The Homecoming 24

The Homecoming

Kim...

'What an amazing display of patriotism,' she thought. Glancing around she stated to no one in particular, "Damn, I'm glad I got here when I did."

Kim Nolan stood at the front of a cheering throng of people, awaiting the arrival of the

USS Abraham Lincoln

, a US Navy aircraft carrier. From her vantage point along the pier of North Island Naval Air Station on Coronado, she could see the vessel as it steamed slowly through the mouth of the anchorage, several miles in the distance. She had known this would be a big deal, but she had underestimated just how many people were going to be here.

"Ain't that the truth," shouted an older woman standing next to her in a flowery dress and wide-brimmed hat. Kim could detect a Texas twang to her voice.

Standing on tiptoes to look round, she estimated there was likely more than two-thousand people present for these festivities. Young and old, men, women and children of various ages were all waiting for friends and loved ones to arrive. Most were excited, but a few of the children were beginning to melt down, with the over stimulation of all the noise and frivolity.

It was a crystal-clear, late-January morning in San Diego, California and a slight breeze was blowing in off the ocean, making her glad she had chosen to wear a wind breaker. She wore a snug, white cotton tank top and khaki shorts. Her legs were a little cold, but she could tolerate it. The morning sun was at their back, so there was no need for sunglasses.

Leaning against the barricade to flex her legs, she was glad she had also chosen sandals instead of shoes, as she knew she was going to be standing in one place for a long time and heels would have killed her feet at this point.

Living up the coast in La Jolla, she'd driven down the previous evening and stayed at a nearby hotel. She had slept fitfully, in anticipation for this homecoming. She was excited about the day and the possibilities that were in store. Rising early and foregoing her ritual morning run, she had showered, dressed, and ate a quick continental breakfast the hotel offered, then checked out to drive the few miles to North Island.

When she parked in the visitors' lot and walked the short distance to the pier, there was only a handful of spectators and workers preparing things for the festivities. She had a rolled banner in her arms, and gleefully smiled, to see she had arrived early enough to stake her territory out that had been recommended to her. It was also nice that other early arrivals had some tape, so that she could secure it to the fence, in front of where she was going to be standing.

Glancing over the railing at it, it read "Welcome Home AB1 D. Whitman," in big and bold, red, and blue lettering. A moment of nervousness crossed her mind as she thought, 'Shit. I hope the lettering is big enough for him to see from the flight deck.' Banishing the apprehension and deciding there was nothing she could do about it now, she decided to just enjoy the moment and chatted with the spectators around her, finding out where they were from and who they were here to see.

Having never been on a military base before, she had been nervous driving through the gate and she was quite taken aback at the professional demeanor of the young female gate guard, in her uniform and packing the weapons that were holstered on her utility belt. She smiled at the thought of being referred to as 'ma'am.' In her line of work as marketing executive in the film industry, she was called Ms. or simply by her first name. Occasionally she had been called Miss, if a guy was trying to butter her up, to get into her pants.

At 42, she still had the looks of someone much younger. What she lacked in height, being just over five-feet tall, she made up for in her other assets, with short, golden-blonde hair, blue eyes, and a captivating smile. She was a California girl through and through. In her line of work, she knew that looks were everything, so she worked hard to keep herself in shape. Running, the gym and a variety of outdoor sports had left her petite frame lean, well-toned, and tanned.

She had married young and had a daughter with someone she thought she'd loved; however, she came to realize he was just a big, stupid kid. He didn't want a family and selfishly cared only about himself. When trying to reconcile things didn't work, she kicked him out and moved on with her life. Being a single, working mom had been tough, but she had pulled through. Her daughter Karen was now twenty-two and was a success in her own right, living in the Dallas, Texas area.

"Who are you here to see," she loudly asked the woman in the flowery dress and hat, over the din and tumult.

"My boy," the older woman responded proudly, as she reached into her handbag, withdrew a smart phone, and showed her a picture of a young sailor in his dress uniform. She went onto introduce herself as Alma, then described how her son was a young airman working on the flight deck.

