Part III - Pearl Harbor
Yelps could be heard from the hospital. Men slunk away
from the place muttering curses and rubbing their sore
bottoms. A line of new pilots and sailors wound round the
blindingly white halls; they looked nervous and some a
little green. Physicals and immunizations were hated and
feared by all, and the appearance of a giant disguised as a
nurse brandishing a needle did little to quell their fears.
Judy eyed the white face recruits and sighed. She turned to
the purple-eyed boy that clutched the door jam in a death
grip. "You need to get your shots now. You're holding up the
line." she said as she began to pry his fingers off the soft
wood.
"Can't you be a little easy on me? Give me twenty
minutes to collect myself," Duo pleaded.
Nurse Peterson, as her tag proclaimed, lead him to a
table with a firm hand and prepared the syringe. "The
government says to stick 'em, we stick 'em," replied Judy.
She raised her hand high and brought it down hard. Duo let
out a howl of pain. The others in line smirked as Duo
flinched as he stood. Still others paled further.
"Wouldn't be laughing boys. You're next," laughed Dr.
Quatre. "Next is Barton, Trowa ."
Heero strolled around the base. He walked quickly pass
Battleship Row, the small infirmary/hospital building, and
air field, small residences, and the command station. He
paused to gaze at the blazing sun sink below the horizon. A
throat cleared lightly behind him, and he turned.
"Heero Yuy?" asked a dignified man is early forties. He
was tall with a thin waist; he was fit for a man past his
prime. His faced was lined but friendly. The heavily adorned
and meticulously ironed uniform left no doubt in Heero's
mind to who he was. "I'm Commander Wilkens. Can't wait to
start cracking those codes?" he asked, giving Heero a firm
handshake.
"I'd like to put my bags away first if you don't mind,"
said Heero.
Wilkens laughed. "Right. Your quarters are down the
street. Here. I'll drive you," he said, taking out his jeep
keys.
Wufei stood on the decks of USS Arizona. Below him, a
boxing match was in session on deck. One of the men threw a
hard punch, and his opponent fell hard to the ground.
"There's no point, nor justice in that," he muttered as his
deep blue sailor scarf fluttered in the wind. He saw some
planes circle around overhead and land on the air field. It
was difficult to see them in the waning light of the late
afternoon. "The new pilots must of arrived by now," he
concluded. Bored, Wufei walked off the USS Arizona and to a
small boat headed towards Hospital Point.
Evelyn walked down the streets around the harbor
heading towards Hospital Point. She began to pout. "I think
I should of stayed in Washington," she muttered. She had two
suitcases with her, a briefcase, and her camera bag. It was
all becoming too much to carry. A young man with dark brown
hair in a jeep drove up to her just as the worn woman was
plunking down on the curb, luggage dropped unceremoniously
beside her.
"Excuse me miss," said a voice. "Do you need a ride
somewhere?"
"Uh, sure. Hospital Point please," Evelyn said,
throwing her stuff in the back and tiredly climbing in.
"I'm Trowa Barton, air force pilot," he paused,
glancing at Evelyn's camera. "Reporter?" Trowa asked.
Evelyn looked slightly amazed by his assumption, but
then realized that her professional-grade camera, her
briefcase, and her smart black skirt-and-jacket ensemble
didn't indicate 'vacationer' or even 'nurse.' As she thought
this, she blushed for not responding to him for so long.
"Yeah. I'm Evelyn Amada. I'm a reporter from D.C."
She paused again. She had just met him and she didn't
want to come off sounding too pushy, "But then John didn't
send me out here to wait for the story to come to me," she
mused. She looked him right in the eye. "I'd like to film
you sometime when you fly. You do fly, right?" she said.
"Everyday if I had it my way. You can film me all you
want," Trowa replied. He stopped the jeep near Hospital
Point. "I'll see you later then," he called as Evelyn
climbed out the jeep, dragging her multitude of cases and
bags with her.
