Harper sat down with a hot cup of coffee when there was a knock on the door. She opened the door and standing before her was a man she didn’t recognize.
“Sorry to just spring up on you like this but are you Harper Woods?” said the man.
“Who is asking?” said Harper.
“I’m Kingsley. I recently moved into a house in Lakeside and found this box in the attic. It was addressed to this house,” Kingsley said as he handed a box to her.
“Thanks. Do you know who it’s from?” said Harper curiously.
“Sorry. I have no idea. I didn’t open the box, I’m not one to invade privacy but I do have to get going now. Have a nice day and I hope you find out soon enough,” said Kingsley as he turned away from the door.
Harper walked into her living room and placed the box onto the glass table. She opened the box and a wet, musty smell filled the air. There was a leather bound journal situated at the bottom of the box. She picked up the journal and blew off the dust. She opened the journal and began reading the age crinkled pages. The first page was titled “Alexander Woods”.
It was 1941 and I was located at Ford Island Naval Air Station located in Oahu, Hawaii. It was located in the middle of Pearl Harbor. I was awakened to the sound of explosions bombarding my ears. I quickly got up onto my feet and felt the ground tremble beneath me. I threw on my gear hurriedly with my fingers tightened around my gun and ran outside. There was commotion everywhere. I was aboard the USS Maryland. It was morning and we were under attack. I looked up at the sky and it was swamped with a string of planes heading towards the island. On the side of the plane, it was etched with the “Rising-Sun” emblem. It identified them as Japanese. My 16-inch gun fighting against the massive planes was like a frail branch dwindling at the end of a tree, strong enough to hold a bird, but would snap under the weight of a cat. Another explosion came and glass showered onto me, I felt it piercing my skin. Bullets grazed my face but there were no serious internal injuries. As I was crouching behind a cannon something caught my eye. I ran to the flag deck and my gun clattered to the floor as I stared in shock.
I had to squint hard but I could make out the person’s figure and it was Lennie, Lennie Salvatore. I was sure of it. I could never mistaken his burly shape and his golden blond hair. My heart was beating so rapidly that I felt like it was going to pop out of me. We had both enlisted to be in the army together during the same time at the age of 17 and we both came from a small town in California. He had enlisted to a medic because he wanted to help people. He was one of the only people here that made this home-far-away-from-home feel somewhat like home. We had talked about our high hopes about how one day we’d return to our small town just as we came.
“When we finally go home, we should go to Ruby’s...