That peaked Kim's attention. "I wonder if my friend knows him," she stated and then finished with, "He works with the catapults. They shoot the planes into the air."

"My son, Mickey, works on the arresting gear," replied Alma and observed, "That's on the back end of the ship."

Glancing around at the crowd, Kim philosophically observed with a smile, "I imagine everyone here is excited to see someone."

"I'm sure they are," agreed Alma with a guffaw, "The damn thing has been gone for ten fricking months," she drawled, and then added, "'Excuse my French. It just pisses me off."

Shaking her head in disgust and wiping some tears from her eyes, she added, "Outside of boot camp, this is the longest he's been away from home in his life. This is his first command."

She reached out a consoling hand to pat the older woman's back and then turned to look at the ship, she noticed it was growing larger. 'Ten-months,' she mused, 'A hell of a long time to be away from home, that's for sure.' As the Navy band began to strike up

Anchor's Away

, she thought back on what had gotten her to this moment.

- - - - -

Six-months before she had been walking though one of the malls in La Jolla on her way to meet friends, for coffee. Passing by the information desks, a table festooned in patriotic red, white, and blue and manned by two older couples wearing blue and gold business attire caught her eye. She slowed her pace and stopped at the table. After greeting her, the couples introduced themselves and said they were members of the local Navy League, supporting something called Operation: Home Front. They were looking for people to exchange letters with crew members of an aircraft carrier that had recently left on deployment and would be arriving in San Diego.

Kim had mentioned that when she was younger, her school class had done the something similar during the First Gulf War. It had been fun, and she'd felt like it had been a tremendous service. Upon hearing this, one of the smiling silver-haired wives, commented that she looked too young to remember the pivotal event. Smiling and thanking her for the compliment, she thought, 'What the hell.' It had been quite a while since she had dated anyway and thinking it might be a fun way to meet someone new. She accepted a flyer and took out her checkbook and donated to the organization. Folding the paper into quarters, she stuck it in her purse and journeyed on to her meeting. She'd forgotten about it, until she was cleaning the handbag out a few days later.

Feeling guilty, she took a pad of paper and wrote out a quick letter of encouragement, signed it with a flourish, placed it in an envelope and mailed it to the address from the flyer. Amazingly, six-weeks later she was looking through her mail after returning home from work and among the circulars and other junk mail was an envelope from the ship. She set the letter on the glass coffee table in her living room, changed into her workout wear, fulfilled her evening ritual, and ran five miles. Returning home sweating, she showered quickly dressed in some comfortable clothes, ate a quick meal, and cleaned the dishes. All the while she wondered who the letter might be from.

Walking into the spacious living room of her up-scale condo and pouring a drink from her bar, she then sat down and reclining on the couch, opened the letter and read it. "Dear Ms. Nolan," it began and that's how her relationship with Dan Whitman had begun. Sipping the whiskey, she re-read his letter and was enthralled at how engaging and articulate he was.

Before going to bed that evening, she opened her laptop and searched the internet for information on the ship and was amazed to learn it was not just on deployment, it was on a cruise around the world. It had left Norfolk, Virginia a few months before and was serving in the Middle East and was set to arrive in San Diego sometime in the fall. "Holy shit," she exclaimed.

The next evening when she came home from work and after her ritual, she decided to binge on You-Tube, watching everything she could about aircraft carriers and the ship itself. She was amazed by what she saw. Picking up Dan's letter, she re-read it and learned he worked on the flight deck, as a senior enlisted man on the forward catapults. The information she had seen had told her the flight deck of an aircraft carrier was one of most dangerous places in the world to work. Before she realized it, it was well past midnight.

Before this, she had never been much of a letter writer. But as a result, she began a new ritual. On her way home from work the following day, she stopped by a stationary shop and picked-up some nice paper and matching envelopes. On Saturday mornings, she would rise and go on her morning run. After returning home, she'd take her morning coffee on her balcony overlooking the ocean and write a letter to Dan.