As the physicals and immunizations came to a close,
Judy and Quatre left the last few new sailors and pilots in
the hands of some night nurses that just came on duty. Judy
rubbed her aching hands absent-mindedly. She supposed that
was the consequence for sticking the poor boys so hard. Judy
put away the used equipment while Quatre flipped through a
dozen or so medical charts and made comments to his head
nurse, Joy, before turning to Nurse Peterson. "Wanna catch a
late dinner after the rounds? We can go to the mess hall,"
he asked invitingly. Her eyes conveyed her reluctance, but
finally sighed and answered, "Sure," in a defeated tone.
Sometimes she was too passive for her own good. Dr. Quatre
smiled.
They quickly and efficiently made their rounds;
clipboards were put away, and civilian clothing, 'civies',
were adorned. When everything was in its appropriate place,
they walked outside to the steps of the hospital.
As the two entered the noisy mess hall and wandered
through the crowd searching for a table, food in hand,
suddenly a loud "JUDY!" was heard somewhere near the far
left corner of the large building. Both turned as a short
blur tackled the startled nurse in a hug. Judy looked down
and shook her head fondly.
"Hi, Evi. Long time no see," she said calmly, despite
the fact that the girl was squeezing her tightly. Judy had
missed her old childhood friend, though she would deny
immediately had she been questioned. Quatre looked on in
interest.
Introductions were made as the trio sat down at a
table. They were later joined by Duo, who was still rubbing
his sore bottom. "Do they tell you to stick us hard?" he
asked.
"It's regulation," Judy deadpanned as everyone laughed.
Their group grew larger. Heero Yuy from Naval Communications
and Trowa Barton, an air force pilot, readily dined with the
crew of mismatched war volunteers at Duo's adamant request.
Wufei Chang, the gunner from the USS Arizona, sat sullenly
with them because there were no empty seats left.
A warm camaraderie formed between the new (and in some
cases, old) friends as the talked about the lives they left
behind, brothers and sister, and even favorite baseball
teams. Soon the chat grew more serious; they talked about
their views of the war, why they were at Pearl, and the
possibility of an attack.
"I think there will be one. Most of the entire Pacific
Fleet lies here in Pearl Harbor," said Heero.
"If they destroy the harbor, nothing will stop them
from taking the rest of the Pacific and Asia," said Trowa.
"Looked like we chose the wrong outfit to go to, huh
Judy?" asked Dr. Quatre.
"Yeah looks like. Let's just hope they won't need our
services except for accidents on training missions and
hung-over officers. But It'd sure make your job interesting
then, wouldn't it, Evelyn?" said Judy.
"It'd be quite a story. I'm not saying there should be
an attack though," Evelyn added quickly.
"Of course not," said Wufei. "If there is an attack,
then we'd have to strike back. That is what's just."
"Yeah, they don't want to mess with the United States
Navy!" said Duo. "We'd give them a counterstrike they'd
never forget," he said fiercely.
Part III B - Night of December 6, 1941
On a cool Saturday night following a dinner in the mess
hall, Trowa, Duo, and Wufei headed to the local bar for a
drink. Along with many of their buddies, they began to
relax, partially due to the liquor.
Judy and Quatre finished their rounds at sick bay and
bidded the patients a good night.
Heero sat in his office, later than usual. He
intercepted some coded messages that caught his interest.
As the decoded version of the message was spat out of
'The Colossus,' Heero's eyes widened in surprise as he head.
The codes said to stop peace negotiations at a certain time.
Heero knew something was up. He could feel it in his bones.
"No good will come of this," he thought as he ran to
Commander Wilkens' office, just as he was leaving.
"The Japanese are going to attack us," he said,
slightly breathless.
"Do you have proof?" asked Wilkens as he rubbed his
eyes in exasperation and exhaustion.
"They're planning to cut off diplomatic relations, and
their naval fleet is undetected near Japan. They're probably
headed here," Heero stated. The commander considered
briefly.
"Give me hard evidence first, Heero. Until you have
proof, we'll wait," Wilkens said as he walked down the hall.
Evelyn sat at her desk. Being a reporter on location
here wasn't as exciting as being a reporter in D.C. She
slowly wrote her request to John to place her back at
Washington, where all the real stories were. There was
nothing for her here.
