Passage

Joanna transcribed the words, entering them onto Carl’s computer file along with “water” and “oh, grand” and Guadalupe’s comments about his movements. Looking through it, she realized she hadn’t transcribed his humming. It must be on one of the dozens of tapes piled in a shoe box she hadn’t gotten to yet and wouldn’t any time soon. The project tapes took precedence, and conducting interviews, and scheduling. And rescheduling.

Mrs. Haighton couldn’t come on Friday — this time it was the Art Museum Gala — and Amelia needed to reschedule, too. She had another big exam coming up, and her professor had scheduled a review session she couldn’t miss, and no, she couldn’t do it Thursday either. She had a test in statistics that day.

“How many exams do they have in college these days?” Richard exploded when Joanna told him. “I thought midterms were over. What’s going on? Has she gotten a new boyfriend?”

It’s more likely she’s given up on you ever noticing her, Joanna thought, because although Amelia was increasingly perky and smiling, Richard was totally preoccupied with his failure to get Mrs. Troudtheim under. “I don’t know what else to try,” he told Joanna, exasperated.

The worst part of Mrs. Troudtheim was that if they’d had a full slate of volunteers he’d simply have declared her nonviable and gone on to other subjects. But there were no other subjects to go on to. Joanna was obviously never going to get Mrs. Haighton in for an interview, let alone a session, and Mr. Pearsall had called to say that his father, the one who had never been sick a day in his life, had had a stroke, and that he was flying out to Ohio and didn’t know when he would be back. Which left Mr. Sage the Silent, the increasingly hard-to-get Amelia Tanaka, and Mr. Wojakowski. At least he was available. And more than eager to talk.

“I was in the tunnel,” he said, beginning his fifth account. They were alone in the lab. Richard, eager to get his bloodwork analyzed, or maybe unwilling to listen to another of Mr. Wojakowski’s rambling stories, had taken the blood down to the lab himself.

“It was dark, I couldn’t see anything, but I wasn’t scared. I had a kind of peaceful feeling, like when you know something’s going to happen, but you don’t know what, and you don’t know when. Like the day they bombed Pearl.” I knew he’d find a way to work the Yorktown into this, Joanna thought. “I can still remember that morning. It was a Sunday—”

Joanna nodded, wondering if she should try to get him back on track, or if that would just send him veering off on some other story. He usually did eventually work his way back to the question she’d asked. She leaned her chin on her hand and prepared to wait.

“I’m coming back from shore leave in Virginia Beach — the Yorktown was in Norfolk — and I saw this sailor up on the island — ” He fished in his pocket and brought out the tattered picture of the Yorktown. “That’s the island,” he said, pointing at the tall tower in the middle of the ship. It had three cross-barred masts that Joanna assumed were radio or radar antennae, and an assortment of ladders.

“See, that’s the radar mast, and there’s the bridge,” Mr. Wojakowski said, pointing to them. “So, anyway, he looks like he’s going to break his neck, he’s coming down off the island so fast, and he’s got a paper clutched in his right hand.”

He folded up the picture and put it carefully back in his wallet. “I should’ve known something was up — the only thing up that ladder was the radio shack — but I didn’t even think about that. I just stood there, waiting to see if he broke his neck, and when he didn’t, I went on down belowdecks to change out of my civvies, and then I heard ’em announcing over the PA that the Japs had bombed Pearl Harbor, and I knew what he must’ve been carrying was a telegram.” He shook his head at his own slowness. “I had that same kind of feeling in the tunnel, waiting for something to happen, and not knowing what or when.”

He looked expectantly at Joanna, but she wasn’t listening. She was trying to remember what he’d said that first day, when she’d asked him about his age. He had told her he’d signed up the day after Pearl Harbor, she was sure of it.

“Some of the guys didn’t believe it, even when they heard it over the PA,” Mr. Wojakowski said. “Woody Pikeman comes in and says, ‘Who’s the wiseguy?’ meaning the PA announcement. ‘The Emperor Hirohito,’ I says.”

“Mr. Wojakowski,” Joanna said, “I just remembered a meeting I have to be at.” She stood up and switched off the minirecorder. “If you don’t mind—”

“Sure, Doc,” he said. “You want me to come back later?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know how long the meeting will take.” She scooped up the recorder and her notebook.

“I’ve got lots more to tell you,” he said.

“I’ll call you and set up another time for us to finish your account,” she said firmly.