Not telling him her precise age, she had fibbed a bit and penned, "I'm a little older than you," when she replied to the letter, in which he described himself. He said he was a tall African American, who was 27 at the time. She sent a picture of herself, from her formal business portfolio. In the next letter he sent one of himself wearing his formal Navy dress uniform. She admired his strong features, bright smile, and the dimples the gesture produced. She framed the photo and going forward when she wrote him, she would keep his picture next to her stationary.

They did occasionally email, but Dan had said their internet access was spotty and that he really enjoyed the personal touch of writing. When she read that, she too smiled. This experience had awakened something within her that had been asleep for quite some time -- Romance.

Over the course of their correspondence, she shared information about herself and her life. After she shared snippets with friends, they were excited for her and wanted to help take some casual photos, so they could be sent to him, showing where she lived on the coast and some of the things she enjoyed. To top things off, she then wrote a brief note on the back of each with a sharpie.

He followed suit by sending her pictures back of life on the ship and from a few visits they had made to overseas ports of call. She shared several of the hobbies she enjoyed and, he too enjoyed running, rock climbing and working out. They shared their music and book preferences. His was broad and varied -- from hard rock to classical and histories. Hers were classic rock and spy novels.

In September, she sent him a birthday gift -- the new history by Brian Kilmeade, a new cd from one of the groups he had mentioned liking and some bags of snacks along with a letter. She dabbed a little perfume on it. He had informed her that he was filing some important paperwork concerning his career. She thought the gesture would be a way of telling him, he was in her thoughts concerning the decision. The response brought tears to her eyes, when she learned the ship's deployment had been extended, but the encouragement of her thoughtful addition -- the perfume -- had really bolstered his spirits.

Having immersed herself in Navy popular culture, she watched several movies featuring aircraft carriers. Kim had asked questions about how real some of the things she saw were. Dan had replied, clarifying a few things, and said everyone was given a call sign or nickname of some kind. He thought she would enjoy being dubbed 'Sunshine.'

She had hosted a small viewing party with her friends for the Army-Navy game, decorating her living room in blue and gold for the event. She hadn't been into watching football before this, but it was a blast with her friends, and she made her filming debut, by making a video for Dan. It was during this event she decided that she wanted to see him when the ship returned and asked if he was open to that. He replied that he was thrilled that she wanted to see him. She then started making plans for his return.

A few days later, her and a couple of friends produced a spicy, short video and saved it to a thumb drive, which she immediately sent out as his Christmas present.

About ten-days before the ship's arrival, she had been sitting on her balcony, thinking of him, and enjoying an afternoon cup of coffee. While she stared out at the ocean and enjoyed a moment of serenity and quiet, her cell phone rang and vibrated. The caller ID showed it was a Virginia area code and answering the call gave a guarded, "Hello," thinking it might be a wrong number or a robo-call.

"Hi Sunshine," said a mellow baritone voice, "This is Dan. I wanted to let you know we just arrived in Hawaii."

Leaping from her chair, at the sound of his voice, she began hopping in excitement, bumped into the table, causing the cup to fall to the tile floor and shatter, spraying coffee and ceramic everywhere.

"Shit," she cursed, then apologized and explained what had happened.

"That's okay," he laughed, "I've heard a lot worse. Remember I'm a sailor."

Laughing, she gingerly tip-toed around the mess and into the living room, where she curled-up on her couch. This was the first time she had heard his voice and wanted to cherish every second.

They spoke for two-hours. He thanked her for the Christmas care package, and she told him about having a special surprise in store for him, when he arrived in San Diego. He informed her of when they would be pulling-in and how she could find him on the ship, when it moored. Before they ended the call, he thanked her for the support and encouragement she had provided.

He paused for a moment and said, "Kim, you're an amazing woman," and finished the call by saying he loved her.

Blushing at the compliment and wiping tears from her eyes, she said she looked forward to giving him a big welcome home kiss, and finished with, "I love you too."

Waking from her musings, she saw the ship was much closer now. "God damn, that thing is freaking huge," she exclaimed. She was immediately embarrassed, realizing she was around children and squeaked a loud and sheepish, "Sorry," while several people around her chuckled over the din and noise.

