'Cedar Haven'

Stoney Jackson is an old pearl harbor veteran.When his best friends last wish is to see the ocean one last time Stoney breaks them out of their retirement home, but memories of that day flood back.

'' Cedar Haven''

 

By the time the Oldsmobile arrived at Dana Point Harbor the forecast Super moon hung in the night sky just above a shimmering silver Pacific horizon, practically most of the way from Ventura some radio station or other was talking about it. If wasn’t on the news channel or weather report then an over enthusiastic disc jockey was urging everyone in Orange County to step out and gaze heavenward. 'Stoney' cut the engine and took a moment to do just that. The light sea breeze he felt chill the sweat dry on his back  was a welcome relief from the day’s heat he had endured inside the stolen vehicle; trust him to abscond in the only car with a broken air conditioning system.

Choices were limited however, he didn’t have time to hot wire any others so he was forced into the only one left open that had the keys hidden above the steering wheel in the sun visor.                               Not that he had purloined many cars in his life time but he had watched loads of movies and the bad guys always knew where the keys were. Maybe the dumb a*****e who owned this piece of junk should have watched the same films, but to his amazement they just dropped into his lap when he raised his hand to check. He felt that some divine intervention was guiding him just like it had done so long ago. He had never forgotten that day, 60 years is a long time to hold a memory some might say but they weren’t there.

Feeling tired from his drive Stoney looked around him for a comfortable place to sit while he could enjoy the Luna enchantment that was being displayed in the purple twilight. Just a few yards from where he was standing a small out crop of stones on a minor hill surrounded by a patch of crab grass seemed the perfect spot to place his worn out butt. Providing his dodgy hip didn’t play up he felt that he could amble on over and rest a spell before he needed to attend to his passenger, besides there was no hurry his friend Theodore had been fast asleep for the last twenty miles. He figured he would leave him be just a while longer. His pain was slight and bearable and he was thankful for that, it made the few steps sufferable to his chosen resting place even though the stones were no match for his comfortable chair back in the T.V room of Cedar Haven. Oh how he longed to be there, he made a quick glance at his watch and dropped his shoulders, it was seven after ten, coffee and cookies are served at 9pm on Friday nights just before 'Murder she Wrote' starts on channel 5. Both he and Theo liked to settle down and enjoy Angela Lansbury in her quest to solve the murder. Mind you they always argued over who done it with usually both being wrong, mostly, but that was the fun of it, he smiled to himself and looked over towards the car were Theo was still sleeping.

 Now that he was sitting he felt the pangs of hunger in his stomach and wished he could partake of those cookies right this minute, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine that hot cup of java rising up to his lips, feel the steam on the tip of his nose and inhale the sweet aroma of those fresh ground beans. He could go buy a cup of course, he was sure there would be a cafe near the pier, in fact he was confident he could see the lights of some Bars and restaurants from his vantage point. Just a short walk, not that far and he could bear the pain for a refreshing cup of Joe. Providing he had the money-but there lay the problem, the management at the old folk’s home never allowed the ‘Inmates' to carry any. He ran his fingers through his wiry gray goatee beard in solemn concentration on how to resolve this dilemma. Tentatively he checked his pockets in the off chance the money fairy had overtly made a mistake and left some there while he was sleeping last night. He wasn’t surprised to find them all empty, but he blew out his cheeks with disappointment in any case. Maybe Theo had a few bucks his brain queried silently within his head, but he knew it would be a futile exercise to look he was just as broke as he was and he didn’t want to wake him just to ask. His chances were fading as was his energy; this was no place to be for a tired old sailor. Only the smell of the salt air gave him some consolation, it had been a long time since he had breathed in the crispness of an ocean at night, he took in the moment and stared at the Super moon just as he had done on the bridge of the Arizona all those years ago.

As on that night just like now the sky was clear and the stars were in abundance, the drifting sounds of laughter from the bars and restaurants along the pier reminded him of men talking and laughing from the mess below, the NBU22 had just returned from the 'Battle of Music' a navel competition between all the moored ships in the harbor. Even though they had not performed, all the men were in high spirits after qualifying for the finals.

