Thread Of Life

-PORTLAND, MAINE EXPOSITION CENTER, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 11TH, 1941—A LITTLE AFTER, 9:00 PM-

Within another two minutes a happy commotion was under way on center stage. Ansel Stevens, of Falmouth Foreside, with WGAN’s ‘Mark the Shark’ by his side, made the long awaited announcement amidst the clatter and clamor of Benny Goodman roadies, and stagehands, as quickly, the Goodman stage was set.

Ansel leaned into the super sensitive big Electro-Voice microphone and shouted. “OKAY ALL YOU SWINGERS, THE MOMENT HAS ARRIVED!!!” His loud voice echoed from the Expo’s rafters.

He continued with a huge smile as ‘Mark the Shark’, standing right behind Ansel on Ansel’s left kept looking to the left of the stage. “I KNOW IT’S NOT ON TIME AND WE’RE A LIITLE LATE, BUT WITH THE GREAT BENNY G,……LATER, IS BETTER THAN,…..NEVVVERRR!!! Ansel shouted louder if even that was possible.

A huge crowd erupted in cheers, and hoorays from every square foot at the big Portland, Maine Expo. “Sing, Sing, Sing” Benny’s great mumber one hit from 1937 played loudly, filling the place, accompanying Ansel’s praise.

Ernie and Sara, Tommy and Doris, Lionel and Sandy, Ray and Anne, and now even Sam, right behind them, joining his friends, crowded together pushing as close as possible to center stage. It was shoulder to shoulder, and body to body, as all eyes glued to their right of the stage, and the steps that led up to the stage platform, impatiently focused, unblinking—waiting.

Then, as if magic was in the air, Ansel stretched out his left arm, fully extended, and shouted, “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!, I GIVE YOU THE ONE AND ONLY!,—THE GREATEST OF THE GREAT!—MR. BENNY GOODMANNN!!!”

Benny emerged big time, on the top step, and onto the stage, his mecca, with a little hop and run. All bedlam broke loose. Cheering and hooraying, and “BENNY,….BENNY,….BENNY”, chants filled the Expo from every square inch of floor space.

He was next to Ansel’s side in a flash waving with his left hand to the great throng of his loyal fans, while in his right hand he carried his “Parisian”, his, “Licorice Stick”, his clarinet. His recent choice of late of the instrument that had brought him fortune, and fame, and his adoring fans, untold happiness.

Ansel smiling, looking at his friend Benny, threw his left arm around Benny’s shoulders and loudly spoke into the Electro-Voice mike. “SO GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN BENNY,…..SO DAMNED,…..GOOD!!” More screaming followed Ansel’s warm welcome, and beaming smile.

“AND SO GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN, TOO, ANSEL,…..SO DAMNED,…….GOOD!!” Benny responded in a huge smiling, laughing, joking manner, bringing an outburst of racuous laughter from the crazed, wild crowd.

Outbursts again of hoorays, yeas, and more “BENNY,…..BENNY,…..BENNY!!”, followed with wild frantic whooping it up.

“WELL BENNY, THEY’RE ALL HERE, WAITING JUST FOR YOU!!!” Ansel roared, boasted and smiled, waving his right arm out over the throng, over all the cheering, laughing, listening to every word, arduous fans. “Sing, Sing, Sing,” played on.

“ANSEL!” Benny shouted loudly, with great respect for his fans, his orchestra, and his good friend, and then went on. “LOOKS LIKE YOU’VE BROUGHT MY ORCHESTRA,” as he waved his right arm in a big sweep over his band members that were quickly moving into their stage positions; all of them smiling enormously, at the exuberant waiting lovers of their music, and then after a quick moment added, “AND ME, EXACTLY WHAT WE LIVE FOR, MY GOOD FRIEND,….TO MAKE MUSIC,….AND,” at the top of his voice, “MAKE EVERYONE,…..HAPPY!!!”

