Celia's lips trembled. Speech seemed beyond her as she reached out and grasped both Andrew's hands, Her eyes rose to his, and in them was a look of adoration such as few men in their lifetimes ever see. When she could manage it, her voice heavy with emotion, she declared, "Oh, you beautiful, beautiful man!"
At 10 A.m. a driver and a rented limousine ordered by Andrew were waiting for the family outside the Kahala Hilton Hotel. The late August day was warm, though not oppressive, with a light breeze from the south-Kona weather, Hawaiians called it. A few scattered tufts of cumulus dotted an otherwise clear sky. Earlier, Lisa and Bruce had joined their parents for breakfast in a pleasant suite that overlooked Waialae golf course and the Pacific Ocean to the south. Today and yesterday there had been a steady, happy stream of talk as the four of them filled in, with descriptions, experiences, and animated questioning, the six-month gap during which they had been apart. Lisa had completed, with happy enthusiasm, her freshman year at Stanford. Bruce, soon to enter his final year at the Hill, had applied for entry to Williams College in Massachusetts-itself historic, in keeping with what continued to be his main academic interest. As part of that interest, and in anticipation of today, Bruce announced he had recently completed a study of the 1941 Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. He informed the others matter-of-factly, "If you have any questions, I think I can answer them.”
"You're insufferable!" Lisa had told him.”But since your service is free, I may condescend to use it.”
Celia, while managing to keep up with family banter over the breakfast table, felt within herself an unusual sense of detachment. It was a feeling difficult to define but somehow, on this day, it seemed as if a part of her past had returned-or shortly would-to join the present. On waking this morning she had been conscious of a sense of occasion that had persisted, and she had dressed accordingly, carefully selecting a crisp white pleated skirt and a tailored blouse of navy blue and white. She wore white sandals and would carry a white straw handbag. The effect, which she intended, was neither casual nor unduly formal, but smart and... the words came to her: caring and respectful. Inspecting herself before joining the others, a thought about her father sprang to mind, a thought she tried to resist at first, then allowed to take shape: If only he had lived to see me now-his daughter, with my familyl As if sensing something of Celia's feelings in advance, the others had dressed less casually than usual. Lisa, who the day before had worn jeans, today had on a simple but attractive flowered voile dress; it brought out her young and glowing beauty, and for a moment Celia saw herself at Lisa's age-nineteen-twenty-seven years ago. Andrew had chosen a lightweight suit and, for the first time in many days, was wearing a tie. Her husband, Celia thought, who would be fifty soon and whose hair was now entirely gray, looked increasingly distinguished as years went by. Bruce, still boyish though with serious ways, was handsome in a Hill School blazer with an open shirt. As the Jordan family approached the limousine, the driver touched his uniform cap politely and held a rear door open. He addressed Andrew.”Dr. Jordan? You're going to the Arizona, I believe.”
"That's right.”
Andrew consulted a paper.”But I was told to tell you not to go to the Visitor Center first, but to the private dock of CINCPACFLT.”
The driver raised his eyebrows.”You must be a V.I.P.”
"Not me.”
Andrew smiled and looked toward Celia.”My wife.”
Inside the limousine, as they moved away, Lisa asked, "What's CINC-whatever you said?" It was Bruce who answered.”Commander-in-Chief Pacific Fleet. Hey, Dad, you pulled wires!" Celia gazed at Andrew curiously.”How did you arrange all this?" "I used your name," he told her.”In case you don't know, my dear, it still cuts ice, and you have a lot of people who admire you.”
When the others pressed him, he admitted, "If you must know, I telephoned the Felding-Roth regional manager in Hawaii.”
Celia injected, "Tano Akamura?" "That's right. And he asked me to tell you that you're greatly missed. Anyway, it happens that Akamura's wife has a sister married to an admiral. The rest was easy. So we're going to the Arizona in an admiral's barge.”
"Dad," Bruce said, "that's great staff work!" His father smiled.”Thank you.”
"Thank you, " Celia said. Then she asked, "When you were talking to Tano, did you by any chance ask him how things were?" Andrew hesitated.”You mean at Felding-Roth... and about Montayne?" "Yes-,, He had hoped she wouldn't ask, but answered, "Apparently very well.”
"That's not all you found out," Celia insisted.”Tell me the rest.”
Reluctantly Andrew added, "He said Montayne is a big success and, in his words, 'selling like crazy.' " Celia nodded. It was really no more than everyone expected, and confirmed the earlier news given out after Montayne's launching. But it did reinforce the recent question in her mind: had her resignation been hasty and foolish? Then, determinedly for today-this special day-she pushed such thoughts aside. The limousine moved swiftly, using the Lunalilo and Moanalua freeways and passing downtown Honolulu with its modern high-rise buildings. In about twenty minutes they left the freeway near Aloha Stadium, entering, soon after, the U.S. Navy Reservation at Aiea Bay. The smallish CINCPACFLT private dock was in a pleasant landscaped area used by military families. A fifty-foot navy utility boat-the so-called admiral's barge-was waiting at the dock, its diesel motors running. The boat was operated by two naval ratings in dress whites. A half-dozen other passengers were already seated under a main-deck canopy. One of the ratings, a young woman with "bowhook" duty, cast off the moorings after the Jordans were aboard. The coxswain, on a control bridge midships, eased the boat from the dock and into the busy stream of Pearl Harbor traffic. The breeze felt earlier on land was stronger on the water, and wavelets slapped the utility boat's hull, sending occasional light spray inboard. The harbor water was a dull gray-green, with little or nothing visible beneath the surface. The woman sailor provided a commentary as they circled Ford Island counterclockwise. Andrew, Lisa and Bruce listened attentively, but Celia, preoccupied with private memories, found her thoughts wandering and caught only snatches.
"Sunday morning, December 7, 1941... Japanese dive bombers, with torpedo and fighter planes, and midget submarines, attacked without warning... first wave at 7:55 A.M.... at 8:05 explosions rocked Battleship Row... 8:10, Arizona, hit in the forward magazine, exploded and sank... by 8:12 Utah had rolled over... California and West Virginia settled to the bottom... Oklahoma capsized... casualties, 2,403 killed, 1,178 wounded...”
It was all so long ago, she thought-thirty-six years; better than half a lifetime. Yet never, until this moment, had it seemed so close. The navy boat, rolling in a slight chop near the Pearl Harbor entrance channel, altered course as it rounded the southern tip of Ford Island. Suddenly, directly ahead, was the Arizona Memorial, white in bright sunshine. Here is where it happened, and I have come at last. Lines from a poem sprang to Celia's mind.”Give me my scallop-shell of quiet... And thus 171 take my pilgrimage.” As she looked ahead, beyond the bow of the boat, an incongruous thought intruded: The Memorial was unlike what she had expected Instead, it resembled a long white railway boxcar, deflated in the middle. The commentary again: "The architect's words: 'The form, wherein the structure sags in the center but stands strong and vigorous at the ends, expresses initial defeat and ultimate victory'... Had the architect thought of that before or after? But either way, it didn't matter. The ship was what mattered, and now its shape was becoming visible-incredibly, only a few feet below the surface of the gray-green water. “.