Jade Egbert Harley strode across the deck of the U.S.S. Arizona as though she owned it, clipboard tight in hand, fingers bearing odd multi-colored little rings gripped tight on the wooden frame, white dress flowing behind her. She smiled warmly at the passing sailors, each returning the warm smile with one of their own. She was on her way to find Captain Harley; her husband. Jade loved her work as an officer's secretary. Hell, she even found her husband that way. Or, as Jade always put it, her husband found her. She was just about to enter the indoor quarters of the ship when she heard a holler from the bow. It was distant and she couldn't make it out, but Jade recognized the urgency and panic in the tone. She turned around, as did the sailors near her. She began to stride forward as more calls rang out. As she approached the men making the noise, she a few recognizable words. "Planes-" "gotta get off-" "flying too low" "mother of god, torpedos-". Jade's mouth slowly went agape, her larger two front teeth now exposed. Her arms turned to jelly, falling to her side, the clipboard hitting the deck of the ship with a loud wooden smack. Her eyes grew wide behind her large round glasses, the sun shining off the silver frame, reflecting the large grey blot making it's way from the sky towards her.
"Shit!" John yelped as he missed the nail he was attempting to hammer, hitting his thumb instead. It began to throb red and he quickly stuck the injured digit in his mouth, numbing the pain as best he could.
"Egbert, you ok!?" a voice called from below, John's construction manager. While one might usually think that a call if someone is "ok" would show concern, with John's construction manager it was more of a "if you're injured you're fired" sort of deal. Being a construction worker in L.A. was not fun work, John would tell you if he didn't have his thumb in his mouth.
"Fine, boss! Just whacked my thumb…! Again! I'm coming down!" John said, sliding his legs off the wooden beam he sat on to hop onto the ladder that made it's way down to the ground floor of the soon-to-be apartment complex.
John was halfway down the ladder when he heard his construction manager's voice. "Egbert, hurry up!" Usually this meant that John had left his equipment in the cement mixer (again) or had dropped a hammer on someone's lunch (again) but his manager's tone was of panic, not anger. This got John moving. He ignored the throbbing thumb and grab-stepped his way down the ladder as quick as he could.
John hit the ground with a thud and turned, barely avoiding tripping into an open ditch. Many of his fellow employees were huddled around the radio. What was going on? John quickly approached and began to listen, resting his thumb back in his mouth, sucking gingerly on the injured digit. As everyone began to settle down, the voice of the president, Franklin Delano Roosevelt began. This shushed all the idle chatter and whispers between workers. "Yesterday, Dec. 7, 1941 - a date which will live in infamy - the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan…" That was as far as John got before he was sprinting from the construction site, sprinting to catch a bus, utter distraught in his eyes.
Rose L. Egbert stared in utter horror at the television. It couldn't be. This was impossible. What she was hearing was impossible. Rose's hands began to tremble on her coffee cup but she starred on, fighting back the tears climbing in her throat. It took a lot to break Rose Lalonde Egbert, and yet she could feel her self coming apart at the seams. The president continued. "The United States was at peace with that nation and, at the solicitation of Japan, was still in conversation with the government and its emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the Pacific.
Indeed, one hour after Japanese air squadrons had commenced bombing in Oahu, the Japanese ambassador to the United States and his colleagues delivered to the Secretary of State a formal reply to a recent American message. While this reply stated that it seemed useless to continue the existing diplomatic negotiations, it contained no threat or hint of war or armed attack…" The coffee cup slipped from Rose's hand, crashing to the floor.
Dave Strider glared behind his shades, teeth in a snarl as he listened to the radio, car oil staining his white and red accented baseball shirt. Mother fuckers, he thought. The mother fucking little- Two other mechanics stood behind Dave, their faces equally snarled in anger and hatred. A man whose car was being worked on was sitting on the ground, head in his hands. "M-My boy! My boy was wo-workin' on one of them ships in Pearl Harbor, h-he was stationed there! Oh god, oh god!" but the mans voice was so distant, so far from Strider's mind it was like the faint click of a clock in one's subconscious. Only Roosevelt's voice made it through his numbed state of hatred. "It will be recorded that the distance of Hawaii from Japan makes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned many days or even weeks ago. During the intervening time, the Japanese government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace.
The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces. Very many American lives have been lost. In addition, American ships have been reported torpedoed on the high seas between San Francisco and Honolulu…"
His oddly purple eyes trailed across the paper, a written excerpt of a speech the president of the United States gave roughly a day ago. "Yesterday, the Japanese government also launched an attack against Malaya. Last night, Japanese forces attacked Hong Kong. Last night, Japanese forces attacked Guam. Last night, Japanese forces attacked the Philippine Islands. Last night, the Japanese attacked Wake Island. This morning, the Japanese attacked Midway Island." A sickening, devilish grin rose from Imperial Officer Ampora's lips, a bloodthirsty look entering his eyes, his eyebrows high with excitement, the very hairs on the back of his neck standing up in sheer pleasure. War was coming. Blood would flow. And glory would be his.
The other Japanese officials huddled around the paper as Feferi Piexis's father, an aid to Emperor Tojo, read the transcript delivered to him aloud for all to hear, Feferi's eyes wide and face pale in fear, concern, and worry as she paid especially close attention. Her father read on; "Japan has, therefore, undertaken a surprise offensive extending throughout the Pacific area. The facts of yesterday speak for themselves. The people of the United States have already formed their opinions and well understand the implications to the very life and safety of our nation. As commander in chief of the Army and Navy, I have directed that all measures be taken for our defense. Always will we remember the character of the onslaught against us…" Feferi let out a faint whimper, audible only to her. "We're all going to die…" she whispered.
S.S. Officer Scratch had called his right and left hand men, Sergeant Makara and Sergeant Zahhak, in for a private reading of a recent address given by the esteemed Roosevelt, president of the United States. As Scratch delved deeper into the written copy of the speech delivered to him, sweat began to form on Equius's brow while a slow grin began to emerge on Gamzee's discolored face. Scratch read on; "No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory.
I believe I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost, but will make very certain that this form of treachery shall never endanger us again. Hostilities exist. There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory and our interests are in grave danger…" as Scratch trailed on, images of war- True, gruesome war- Emerged in Equius's head. Images of brothers killing brothers, of families fighting to their last breaths, of the utterly gruesome and unimaginable acts of war- All flashing through his mind, blinding him like a light that had been turned on too fast. "Oh my…" he breathed in a shaky tone under his breath.
Staff Sergeant Dirk Strider glared at the radio presenting grave news to him, his platoon of fresh recruits all huddled behind him to listen (not daring to get close enough to even brush their Staff Sergeant). Dirk's hands began to shake as Roosevelt began to finish. "With confidence in our armed forces - with the unbounding determination of our people - we will gain the inevitable triumph - so help us God.
I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, Dec. 7, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese empire." Dirk slowly rose his head, lip quivering, sweat forming at the lines where his hair met his face. He turned to his men who stared at him, looking for guidance, looking for orders, looking for an assurance that what the fuck they heard was true. Dirk strider slowly, carefully, adjusted his pointed sunglasses and stared at his men. "We're at war." Dirk said in a voice shaking with anger. Dirk simply broke away and began to walk forward, the men quickly clearing the way as he made his way across the training grounds, going nowhere in a hurry. The men stared in shock as their C.O. walked off. "We're at war…" one of them whispered to no one in particular. "War…" Another echoed.
We are at War.