Once again cheering, hooraying, and all bedlam broke loose and shook the very rafters of the Portland, Maine Exposition Center.

Benny Goodman, the medicine-man of the 1930’s and 40’s, U.S. citizen, patriotic and pure American, and one of the greatest big-band leaders of the modern times; the “King of Swing”, launched the “Rocket”, the “Missile”, the 37“Sound and Swing” of his, to be time immortal, music.

He stuck his right hand into the air, loudly whooping himself, leaning over into the microphone…….”SO LET’S—GET—TO IT!!!”.

Waving his right arm around in a circle, fully extended like he was reaching to touch heaven, he then brought it down quickly to ignite his orchestra’s famous downbeat as Benny and his renowned orchestra blasted off into his unforgettable signature theme of “Let’s Dance”

Immediately swinging, dancing, hip-hip hooraying, craziness, and untold excitement erupted everywhere, all across the big dance floor, and once again, even if just for a temporary time, and fix, all, was well again.

Every problem facing, engulfing, the ultra contemporary, new-fashioned 1940’s, had suddenly fallen from the shoulders of all there that night. “Let’s Dance” and Benny Goodman carried everybody, every member of the “Greatest Generation”, at the Expo, away on a cloud and once again a “Thread Of Life” wound its way through every soul linking them all in memories of a happier past, and It gave courage to everyone, to face a frightening and unknown, of what they didn’t know at the time, earth-shaking-to-its-very-core, undeniable future.

-TUESDAY DECEMBER 2ND, 1941—0333 HOURS-

“Rather get there in one piece than not at all!” very softly entered Jones’ subconscious mind. He was sound asleep but now felt a very slight disturbance. He moved his head back and forth slowly, eyes closed, like he was trying to avoid a pesky fly.

It was cramped sleeping quarters on the USS Battleship Arizona (BB39). Jones was asleep in his bunk only inches above and off a little to the right side of Barnes, whom also was deep asleep. Still the young twenty-one year old superior “Search and Destroy” specialist, Ensign Kermit Jones, had finally been able to somehow in the past two months, since the first of October, start to feel peace and purpose, once again, and began to piece his bruised, shattered life back together. He twitched slightly, but slept on.

(Exactly two and one-half minutes sleepily passed by for Jones)

“Rather get there in one piece than not at all!” came louder in his sleepy subconscious mind. Disturbed more now, the young U.S. Navy diver/swimmer moved his head back and forth a little faster, eyes still closed, zippered tight. His whole body moved jerking in response to a message he seemed to be receiving from beyond.

It was very warm on the battleship Arizona, sitting docked at quay #3 at Pearl Harbor and beads of sweat appeared on his strong muscular upper body. His torso started showing moisture. Being bare chested all he and his fellow seamen slept in, was their skivvies, their shorts,…..their underware.

(Exactly, another two and one-half minutes ticked by again, restlessly)

“RATHER GET THERE IN ONE PIECE THAN NOT AT ALL!”, came again; same message, only much louder. This time Jones heard the strange message from beyond in a female voice. He jerked his head back and forth faster, more frantically, his eyes still welded closed. His legs were beginning to shake and tremble. He began sweating more profusely.

Now, really disturbed and nearly awake, he subconsciously, vaguely, thought he recognized the familiar sounding voice.

(Exactly, another two and one-half minutes passed by, for the third time and he was now in a wild, nearly awake, fretful sleep!)

Again much louder one more time the familiar female voice tried to convince the young “Search and Destroy” specialist to “WATCH OUT!”….then,….“BE CAREFUL!”…then,…”TAKE CARE!”……then,……”BEWARE!”……and then with one final blast,…..”BEEEWAREEEHHHH!!”

Now right on the cusp of waking, Jones trembled throughout his whole being as he jerked his head back and forth crazily, wildly, pouring out sweat. He began to moan and then bounce up and down, gently at first, then more forced, as if being pushed roughly, prodded by a ghostly presence.

