Chapter 5

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1941

5:40 A.M.

“You keep quiet, okay, girl?” said Joe as he slowed down outside Millie’s house in Pearl City. Skipper gave a little huff but stayed silent.

As Joe got off his bike and wheeled it silently up to the driveway, he felt his stomach knot and his blood pound in his ears. He’d been excited since he crept into the kitchen that morning and found fresh-cut flowers in a vase on the kitchen table. That meant Pop had been home.

Normally, Pop spent the night on the West Virginia so he could rise early for breakfast. But this morning, when Joe had put his ear to his parents’ bedroom door, he’d heard his father’s signature snore. If he hustled, he could get Skipper on board the West Virginia before Pop was awake, without anyone noticing.

Millie’s house was bigger and nicer than Joe’s place, with carefully manicured bushes out front and colorful hibiscus flowers in the window boxes. A boxy dark-green army jeep sat in the driveway—Danny’s car, Joe knew from Millie. The car that would help him sneak Skipper on board.

Joe crept up to the door carefully, hoping to get everything moving before a neighbor spotted him or Skipper barked.

He raised his fist to knock on the door—

And it quickly swung inward, making him jump back.

“Good, you’re here,” said Danny, Millie’s older brother. He was gawky at eighteen, with skinny arms and legs wrapped in his blue naval uniform. His hair was mussed, and his eyes looked barely open and a little bloodshot, but at least he was here when Millie said he would be.

“Sure am,” said Joe. “Thanks for doing this, Danny. It’s really nice of you.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he said, hoisting a canvas rucksack over his shoulder and carefully closing the door behind him. “Where’s the dog?”

“Over there,” said Joe. “Skipper, come!”

Skipper broke her attentive seated position and bounded over to them. Danny got down and petted the side of her face while Skipper excitedly lapped at Joe’s hand.

“Beautiful dog,” said Danny. “Guess I have seen her around the docks. When Mills told me she was a dock stray, I pictured one of those scraggly island dogs that you see running around. But she looks real nice now that you guys cleaned her up and everything.”

“You think the guys on the West Virginia will like her?” asked Joe.

“Oh, sure,” said Danny. “A dog running around is good for the heart. And anyway, everyone loves a Labrador.” He stood and nodded to the jeep. “All right, let’s get going. The ship’s going to be hopping soon. We want to get there while everyone’s still too groggy to notice us.”

They climbed onto the seats of the jeep, with Skipper sitting on the floor at Joe’s feet. There were no doors and no top on the vehicle. When Danny started it up and it rumbled to life, Joe realized how easy it would be to fall out and gripped the edges of his seat tight. Danny didn’t seem to notice, and Skipper popped her head out of the door and let the wind blow her ears back.

They took off toward the harbor, the loudest thing moving along the streets this early. As they drove through the quiet morning of Oahu, Danny said, “This is a sweet thing you’re doing for your old man. Lord knows a dog could help buck up spirits on the old Wee Vee, and no one deserves to have their spirits lifted more than your dad.”

“You know my pop?” asked Joe.

“Marcus? Yeah, sure,” said Danny. “We’ve shot the breeze a couple of times. Funny guy. It’s a shame, too, because he’d be a great soldier if the brass could just get their heads out of their keisters and realize that an American’s an American, no matter what color he is.”

Joe nodded, feeling bad for Pop. His dad wanted to serve his country so badly, but black servicemen weren’t allowed in combat roles in the navy. Mama quietly said under her breath that it was a blessing, that Pop should be happy enough at home with them. The last thing she wanted was him leaving their family and going to war. But Joe had seen the way it pained Pop to be a man with a soldier’s bravery being unable to rise above third mess officer.

Up ahead, Pearl Harbor rose out of the horizon, a concentrated mass of squat buildings, giant battleships, and boxy control towers. Almost every surface had some sort of antenna on top of it or wire running from it, making the naval station look to Joe like a pile of military scrap with bits and pieces sticking out of it.

“Here we are,” said Danny. “Keep that dog’s head down.”

A metal fence stood around the naval base, with the road leading up to a red-and-white-striped bar blocking their path. The jeep pulled up at a booth where a chubby old man with a baked-in tan gave them a lazy salute.

“Morning, Danny,” he said. “How’s life?”

“Ah, can’t complain,” said Danny. “Another day in the navy.”

“I hear that.” When the man saw Joe, he squinted. “And who’s this with you?”

“This is Joe, Marcus Dean’s boy,” said Danny. “It’s his birthday today, so Joe’s going to surprise him onboard.”

“Is that right, boy?” asked the older man.

Joe felt a sting, being called “boy” for the millionth time, but decided to let it go, and he focused on leaning forward to block the old man’s view and keep Skipper out of sight.

“That’s right, sir,” he said.

The older man smiled and pressed a button. The bar lifted, and they drove into the docking area.

Joe felt a twinge of excitement as they entered the base. An actual naval base! Looking one way, he saw an airplane in a hangar, its engine being taken apart by an early-rising mechanic. Looking the other way, he saw boxes of ammunition: string after string of antiaircraft rounds, each bullet longer than his hand. All around him were the inner workings of a serious military operation. If only he had time to run around and see it all!

“This is so cool,” Joe said softly.

“You think this is cool?” Danny laughed. “Don’t forget those bad boys.”