Yelps could be heard from the hospital. Men slunk away
from the place muttering curses and rubbing their sore
bottoms. A line of new pilots and sailors wound round the
blindingly white halls; they looked nervous and some a
little green. Physicals and immunizations were hated and
feared by all, and the appearance of a giant disguised as a
nurse brandishing a needle did little to quell their fears.
Judy eyed the white face recruits and sighed. She turned to
the purple-eyed boy that clutched the door jam in a death
grip. "You need to get your shots now. You're holding up the
line." she said as she began to pry his fingers off the soft
wood.
"Can't you be a little easy on me? Give me twenty
minutes to collect myself," Duo pleaded.
Nurse Peterson, as her tag proclaimed, lead him to a
table with a firm hand and prepared the syringe. "The
government says to stick 'em, we stick 'em," replied Judy.
She raised her hand high and brought it down hard. Duo let
out a howl of pain. The others in line smirked as Duo
flinched as he stood. Still others paled further.
"Wouldn't be laughing boys. You're next," laughed Dr.
Quatre. "Next is Barton, Trowa ."
Heero strolled around the base. He walked quickly pass
Battleship Row, the small infirmary/hospital building, and
air field, small residences, and the command station. He
paused to gaze at the blazing sun sink below the horizon. A
throat cleared lightly behind him, and he turned.
"Heero Yuy?" asked a dignified man is early forties. He
was tall with a thin waist; he was fit for a man past his
prime. His faced was lined but friendly. The heavily adorned
and meticulously ironed uniform left no doubt in Heero's
mind to who he was. "I'm Commander Wilkens. Can't wait to
start cracking those codes?" he asked, giving Heero a firm
handshake.
"I'd like to put my bags away first if you don't mind,"
said Heero.
Wilkens laughed. "Right. Your quarters are down the
street. Here. I'll drive you," he said, taking out his jeep
keys.
Wufei stood on the decks of USS Arizona. Below him, a
boxing match was in session on deck. One of the men threw a
hard punch, and his opponent fell hard to the ground.
"There's no point, nor justice in that," he muttered as his
deep blue sailor scarf fluttered in the wind. He saw some
planes circle around overhead and land on the air field. It
was difficult to see them in the waning light of the late
afternoon. "The new pilots must of arrived by now," he
concluded. Bored, Wufei walked off the USS Arizona and to a
small boat headed towards Hospital Point.
Evelyn walked down the streets around the harbor
heading towards Hospital Point. She began to pout. "I think
I should of stayed in Washington," she muttered. She had two
suitcases with her, a briefcase, and her camera bag. It was
all becoming too much to carry. A young man with dark brown
hair in a jeep drove up to her just as the worn woman was
plunking down on the curb, luggage dropped unceremoniously
beside her.
"Excuse me miss," said a voice. "Do you need a ride
somewhere?"
"Uh, sure. Hospital Point please," Evelyn said,
throwing her stuff in the back and tiredly climbing in.
"I'm Trowa Barton, air force pilot," he paused,
glancing at Evelyn's camera. "Reporter?" Trowa asked.
Evelyn looked slightly amazed by his assumption, but
then realized that her professional-grade camera, her
briefcase, and her smart black skirt-and-jacket ensemble
didn't indicate 'vacationer' or even 'nurse.' As she thought
this, she blushed for not responding to him for so long.
"Yeah. I'm Evelyn Amada. I'm a reporter from D.C."
She paused again. She had just met him and she didn't
want to come off sounding too pushy, "But then John didn't
send me out here to wait for the story to come to me," she
mused. She looked him right in the eye. "I'd like to film
you sometime when you fly. You do fly, right?" she said.
"Everyday if I had it my way. You can film me all you
want," Trowa replied. He stopped the jeep near Hospital
Point. "I'll see you later then," he called as Evelyn
climbed out the jeep, dragging her multitude of cases and
bags with her.