Stoney's watch was between midnight and 6am, his second of the day, earlier he had overseen the ship take on a full load of fuel in preparation of the trip to the mainland later in the month. Named in honor of the 48^th state she was a formidable battleship. How could he have known the horrors that were to take place that very next morning, none of those poor souls he could hear would survive the day, and only for one man he too might not be sitting here dreaming of his hot elusive coffee. ''Theodore Johnson'' he whispered to himself before looking towards the car again, '' You old son of a b***h''.

Slowly the sounds of delectation began to fade in his personal awareness and give way to the drone of an engine muted by the steel cocoon of his sleeping quarters, like an irritating bug buzzing around it intruded into his long awaited sleep. A sleep he yearned for again but a promise is a promise. Stoney closed his eyes and placed his tattered old Blue baseball cap at his feet among the patch of crab grass, he knew by now that it was better to allow the memories to take hold and run their course. Many nights since then he had tried to suppress them, but the turmoil they invoked only returned with a renewed vengeance and a more disturbing recollection. Lately they had been more frequent, more vivid equally as frightening, dragging him back to that day of infamy.            The doctor at Cedar Haven had prescribed some mild sedatives to help him sleep but over the years they became less effective, sometimes he could forget briefly, a month a few weeks, but always it was there below the surface. God forgive him but every time he looked at Theo it was like they had just met, he hated him for it but also his love for his friend out weighed everything.                        Stoneys heart fluttered and stopped his breathing briefly as the echoes of time began to play in the theatre of his mind once more.

The bug was getting closer, louder, more annoying, voices were being raised inside an iron phonation of sequent vibrations, with a heartfelt sigh of reluctance he leaned across and checked his watch that hung on a small hook beside his bed. Through sopor eye's devoid of the aid his spectacles contributed he was able to ascertain that it was 7.51am, he had been in bed less than two hours, and he wondered who the hell was flying planes so low on a Sunday.

He felt himself cup his ears to the sounds that were reaching through the years each one more louder than the last ticking the moments down in slow motion on his outcrop of stones, opening to the surreal point when he looked out of his porthole window and saw the face of a Japanese pilot looking back from his cockpit. He had waved at him and seemed to hover briefly in the morning sky, Stoney had returned the gesture dumbstruck believing he was still sleeping and all this was the result of a bad piece of steak or cheese that cookie should have thrown overboard long ago.

Only when the thud of the first torpedo struck and the screams of dying men congealed into a thunderous explosion that pitched him across his cabin did he realize he was awake.

The ship shuddered from bow to stern and immediately tilted into a downward motion throwing him back again against the steel wall at his bed head. A sharp pain erupted into his right leg pinning him to a fragment of metal that had peeled back like the skin of an apple from his cabin floor.  Steam, sea water and oil were oozing from the hole that was rapidly filling his room. He could hear wailing ship alarms and the thump of shells coming from the Yak- Yak guns outside and above him; lukewarm blood began to pool into the swirling foaming water from his wound. The sting of the salt made him grimace with pain but he knew his duty was to get on deck and help with the ship's defense; he would have no time to dress or come to terms with what was happening it was evident that Pearl Harbor was under attack and the only thing to do was help.

Slowly he eased himself off the metal shard, from what he could see he was cut but it wasn’t deep, without thinking he grabbed the sheet from his bed and ripped a fragment off with his hands between his teeth, big and long enough to make a makeshift bandage.

Sitting there on his grass patch Stoney felt the emotional scars that went along with the physical every day since, a dull ache that lingered in his leg reminded him of the death and destruction he witnessed when he began to make his way out into the gangway that led to the upper decks.         The steel door of his cabin opened outward allowing more water to cascade in, directly facing him two sailors were waist deep pointing extinguishers into the heart of a fire that was consuming the entrance to a junior officers stateroom, a futile exercise of that he was sure. No one inside would be alive.                                                        He paused momentarily as if mesmerized at their gallant efforts unsure if he should help, his eyes burned with the haze of acrid smoke and leaking engine fuel that was floating in small islands of flame on the waters surface. To his left the body of a young crewman bloody and black with oil rippled and bobbed tangled beneath the stairwell like a burned out rag doll caught up on an oceans tide, he recognized his arm patch of the NBU22 instrumental band that only a few hours ago were making so much noise celebrating in the galley. Urgency and training began to kick into place; many times he had rehearsed for a fire breaking out on ship, but no amount of drilling had ever prepared him for an attack from the skies.