Nothing could have prepared her for this moment. She had read everything she could about them and watched hours of videos, but even that didn't compare to seeing the mammoth gray ship in real life, as it slowly approached the pier with the assistance of several tugboats. Amid the signal blasts from the tugs, the huge mass of steel emitted a low, rumbling growl.

"Ain't that the truth," laughed a man standing to her left. She thought his name was Charles and he was waiting for his wife, a Chief Petty Officer in the Operations Department. It was almost overwhelming. All around them people were shouting and waving. Looking out at the ship, she saw that people were standing at the edge of the flight deck. People in their dress blue uniforms, all still with their hands tucked behind their backs. Parade rest, Dan had called it, as they manned the rails. Squinting to see details, she scanned the front part of the ship. Dan had called it the bow and there he was, a sailor who was taller than the others.

Her heart seemed to leap in her chest at the sight of him. Smiling, she started to scream and wave, as she too was caught up in the emotion of the moment.

Dan...

The high-pitched trill of the Boatswain's pipe sounded over the ship's general announcing system, "Now make the ship ready to enter port. All Hands, man the rails."

Aviation Boatswain's Mate, Equipment Dan Whitman stood from his desk in the cramped office space and remembering to duck his head, least he hit the underside of the ship's Number Two Catapult Housing and announced, "Okay boys and girls, let's head up to the Flight Deck. We're home!"

The small office space felt like a sardine can, as several of the sailors who worked for him were sitting around in their dress uniforms chatting, cursing, and complaining. 'A bitching sailor is a happy sailor,' he thought. As they filed out of the office and through a hatch to the outside, a short stocky female Lieutenant dressed in a spotless dress uniform with gold braid and ribbons, joined them from another passageway.

Dan acknowledged her and said, "LT, I'll get everyone in place."

The officer thanked him and said she was going to miss having him around. She was Lieutenant Carla Torrez. Known as "Dora" for the similarities she shared with the animated explorer, she was the V-1 Division Officer. As a First-Class Petty Officer, he was the senior enlisted supervisor for the group and one of the division's leading petty officers.

He let 'Dora' go first through the hatch and they the sailors onto the catwalk that bordered the carrier's Flight Deck, he stood there for a moment and breathed deeply, to take everything in. He held the breath for a few seconds and then exhaled, and mused this would be one of the last times he stood on this Flight Deck as an enlisted man.

Climbing up a short ladder to the large open flight deck. He was amazed at the tranquility. For the past ten-months this space had been a very packed and busy airport. From this deck over eighty aircraft and helicopters had operated, projecting power, and defending the interests of the United States abroad. The LT broke his reverie, "What's the matter 'Boats'," she asked.

"Aw ma'am, it's okay," he said and finished with, "I'm just going to miss this place."

She guffawed as she spread her arms wide and exclaimed, "Miss all this! Why the fuck would you do a stupid thing like that for," and walked past him, laughing, and shaking her head in mock distain.

Turning to the east, he saw the coast in the distance. There were a few low morning clouds, but they were expected to burn off by mid-morning. The sun streamed down through them, making the city of San Diego appear like a mythical city of gold. Just seeing it caused his heart to leap for joy. They were coming to their new home, and he was soon going to meet an angel, named Kim.

As he got into position, halfway down the angle of the deck, he looked over his dress uniform. It was spotless. On the left sleeve at the shoulder were three red chevrons above a stark white eagle. Between them were a set of crossed anchors and wings. On the lower sleeve were two diagonal strips, denoting his years of service. On his chest were two rows of ribbons and above and below them were specialty pins. The one above had wings denoting Enlisted Aviation Warfare Specialist and the one below had waves and crossed cutlasses, for Enlisted Surface Warfare Specialist.

He was tall for a sailor -- at 6'6" and had broad shoulders. He had a slim, muscular physique. His skin was a deep brown. His dark brown eyes were deep set above high cheekbones, and his cheeks were creased by an almost perpetual smile, resulting in deep dimples on each side of his mouth.