Danny pointed. Joe followed his finger—and looked out on Battleship Row.

The ships grew bigger and bigger in front of him, until they were looming ahead of them like man-made mountains. Their surfaces were a hodgepodge of iron railings and radar dishes that all led up to huge command towers at their middles. Joe counted seven overall, and he marveled at the bow of the ship they parked in front of, noting that some of the numbers stenciled on the hulls of the ships were probably taller than he was.

“Wow,” he said, “they sure are huge.”

“Definitely,” said Danny. “The Wee Vee there is 624 feet long and weighs in at about 33,000 tons when it’s full. That big ol’ girl houses fourteen hundred sailors, so it better be big!”

“Fourteen hundred!” repeated Joe in awe.

“Oh yeah,” said Danny. “Make no mistake, if Hitler gets one look at these babies, he’s not even going to think about messing with us.” He climbed out onto the dock and held up one finger to Joe. “Wait here, give me a second.”

While Danny ran off to a small wooden shed, Joe reached down and petted Skipper. Something was up—she felt tense, and a shiver ran down her back. She kept looking back and forth from the battleship to Joe and back again. It worried Joe, so he tried to cheer her up with some scratches around the neck and chest.

“It’ll be okay, girl,” he said. “I know the ships are big and scary. But you’ll like it here. Pop’ll take good care of you.”

Skipper gave a single bothered bark—“HRFF.” She looked up at Joe and then looked away.

Danny came walking back out with a big wooden crate in his arms. Inside was a bed of straw with an imprint in it that Joe recognized as that of a torpedo. He and Joe helped Skipper into the crate, and Joe got her to lie down in the imprint.

“We’ll see you in a bit, Skipper,” said Joe, his heart twanging as he saw her sad face peering out at him.

“She’ll be fine,” said Danny, putting the lid back on over Skipper. “Come on, let’s do this quickly. First breakfast is at oh-six-hundred. If we’re lucky, we’ll get to the kitchen right before your dad does.” Joe got his hands under his side of the crate, and together he and Danny lifted and carried it toward the dock.

Danny led them to a metal platform that stretched from the dock to a large square opening right in the side of the West Virginia. The platform clanged and shook slightly under them as they made their way across it.

Joe glanced down and immediately realized he shouldn’t have. The water, which always seemed a perfect blue to him at the beach, looked slate-gray and sudsy sloshing some forty feet under him. He snapped his head back up, looked straight forward, and tried to gulp down his fear.

He’d thought the West Virginia couldn’t look any bigger than it had from the dock, but as they entered the loading door, the side of the ship turned into a gray wall of bolted-down metal panels. Between the ocean and the battleship, Joe felt like he was surrounded by giants that bore down on him with big gray faces . . .

But when they entered the ship, the whole world reversed—the passage they walked down was narrow and twisting, with pipes hanging overhead and handles coming off every wall.

The crate was hard to move in the passageways. Joe and Danny had to narrowly scoot through several sharp turns. As they came around one corner, Joe clocked his elbow against a ladder rung. “Yow!”

“Quiet!” hissed Danny. “Jeez Louise, kid, keep it down. We’re not exactly supposed to be doing this, you know?”

The ship was full of distant voices and clanging metal. Joe worried they’d get caught before they got to the mess hall, but Danny seemed to know his way around pretty well. They entered the mess hall, a larger room with tables and benches that looked just as stark and industrial as the corridors that led to it.

Joe drank in the pipe-cluttered space with amazement and a little bit of sadness. He’d always pictured Pop serving food in a big hall with high ceilings. In here, Danny almost had to duck sometimes to avoid getting clocked with a pipe. No wonder Pop wanted to fly planes in Europe instead of spending his days cooped up in this giant tin can.

“Kitchen’s back here,” said Danny. They carried the crate into a wide room lined with metal countertops and stoves. They brought the crate to the back, where a small hall of lockers sat, and stopped in front of one with “MD” stenciled on the front.

“Okay,” whispered Danny, and they lowered the crate. “So I’m thinking we put her in his locker and then wait around until your dad shows up. Then you say ‘happy birthday,’ open the locker, and—”

“Hey!”

Joe felt something like frost in his veins. He whirled around and looked into a pair of bright, familiar eyes. His stomach sank.

It was Seaman Norman, the sailor from down by the beach yesterday.

“Well, look who it is!” he cried. “Marcus’s boy, come to visit his dad at work. What do you think of the kitchen, kiddo? Hope your dad likes working here, because it’s as far up in the ranks as he’ll ever get!”

Joe’s face burned. He opened his mouth to reply, but Danny shot Joe a glance that said, Don’t bother.

“I’m just showing the kid around, Norman,” said Danny. “He wanted to surprise his dad. It’s Marcus’s birthday today.”

“Is that right?” said Norman, nodding at the crate. “What’s the deal with the torpedo crate? That a present for him, Cunningham?”

“Yeah, exactly,” said Danny, exhaling hard. “We brought him a present, that’s all.”

“Mind if I take a peek?” asked Norman. He took a step toward the crate—

And the crate barked.

Joe jumped at the noise, its volume increased by their surroundings. The barking echoed along the walls, out of the kitchen and into the mess, along every rung and plate and ladder, bouncing through the metal maze of the West Virginia.

“What was that?” called a voice from the hallway. The sound of stomping boots got louder and louder.