He began to move towards the butchers shop and diving gear locker room, along the passage way beneath gun number ten, a five inch anti aircraft weapon that was thudding out shells at rapid speed, he could hear the clank of the empty munition hit the deck and the muted screams of men running from ricocheting 5mm bullets pinging across the steel plated ceiling. Above his head Conduits carrying power and communications hung precariously low like a spider’s web of cables waiting to catch an unsuspecting fly crackled and sparked copper rain down into the foaming salt water. He made the stairs and launched himself upwards two at a time ignoring the sharpness of the open grill steps on his cut and bloodied bare feet. As he ascended the ship lurched and swayed as the bombardment continued with a relentless ferocity a few times he almost lost his footing before he made it up top. Eight minutes had passed from the first hit; three more had put her down at the stern and she was sinking fast, tenseness began to overtake him these were the moments he dreaded so much more than the others he must endure. Always they slipped into slow motion; it was as if his mind wanted to prolong the agony of what was to follow. Disembodied he see’s himself running, reeling from the motions of a ship that is dying, listening to her death groans. Above him the early morning Hawaiian sky is peppered with silhouetted black images of Japanese Navy 99 fighters dropping their payload of 250 kilogram torpedo bombs. Some miss and explode in the sea around the ships sending plumes of spray upwards in towers of water, only to fall depositing the bodies of dead sailors onto the surface like lilies on a pond. 

He feels his feet heavy and cumbersome, his arms dragging unable to keep up with his racing thoughts in his determination to reach the empty number 6 A.A gun position on the side of the ship, then just as he grasps the armory a single plane emerges from the blood red horizon heading low and level towards the ship. His eyes fix on the solitary bomb that is attached to its wing; he knows that this is the killer blow should it reach its target.

 In his minds eye he imagined the pilot’s steeliness as he pushes his plane just that little bit faster; he remembers the coldness of the trigger grip in his sweating palms, in his peripheral vision he is aware of men jumping overboard as the plane tilts and swerves avoiding the tracers that he has begun to fire. Some strike the planes wheels, but most miss and scream off into the smoke filled sky. He sets his sights on the warhead and feels his body slip into a fearful precision, his breathing slows and the sound of his thumping heart resonates with his head.

His weapon is hot to the touch and the belt clip shows only four rounds remain to fire; time is running out as the plane strafes the deck behind him. He squeezes the trigger and braces for the recoil, the first shot misses. The second takes a chunk out of the propeller making the aircraft pitch violently but fails to slow its attack; his third shatters the cockpits glass and continues on through the head of the pilot killing him instantly and sending it spiraling downwards. Stoney knows its going to hit because it’s too close to ditch into the sea and he has no chance of taking out the torpedo with his last shot. This is the moment most often played out in the theater of his mind; this is the nightmare that has stayed with him for so long, the one he finds so hard to repress. The chill of the night air and the sound of waves crashing upon the harbor walls only enhance the tension parallel to the cerebral audio playback that’s pounding in his head forcing him to remember the conclusion to his terrifying daydream.  

He turns letting go of the weapon pushing his head low, his shoulders down to balance out his body as he begins his run across the slowly sinking deck, like a sprinter leaving the blocks in a race he moves in graceful actions picking up speed with each step. He glances over his shoulder as the burning plane banks and dips towards the ships port side; he feels his heart keep in step with every stride he makes towards the starboard rail.