As the physicals and immunizations came to a close,
Judy and Quatre left the last few new sailors and pilots in
the hands of some night nurses that just came on duty. Judy
rubbed her aching hands absent-mindedly. She supposed that
was the consequence for sticking the poor boys so hard. Judy
put away the used equipment while Quatre flipped through a
dozen or so medical charts and made comments to his head
nurse, Joy, before turning to Nurse Peterson. "Wanna catch a
late dinner after the rounds? We can go to the mess hall,"
he asked invitingly. Her eyes conveyed her reluctance, but
finally sighed and answered, "Sure," in a defeated tone.
Sometimes she was too passive for her own good. Dr. Quatre
smiled.
They quickly and efficiently made their rounds;
clipboards were put away, and civilian clothing, 'civies',
were adorned. When everything was in its appropriate place,
they walked outside to the steps of the hospital.
As the two entered the noisy mess hall and wandered
through the crowd searching for a table, food in hand,
suddenly a loud "JUDY!" was heard somewhere near the far
left corner of the large building. Both turned as a short
blur tackled the startled nurse in a hug. Judy looked down
and shook her head fondly.
"Hi, Evi. Long time no see," she said calmly, despite
the fact that the girl was squeezing her tightly. Judy had
missed her old childhood friend, though she would deny
immediately had she been questioned. Quatre looked on in
interest.
Introductions were made as the trio sat down at a
table. They were later joined by Duo, who was still rubbing
his sore bottom. "Do they tell you to stick us hard?" he
asked.
"It's regulation," Judy deadpanned as everyone laughed.
Their group grew larger. Heero Yuy from Naval Communications
and Trowa Barton, an air force pilot, readily dined with the
crew of mismatched war volunteers at Duo's adamant request.
Wufei Chang, the gunner from the USS Arizona, sat sullenly
with them because there were no empty seats left.
A warm camaraderie formed between the new (and in some
cases, old) friends as the talked about the lives they left
behind, brothers and sister, and even favorite baseball
teams. Soon the chat grew more serious; they talked about
their views of the war, why they were at Pearl, and the
possibility of an attack.
"I think there will be one. Most of the entire Pacific
Fleet lies here in Pearl Harbor," said Heero.
"If they destroy the harbor, nothing will stop them
from taking the rest of the Pacific and Asia," said Trowa.
"Looked like we chose the wrong outfit to go to, huh
Judy?" asked Dr. Quatre.
"Yeah looks like. Let's just hope they won't need our
services except for accidents on training missions and
hung-over officers. But It'd sure make your job interesting
then, wouldn't it, Evelyn?" said Judy.
"It'd be quite a story. I'm not saying there should be
an attack though," Evelyn added quickly.
"Of course not," said Wufei. "If there is an attack,
then we'd have to strike back. That is what's just."
"Yeah, they don't want to mess with the United States
Navy!" said Duo. "We'd give them a counterstrike they'd
never forget," he said fiercely.
Part III B - Night of December 6, 1941
On a cool Saturday night following a dinner in the mess
hall, Trowa, Duo, and Wufei headed to the local bar for a
drink. Along with many of their buddies, they began to
relax, partially due to the liquor.
Judy and Quatre finished their rounds at sick bay and
bidded the patients a good night.
Heero sat in his office, later than usual. He
intercepted some coded messages that caught his interest.
As the decoded version of the message was spat out of
'The Colossus,' Heero's eyes widened in surprise as he head.
The codes said to stop peace negotiations at a certain time.
Heero knew something was up. He could feel it in his bones.
"No good will come of this," he thought as he ran to
Commander Wilkens' office, just as he was leaving.
"The Japanese are going to attack us," he said,
slightly breathless.
"Do you have proof?" asked Wilkens as he rubbed his
eyes in exasperation and exhaustion.
"They're planning to cut off diplomatic relations, and
their naval fleet is undetected near Japan. They're probably
headed here," Heero stated. The commander considered
briefly.
"Give me hard evidence first, Heero. Until you have
proof, we'll wait," Wilkens said as he walked down the hall.
Evelyn sat at her desk. Being a reporter on location
here wasn't as exciting as being a reporter in D.C. She
slowly wrote her request to John to place her back at
Washington, where all the real stories were. There was
nothing for her here.