles during training, it wasn’t a surprise when he assigned to one of the Navy’s aircraft carriers, the Yorktown, stationed in Pearl Harbor. Heinz was thrilled he wouldn’t be boarding the Yorktown alone; two of his buddies would be going with him, Method and Tempo. They’d met in boot camp and after the sergeants saw how well they worked together, they were together from that point on, all the way to the Yorktown.

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The three men stood at the dock. John’s eyes gazed at his ship, wondering how long they would be in port. Yorktown had just made port that morning, and repair crews were swarming all over her.

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“I bet we’re here for a while, guys. Looks like she’s seen some action.” Tempo looked at the Yorktown and then looked at Heinz, shaking his head.

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“I don’t know, buddy boy, but if youze asks me, I’d says they’re jumping to get her back out to see somethin’ fast. Maybe tomorrows even.”

 John took another long look and had to admit that Tempo had a point.

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It turned out Tempo had been spot on. Yorktown left port just 72 hours later. The crew was buzzing with ideas about where they were going, but it took almost 36 hours before the Captain announced that they were headed to the island of Midway. Navy intelligence thought that Japan would attack in the next few days, and they would be there too, to stop them in their tracks. The crew, having just fought the Japanese at Coral Sea was ready for a rematch. The rookies were understandably filled with eager apprehension.

 

June 4th, 1942

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Ma, I know you may never read this or even know what it means, but I want you to know I am safe and alive. I’m sorry for not writing you sooner or letting you know where I was going. You don’t need to worry about me now. Things have been real quiet recently out here. Just miles and miles of beautiful blue ocean as far as you can see. I wish you could see it, Ma. I remember how you talked about feeling close to God when you saw the sea, and I know now what you mean. I can’t tell you where we are headed, but I promise I’ll make you proud. I love you,Ma. Take care and I’ll be home real soon.

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Love,

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John

 

John had just finished sealing the letter when the klaxon startled him followed by the ExO's voice.

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“All hands, report to Battle Stations. Battle Stations! This is not a drill!”

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John felt a shock of adrenaline as he tucked the letter carefully under his pillow before sprinting out of the room and towards the flight deck. As he ran up the last set of stairs and out the hatch, the sun blinded as he ran towards his station. Somehow, Tempo was already there waiting for him.

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“Where’s Method?” Heinz yelled.

 “Don’t know.”

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The whole ship was in a state of frenzy—people running up and down the deck, working to get planes in the air and ammo to the guns. “There he is!” Tempo yelled out as he pointed across the deck. Sure enough, there he was sprinting across the deck in nothing but his tee shirt and boxers, pants slung over one shoulder and ammo boxes in both hands.

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“Sorry I’m late guys. Just my luck the Captain throws the switch right as I get in the shower,” Method joked as he threw the ammo down and finished putting his pants on, fumbling to fasten his belt.

 

Everyone was at their stations, eyes scanning they sky. All that could be heard was the buzz of planes taking off. Anticipation filled the ship. The nerves, the fear,  the whole ship was like a balloon ready to pop. Then, off to the east they saw the squadron of Japanese Zeros come peeking over the horizon, the rising sun at their backs. In that moment, the ship was dead quiet. Boom! The first gun on the deck fired and everything seemed to slide into slow motion. Even though they were hundreds of yards away, Heinz swore he could hear that first shell hit its target. In unison, every gunner on the ship released a hail of fire on the incoming fighters.

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Within moments, the enemy was on them, the noise deafening, but they’d trained for this moment, and John knew he was not the only sailor remembering Pearl Harbor. They were a well-oiled machine, bringing down planes to sink below the waves. They were almost in the clear when, over the cacophony, Heinz heard…something…out of place. He turned to his left and froze for a moment. A cold sweat suddenly rolled down his scorching back. A Zero had made it through all the gunfire and somehow released an object to skid quickly towards his post. A torpedo! Without even realizing he had made the choice to do so, Heinz found his feet, his whole body, sprinted towards the object. He knew he had to slow it down or he and his shipmates would never make it home. As he neared the torpedo, he braced for the impact of this thousand-pound bomb sliding across the deck.  When it hit, he felt ribs crack and give way as the air was driven from his lungs. He was pressed against the front of it, eyes closed, digging his heels in to slow it down, yet he knew it was futile. There was no way he could win this fight. He could feel the soles of his shoes giving in as his lungs screamed for air, thinking, John, this was a big mistake, boy.

 

Just as the panic threatened to overwhelm him, he felt the torpedo begin to slow a little, then a little more, and he opened his eyes and looked. There were Method and Tempo right there with him, fighting the deadly fish, stopping it together. As the torpedo stopped, they could hearcheers erupt. They realized the skies had cleared, and they had survived. The whole deck exploded into a chorus of cheers.

           

That was until the sirens sounded once again. Broken ribs or no, they had to hurry back to their stations to fend off the next wave, only this time, the wave was not nearly as small. Tempo, Heinz, and Method were giving it their all when, suddenly, they heard a terrifying sound. Click. Their gun was out of ammo. Heinz fed the last belt of ammo into the gun as Tempo lept to the desk, running for the armory. As he ran down hallways, squeezing past injured sailors. The world suddenly tilted as he was knocked off his feet by an explosion that rocked Yorktown. Tempo was groggy as he regained his feet and pressed onward, adrenaline numbing the pain. He didn’t remember actually reaching the empty armory, but he knew he made it back to the flight deck in record time. As he gripped the last ladder and began the climb back to his post, one part of his brain registered that the fighting was more intense.

 

As he reached his gun deck, he froze. There, where his station had been, where his buddies had been, was a gaping maw. Thick smoke rolled in acrid waves, flames crackling. Ammunition went rolling across the deck and crashed down the ladder as Tempo moved toward that hellish hole in Yorktown's deck. His stomach lurched and threatened to betray him when he finally found Method. His flesh was black, charred, and his left leg was just…gone. Jerking off his belt, he wrapped it around what was left of Method's leg and tried to stop the blood flow when the medics arrived.

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The moon was glorious that night, as only a tropical moon could be. Tempo leaned against the rail and looked at the hole that had replaced Method's leg. Doc said he thought Method would pull through with a little luck. As for Heinz, all they could find were his dog tags. Tempo pulled them out and looked at the blackened metal.

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“We did it, Heinz. We saved Midway. We got revenge for Will, and one day we will get it for you and Method. I promise.”

 

His fist closed around the metal squeezing tightly. Then his fingers unfurled and Tempo looked down at the name stamped into the tag. Taking out his pocket knife, he scratched the word “Heinz" into the metal before slipping both back into his pocket. He knew he should send the tags back to John’s mother; there was nothing else to send the poor woman. Then again, from what John had told him, she probably wouldn’t know the difference, if she was even still alive. For her sake, for all their sakes, he hoped that was true. It gave him comfort, to think of John, Will, and Ma, together in heaven, keeping an eye on the Yorktown as she headed for home.