He knows the sea will be ice cold when he plunges into it to the point of bone breaking but he is willing to take the shock of its churning surface than be covered in a ball of flames spitting from a wall of burning aviation fuel the heat of which he can already feel on the back of his neck. Stumbling, running, stumbling running, his ears are filled with the roar of the engine, closer it comes. Then in his mind movie the audio fails and the video trans-morphs to black and white before he reaches the rail his body moving into a frame by frame playback, behind him the plane thuds and explodes into the side of the ship producing a force of racing air. Like a leaf caught up in a summer squall he is lifted, tossed and pitched head first into the oily sea. Immediately coldness envelopes him much more than he expected or could have braced for, instantly his breath is forced out of his lungs in a stream of ear piercing air bubbles. Lights flash in his eyes making him disorientated; his body feels limp as his strength begins to fade, the sensation of serenity moves across him. He no longer feels the need to try and swim or save himself. Drowning isn’t so bad he thinks, just take a deep breath and it will all be over, let the tranquility of death embrace his body so that he can move into the realm of peace. Already he is beginning to feel the tug of life diminish and the pull of calmness call to him, ‘’ Hey Buddy!’’ a distant voice speaks.

Is this the sound of god or an angel?

‘’ You’re going to be okay!’’ the voice says to him ‘’ Boy, you sure are one lucky son of a b***h’’ it speaks from inside the mist of his delirium, behind his eyes he feels confused, god or angels never cuss. The pull of serenity was great and he could so easily remain in its caress but he felt a stronger wrench of arms around his waist in the swirl of the oceans under current. His archangel or savior was helping him into a boat ‘’ what’s your name buddy’’ this liberator was asking through the blur of his confusion.

‘’Stoney’’ he chokes ‘’Stoney Jackson, first mate the Arizona’’ he manages to splutter before the pull of calmness begins to caress his waterlogged body once more. He begins to drift into its realm with the sound of the voice calling. Below him he feels the sway of the sea and the cugga, cugga, cugga sound of the powerboats motor.

‘’Hey Buddy,’’ the voice appeals in a vibrating whisper ‘’ Stoney Jackson, wake up, wake up, wake_u_

Stoney’s feels his body jerk into a rigor bringing with it a bolt of nausea making him roll over and be sick, but instead of a metal deck of a power boat below him that he expects he is confused to find a patch of grass and a mound of rocks slowly making imprints into his aging back. And yet through his exploitation of throwing up he can still hear a voice calling to him, a familiar voice, and a voice he has known for 60years. His friend Theodore is awake and shouting from the parked car.  Above him as he lies prone the super moon that shone so bright when he entered his dream has now been replaced by a golden morning sun that is rising up from a calm sparkling Pacific horizon. A light film of beach dust has formed on the Buicks Blood red bonnet and windshield; in the cloudless sky silent seagulls swoop and glide on the warm updraft that’s sweeping in on the rolling tide.

‘’Hold on Theo’’ he cries across to the car hoping that he can pull his aching body into an upright position with the least amount of pain. ‘’don’t be afraid old Stoney is nearly there’’ Slowly he ambles towards his waking companion like an aging penguin on a snow covered ice slip moving in tentative steps.

‘’Where are we Stoney?’’ he asks

‘’don’t you remember?’’

Theo shrugs his shoulders bemused ‘’Last thing I recall was that you were sitting by my bedside and I said that wouldn’t it be nice if I could see the ocean just one last time, you did it didn’t you! You broke us out of Cedar haven and stole a god damn car’’

‘’Yep I sure did’’ Stoney smiles with a wicked grin growing under his white beard.

‘’Nurse Barnaby’s Oldsmobile’’ Theo smiles back at him, ‘’I recognize this piece of junk’’

‘’The very same’’ he chokes a laugh that makes him fall into a coughing, fit ‘’I never did like that a*s hole’’

‘’Why?’’ Theo asks him still looking mystified.

When Stoney regains his composure from his breath draining clogging that has left his chest sore and his eyes watering he slides a loving arm around his friends shoulders and escorts him over to were the little out crop of crab grass he had just been sleeping on and helps him down to sit. For a moment both men just sit in silence and look out over the morning sea with soft white clouds drifting slowly in the distance. From some where an unseen ship’s horn can be heard crying its lonesome call and a single albatross catches a warm updraft just in front of them.

‘’All long time ago’’ Stoney begins ‘’someone not only saved my life, and not only did they pull me from the sea and give me a future that I might never have known but that some one became my friend for life. You asked me last night if you could see the ocean just one more time before you died, so this is the way I can repay you for that morning when death came to so many others, ‘a day of infamy’ I think is how Franklin D Roosevelt put it, so what do you say we just sit here a spell and you enjoy your last wish, how does that sound to you my old friend?’’

