Sunday, May 5, 1968

from '68 - A Novel

John Harris stood on the sidewalk on the north side of N Street, taking in the well-maintained vista of Capitol Park in Sacramento. He took Martha’s hand as they started down the broad walkway that led past the east entrance to the Capitol Building. They came to a spot near an ancient magnolia tree and John came to a halt. Across the grass and through the trees, he could see the landscaped grotto that housed the monument.

            "There it is, Martha." John gestured toward the structure in the grotto.

            “I see it, honey. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Just give me a few minutes.”

He was there at his doctor’s suggestion to confront his demons, to see if they could be beaten back, or at least controlled. If he could do this, then maybe the nightmares would subside. Maybe he could even sleep through the night. He continued north along the walk and turned right onto a paved path named for former governor Hiram Johnson. And then he was standing in front of the monument to the USS California.

The California was John’s ship. He’d joined the crew in January of 1944 when she sailed from Bremerton, Washington. The Puget Sound Navy Yard had repaired the damage sustained at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and the California would go on to fight in battles all across the Pacific, exacting a heavy measure of revenge against the Japanese. Her great 14-inch guns became an important part of the battery that would be arrayed to pound each successive island before the Marines went ashore, firing shells the weight of a small car against the shoreline defenses.

Then came the day, the battle of Lingayen Gulf, when a kamikaze came screaming out of the clouds, leveled off and roared into the California’s superstructure. That was January 6, 1945. Forty-four men died that day; more than one hundred and fifty were wounded. Emergency repairs were made on the spot; ship and crew fought on. More than two weeks later, when the job was done, the California steamed back to Puget Sound for permanent repairs. John was reassigned and he finished the war out of harm’s way. But the California returned to service in the Pacific, first at Okinawa and, finally, supporting occupation forces in Japan.

For John Harris, it was only the beginning. He would relive January 6, 1945, over and over in his dreams. He would see himself frantically feeding ammunition to the anti-aircraft gun, see the kamikaze glide into a level path headed for the ship, see the gunner firing desperately at the plane, and watch helplessly as it sailed overhead to explode against the ship. In his dream, he could feel the heat from the fireball, and he could hear his shipmates scream in agony amid the flames.

Now he was standing in front of the monument. It was a simple structure: two square stone columns supporting a stone cap across the top with the inscription: U.S.S. CALIFORNIA. From the crosspiece hung the ship’s bell, its clapper removed. The California was decommissioned in 1947 and sold for scrap in 1959. This bell was all that remained of a once mighty warship. The carved legend on the left column read:

ONLY BATTLESHIP BUILT ON THE PACIFIC COAST

LAUNCHED AT MARE ISLAND NAVY YARD NOV. 20, 1919

SHIPS BELL DEDICATED AND RUNG FOR THE LAST TIME

BY GOVERNOR EARL WARREN OCT. 27, 1947.

On the right column, the World War II battles were listed in order:

PEARL HARBOR/MARIANAS/LEYTE GULF/SURIGAO/

LINGAYEN GULF/OKINAWA/JAPAN.

John read the inscription on the columns, then read it again. When he got to the line RUNG FOR THE LAST TIME, he felt his blood begin to boil. Rung for the last time … It should be rung every year on November 20, the day she was launched at Mare Island.  Rung for the last time … It should be rung every December 7, once for each man who died at Pearl. Rung for the last time … It should be rung every January 6, for the men who died in the flames at Lingayen Gulf. His chest was heaving now, his breath coming in great gasps. Sold for scrap in 1959. Sold for scrap? How do you sell steel for scrap when it has been washed in the blood of brave men? She should be afloat today, with a special berth at Mare Island, open to the public. Let people stand under those guns and imagine the roar and how they lit up the night sky. Let them stand on the spot where the bomb penetrated her hull at Pearl. Let them touch the scorched and twisted steel plate where the kamikaze hit. Let them see, and touch … and maybe even feel.

His breathing was returning to normal now. He removed a handkerchief from his back pocket to mop his forehead and dab his eyes. He felt Martha touch his elbow gently.

“John … are you okay, honey?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m fine now.” He took two steps forward and placed the palm of his right hand against the surface of the bell. Finally, he stepped away. “Okay, Martha. Let’s go.”

She wrapped her right arm around his ample waist as they walked away, heading back to N Street and the entrance to the park.

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