His eyes that had been buttoned up tight, unopened even a slit, now were finally starting to slightly be forced open.

(Eaxactly, now for the fourth unbearable time, two and one-half minutes passed by, again. Irritable half-sleep, moans, and fears, deluged Jones’ brain.)

Then louder still, very loud indeed, a mixed message crashed the opposite sides of his intellect, relentlessly, back and forth repeatedly causing him to jerk his head wildly, back and forth in quick frenzied snaps, as he tried to regain consciousness and wake up.

His chest became shiny wet as he dripped in sweat. His legs and feet trembled and bounced, right along with his upper torso, and his muscular six pack abdomen rolled like storm churned waves.

Jones dreaded, subconsciously feeling almost like ducking, but aware there was no place to duck, now barely cognizant, and starting to awaken tried to ready his head for what he knew was surely on its way.

And then there it was in all its blaring clarity. “IN ONE PIECE!”…..then after only more of the same agonizing moments, once again, ”IN ONE PIECE!”, crashed through and collided with the walls of his brain.

Then in one big scream, “IN—ONE—PIECE !!!”, stopped his wildly jerking head as he lay trembling, way out of human control, eyes beginning to open a sliver, with his face facing up.

And then one more loud brain-crashing warning,…..“BE CAREFUL!!......BEEWAAAREHHHH!!!”

Dead silence ensued, for only a few moments. Jones lay shuddering, quivering, waiting, stunned with warning.

Then it came, just what he was dreading with one final clamorous blast through his brain. “WATCH OUT,......JONES!!!”

Shouting his name the female spirit from beyond positively, shocked him with terror, violently into consciousness. Complete foreboding and dread overtook his mind. He sat bolt upright , moaned out loudly, eyes now wide opened, staring straight ahead, with sweat dripping off his body everywhere. He trembled and shook out of control as he cried out loudly, his eyes full of tears,…….“R O S A L E E E E!!!”

Barnes, his partner, sleeping within arm’s reach, shook his shoulder cautiously and asked hoarsley, “hey K,…..buddy……you okay?” He strained to hear his partner answer.

Jones faintly replied, “yeah,….yeah,…..I’m okay.” It took him a few seconds to realize just where he was, as he gathered himself together, as much as was possible, and once again, a little stronger, barely audible,…..I’m okay T.,…..yeah,…..I’m okay. Thanks.”

He stared straight ahead looking at nothing, then after a few seconds fell on his back still trembling slightly as he mouthed quietly, moaning, eyes wide open,…..“Rosalee!!”

“I Hear A Rhapsody” by Charlie Barnett played softly over the small table radio.

Rosalee had finally broken through.

-JUST BEFORE 0800 HOURS SUNDAY DECEMBER 7TH, FROM THE NEARLY DESTROYED USS ARIZONA BRIDGE-

Both Lieutenant Commanders looked from the bow to mid-ship in horror. It was an onslaught they never thought they would ever witness, and now hopefully, live through. Subconsciously, again, it was crazy and really impossible to put out of their minds as it sunk in deep to their psyches, that maybe they just wouldn’t make it through the whole, exploding way out of control, insane scenario. A thought that was crossing their minds with increasing steps of terror, and to top it all off, they were losing their footing fast trying to hold on, slipping and sliding everywhere, grabbing the bridge’s railing in desperate claw holds, using both hands, cigarettes dangling from their mouths, making their way across the bridge to the hazardous steps down.

Arizona was under siege as never before in Her twenty-six plus year history. Kneeland and Newcastle were pretty much falling on their knees, in an all out effort of trying to stay aboard the big ship as the “Kates” bore on determined to torpedo and blast the Arizona right out of the waters of Pearl Harbor.

Then as if on cue, another deadly 410 millimeter, 797 killogram bomb struck the 5” anti-aircraft gun, mid-ship, port side, and the gun went up in an explosion of fireworks that spelled it out that the end of Arizona might now just be in sight.