‘’I guess that would be just fine’’ Theo said turning to look at Stoney his eyes welling up with tears ‘’I wont make it back will I Stoney?’’

‘’F’raid not’’ was all he could say in reply. ‘’You got any money?’’

Theo watched the lone albatross for a moment soar high into the clouds then he disappeared into a tiny speck. A feeling of  sadness ripples through him when at last it is gone, he know that just like the bird he too will be soon be caching a virtuous breeze that will carry his soul to eternity but he could think no where better to be at that moment than any other but with his friend Stoney Jackson. Tenderly he slides his hand into his and gives it a short squeeze.

‘’Thank You’’ He whispers.

 

The End.

Will Neill 2014    

 

 

Author's Note

Its been a while since I posted a story here on WC, but I found this lately again and I thought you might enjoy reading it. I hope so, feel free to comment if you wish, all welcome.
Will

Reviews

[Taylor]

Hi Will, I'm back again. Hope you don't mind, but the easiest way for me to review this piece is through specifics. Hope that's helpful. If not, you know what to do with it.

1) "By the time the Oldsmobile arrived at Dana Point Harbor the forecast Super moon hung in the night sky just above a shimmering silver Pacific horizon, practically most of the way from Ventura some radio station or other was talking about it." -- Opinion: Readers start out lazy; may gain energy and willingness to exert themselves after you've hooked them. Theory: Shorter sentences take less work from the reader. Thus: In this instance, the long first sentence requires some work from the reader. It would be easier on that lazy-son-of-a-gun if you break this into two sentences.
2)" an over enthusiastic " -- no doubt a typo -- should be "overly enthusiastic"
3) "Stoney cut the engine and took a moment to do just that." -- This would be a good place to start a new paragraph -- remember that lazy reader isn't sufficiently hooked yet to do any heavy lifting.
4) "The light sea breeze he felt chill the sweat dry on his back was a welcome relief from the day’s heat he had endured inside the stolen vehicle; trust him to abscond in the only car with a broken air conditioning system." -- Here's your hook, but it's buried in a long sentence. No one really cares about the breeze drying the sweat on his back. Their ears perk up with a stolen vehicle. Also, if you want to keep the chill drying the sweat on his back, the construction of that sentence (as with this one I'm writing) is a bit awkward and convoluted.
5)"Not that he had purloined many cars in his life time but he had watched loads of movies and the bad guys always knew where the keys were." Another good place to start a new paragraph for to please the hapless reader.
6) "Providing his dodgy hip didn’t play up he felt that he could amble on over and rest a spell before he needed to attend to his passenger, besides there was no hurry his friend Theodore had been fast asleep for the last twenty miles." -- This essentially is a run-on sentence.
7) "His pain was slight and bearable and he was thankful for that, it made the few steps sufferable to his chosen resting place even though the stones were no match for his comfortable chair back in the T.V room of Cedar Haven." -- See how this might read if it were punctuated thus: "His pain was slight and he was thankful for that. It made the few steps to his chosen resting place somewhat bearable even though they were no match to his comfortable chair back at Cedar Haven." Note: I've deleted "sufferable" because I don't think that's really what you mean and I've also skipped the designation that his comfy chair was in the TV room, not for any reason except brevity and at this point I don't think that detail is essential to the story. Too much detail (as in this review) may interfere with getting the message across, just plain slows down the reader too much.
8) "Oh how he longed to be there, he made a quick glance at his watch and dropped his shoulders, it was seven after ten, coffee and cookies are served at 9pm on Friday nights just before 'Murder she Wrote' starts on channel 5." This is actually three sentences.
9) " pangs of hunger in his stomach" -- no need to specify "in his stomach." The reader already knows where "pangs of hunger" manifest themselves.
10) " he closed his eyes and tried to imagine that hot cup of java rising up to his lips," This is the beginning of a new sentence.

Ok, I'm sure you get the point and I hope you will forgive me for being soo detailed and opinionated. My hope is to be constructive, but of course you're the authority on your own writing and just disregard what doesn't make sense to you. You're such a good story teller that a little polish on these technical things in my view would pay off a great deal.

11) Great enigmatic detail in this section: "As on that night just like now the sky was clear and the stars were in abundance, [end the sentence there] the drifting sounds of laughter from the bars and restaurants along the pier reminded him of men talking and laughing from the mess below, [new sentence]the NBU22 had just returned from the 'Battle of Music' a navel competition between all the moored ships in the harbor. Even though they had not performed, all the men were in high spirits after qualifying for the finals.

Stoney's watch was between midnight and 6am, his second of the day, [new sentence] earlier he had overseen the ship take on a full load of fuel in preparation of the trip to the mainland later in the month. Named in honor of the 48th state she was a formidable battleship. How could he have known the horrors that were to take place that very next morning, [new sentence] none of those poor souls he could hear would survive the day, and only for one man he too might not be sitting here dreaming of his hot elusive coffee. ''Theodore Johnson'' he whispered to himself before looking towards the car again, '' You old son of a b***h''." -- Ive indicated where new sentences might start for ease in reading and to avoid run-on sentences.
12) "Slowly the sounds of delectation" -- I think I know what you mean here, but it's awkward and at least for me, perhaps not necessary.
13) "tenseness began to overtake him" -- Really, only now? I should have thought that he would have been tense during the entire dramatic scene. You have done a marvelous job writing that scene -- very dramatic, detailed, crisp. Lots of run-on sentences, but if that were cleaned up, you'd have a stupendous result!
14) "Buicks Blood red bonnet" -- Since this story is about American servicemen, may I suggest that you say "Buick's blood red hood." In the US, the "bonnet" is the hood, I think, or is it the trunk?

Goodness gracious, this is a marvelous story. You were able to create a tender tale while also portraying the horrendous violence of that day and the sweet friendship of saved and savior, who in the end reversed roles. I would love to see you edit it for the types of issues I've cited above, because it is very much worth the effort and I cannot help but believe that you'd have success in seeing it published. Really, really good work. If you could see me, I'm giving you a standing ovation!

[Will Neill]

Taylor thank you for reading and your in-depth review, I'm impressed,I will print off your suggestions and apply them as soon as I can. Many thanks again (Maybe I could hire you to edit my books) Take care
Will

[Taylor]

Glad it was of some help.

[alanwgraham]

Well done - what a story! Reading this I think it would benefit from shortening your sentences and using more commas, dashes etc to maintain the sense of the read. Cutting out as many words that are just taking up space is a good idea too. Hope you find this helpful and I'm no expert. Just work away at it and make sure it reads well and makes sense. You do have a superb story to tell here.
I have just written a similar story about my dad who was in a battleship HMS Anson and - I'll not spoil it for you! It is called 'walking to zero'
Thanks, alan

[Will Neill]

Alan, thank you for your constructive review. I would like to read your story, maybe I will go and have a look.
Will

[David Scott]

You know how to tell a story...
Enjoyed.

[Will Neill]

Thanks David. You know how to write poetry, each to their own, I think.
Take Care
Will

[richieb]

Will, Thank you for posting this story. Your vivid descriptions are as good if not better than all the W.W.II books I have read. I was right with Stoney Jackson during the battle scenes. When the readers 5 senses are aroused, the writer has done a superb job. As always I enjoyed your story and look forward to reading more. Richie B.

[Will Neill]

Thank you Richie it means a lot to get a good review.
Will

[Woody]

gripping tale, Will. and moving towards the end. interesting take on the Pearl Harbor attack.
minor punctuation errors but the lilliputian font killed me :)

[Will Neill]

Thanks Woody, sorry about the small font it wasn't until I posted it did I realize just how minute it was.But I'm glad you enjoyed it anyway. I meant to concentrate more on the two guys but the pearl harbour description seemed to run away with its self. Also it was one I've had for a while so I put it up.Maybe it could have been better.
Will

[Woody]

I admire your thoroughness when writing a story. superb storytelling.

[Tegon Maus]

Good story Will ! Nothing beats a good stolen car story ! Okay, maybe a couple of old life long friends last trip together... that'll do it !!

[Will Neill]

Tegon, How are you my friend? I hope you and Dearheart are having a happy and peace new year, and thank you for your kind review.
Will