Newcastle screamed to Kneeland to be heard over the humming, buzzing “Kates” that were now flying in on them at only a hundred feet above their heads, at earth shaking speeds. “OH MY GOD, COMMANDER!! WE ARE DEFINTELY UNDER ATTACK,….BIG TIME!!! NO DOUBT ABOUT IT,….AT ALL!!!” He didn’t even turn to face him. His eyes were glued to the skies.

Their running fantasizing, wild imaginations painted the whole picture black with no light at the end of the tunnel. Plodding one slippery step after another, Newcastle was now followed on his heels, by Kneeland.

Somewhere in all the crazy melee they had switched places on the rail. Perhaps Kneeland had always felt better bringing up the rear, where he could protect his brother in front of him.

“HOLY,…..MOTHER OF JEESUSSS!!! OUR GUYS AREN’T EVEN GETTING A CHANCE TO FIGHT BACK!!!” Kneeland shouted back. “HOLY MOTHER—FUCKING SHITTT!!! THIS IS REALLY GETTING BAD…..ANDY!!! REALLY BAD!!!!”

Newcastle turned to Kneeland, “I KNOW, I KNOW,….BROTHER!!! YOU CAN SURE SAY THAT,…..AGAIN!!!” He shouted so loud he lost his cigarette over the rail, while Kneeland’s still hung out of his mouth. Kneeland wasn’t even puffing his anymore, he had completely forgotten all about it with all the craziness a excitement, engulfing them entirely, with no way to turn, and no way out. His butt just kept bobbing up and down in his mouth. He was terribly shaken and really out of it, but still managed to maintain some semblance of clear thinking.

Newcastle was treading as if he was going to step on a land mine. He wasn’t even sure if he was heading in the right direction.

He recaptured some composure as he looked down. “OUR MAIN DECK LOOKS FUCKED TO ME, STEVE!!! WE’LL BE LUCKY IF THERE’S ANYTHING LEFT OF IT BY THE TIME WE GET DOWN THERE,…..YOU KNOW!!!....YOU THINK?!!!!” He yelled back to Kneeland and couldn’t help but think his friend’s and his bold attempts were going to wash into the burning harbor just like the crew’s bravery on the USS Oklahoma.

“WE STILL GOTTA GO FOR IT ANDY…..AND YES, I THINK,…..RATHER THAN THAT,….I KNOW TOO OUR MAIN DECK IS FUCKED,….FOR SURE!!!!” And shouting one more positive thought that was more bold face fact, than a guess. “ANDY,….IF WE DON’T GO FOR IT, AND TRY TO HELP,…..WE’RE GOING TO BE FUCKED TOO,…..AND BLOWN RIGHT OFF THIS MOTHER—FUCKING BRIDGE,…..FOR SURE!!! AT LEAST WE STILL GOT A CHANCE!!!....YOU KNOW?!!!”

Kneeland was out of breath and he hung onto the rail with dear life as he and Newcastle were about to take their last steps to the tricky steps down.

“I AGREE TO THAT STEVE,….I AGREE,….FOR SURE!!! LET’S GO FOR IT,…..ALL THE WAY!!!!” Newcastle shouted back, and then turned to face Kneeland. Some inner instinct compelled him to do just that, right at that moment. Call it consequence, call it destiny, call it fate.

He shouted for all he was worth, as if he could prevent from happening, the most horrible scenario, by far, of the whole disastrous morning. “STEVE!!!.....DUCK!!!.....DUHHHCK!!!.....DUHHHHCKK STEVE!!!.....NOW!!!!

And there it was, as bold and deadly as could be, as if “SATAN’ was flying it himself. A Mitsubishi A6M, a “Zeke”, only a mere 250 or so feet away, had appeared out of nowhere dead on, in Newcastle’s line of vision. Caught in his sight, right over Kneeland’s left shoulder the “Zeke” was heading straight at their very spot on the bridge, right where they were moving furtively towards their escape, their way down, out of range, out of the “Zeke’s” sights, but they still remained one step away, from so-called safety.

Newcastle swore he could see the want and need to kill in the Japanese pilot’s evil smiling face and staring eyes of death, as he aimed in bloodlust for more killing. His 7.7 mm machine gun cannons, both of them, pointed at the defenceless very slow moving, slipping, U.S. Naval Lieutenant Commanders.

Before he could scream out another warning to Kneeland it all happened shockingly, brutally, and savagely. He stood frozen in his tracks, gaping in unbelief, at the speeding, diving “Zeke”, certain that he and his long time buddy were at the end of their rope, with death closing in on them at the rate of the fastest speeding machine on earth.

Kneeland caught on too late to his friend’s warning and his timely reaction, in no way humanly possible, could not be fast enough.

All the both of them heard was ‘RATA TAT, RATA TAT, RATA TAT, RATA TAT TAT TAT, RATA TAT, RATA TAT, RATA TAT TAT TAT.’

-PEARL’S OILY, BURNING WATERS—AFTER 0900 HOURS, DECEMBER 7TH, 1941-

It had been over twenty-five minutes since Kekoa and his now, new U.S. Navy friends had taken the “Kona Lana” to the water to rescue drowning sailors. It was 0905 hours and more “Zekes and Kates” had begun to return in a second wave. However, this time their concentration was focused on Hickam Field, much more than the Navy ships docked up and down the quays of Ford Island.

It got feverish and scary again, but this time Jones, R., and Kekoa, felt they could handle all the commotion and the second wave of the attack with cool heads and steady progress. Unspoken between the three of them they knew they would have to return to solid ground soon. They now had thirteen rescued sailors aboard and a few of them were in desperate need of medical assistance. It was just that every time they thought they would head to shore, another sailor needing immediate help would pop up, and had to be pulled to safety.

Jones still hadn’t found Barnes. He didn’t even find a trace or piece of anything from Barnes’ that he remotely knew, belonged to him. Debris and personal items flooded the dirty water and R., and he continually looked over most of everything, with curiosity and question, that had washed up against the “Kona Lana”, hoping to find something, anything that they remembered belonging to any of their friends. However, most of it was just regular sailor stuff, and personal items that had been blown overboard from all the bombing and explosions, and now, had no value. There really was nothing at all that they found to be an item they personally recognized.

And still, no Ensign Thomas Barnes.

Jones searched the black water, now more intensely, still not willing to give up. C’mon T.,…..c’mon! I’m here T.! Charlie R.’s here with me. C’mon Tommy,…..where are you? Where are youuuu?

He became more agitated and nervous as the thought of just maybe, his best friend Tommy, had lost his life, and was no more amongst the living.

That thought relentlessly overworked his anxious mind, and he started shouting, low key at first. “TOMMY!!......TOMMMYYY!!!......TOMMMMYYYY!!!!” And then they listened.

Kekoa kept the “Kona Lana” still in the choppy water. All three of them stood very still, unbreathing and quiet. All that was heard was moaning from the hurt sailors, that they had rescued, and explosions that now sounded distant, far away from their ears, as they concentrated on hoping to hear Barnes respond.

Nothing,…..no response.

Again, this time much louder. “TOMMY!!.....TOMMMYYY…..BARNESSSS!!!.....TOMMMMMYYYYY!!!!”, came from a very upset and stressed Jones.

Once again the three of them waited, not making a sound, and listened, straining to hear a response.

It seemed as if they waited standing like pillars forever for over ten minutes. In reality it was less than a minute and it became more and more evident as the moments ticked by, a very believable assurance, that Tommy Barnes was not going to answer his best friends shouts and cries out to him.

Still no response and their expressions grew grim, full of dour.