The Homecoming

As the ship approached the breakwater to North Island Naval Air Station, he pondered how a single letter could change his life in such a marvelous way, in just eight-months.

- - - - -

He had entered the V-1 Division Office on his way to assuming his twelve-hour shift, to check the duty rosters and catch-up on any news. LT Torrez saw him come in and motioned him over to her desk, with, "Hey Boats, come here a second."

'Boats' was the unofficial nickname of a senior enlisted Boatswain's Mate of the division and a Leading Petty Officer. He bore the title with pride. He'd worked hard to get to the place he was at. Not conforming to the status quo of inner-city Los Angeles, he had broken free after finishing high school at the top of his class. He loved sports but detested one -- basketball. He felt that it epitomized the gangster lifestyle and its associated trappings of drugs and violence. He had been scouted by many colleges but had turned them all down. All he had wanted to do was to join the Navy.

He was accepted and joined right out of high school. The scores on his entrance exam qualified him for early advancement after finishing basic training. Afterwards, he was posted to Basic Aviation training in Pensacola, Florida and following that led to a combination of ship and shore assignments with aviation squadrons. He had attained the prestigious rank of First-Class Petty Officer in under ten-years -- another goal of his, as well as finishing his bachelor's degree.

He had gotten assigned to the USS Abraham Lincoln (CVN 72) while it was undergoing an extensive overhaul in Norfolk and upon completion, undertake a cruise around the world, as it prepared to move homeports to San Diego. Although he had a wide circle of professional acquaintances, he had few close friends. Being shy, he had never been in a relationship, or even at single date for that matter.

Besides a few leisure activities -- reading histories, working out, running and rock climbing, he had time for little else than his duties and college. Pushing himself hard to complete his qualifications after reporting for duty aboard the aircraft carrier, he set about pursuing his next goal -- becoming an officer.

As an LPO, he gotten preference on the choice of shift rotation. Although the day shift was busier, he chose that period, so he could spend time in the evening completing his studies. Ducking his head and hunching over to avoid the low-hanging pipes and lights, he ambled over to the officer's desk and said, "Morning LT. What's up?"

She looked up at him and smiled, "What do you want first, the good news or the bad?"

"Shit," he muttered and shook his head in disbelief, and replied, "Go ahead with the bad, ma'am."

"Well," she began, "Chief Biddle took a header last night and broke his leg pretty bad."

She shared that in some harsh weather the previous night, the chief was out inspecting the jets that were secured on the flight deck. A strong gust of wind had blown him into the catwalk, causing a serious fracture in his lower leg, when he impacted the fueling hose reel and that he was being medically evacuated off the ship that morning.

"We damn near had a man overboard," she said flatly.

Torrez went onto explain that they were now a Chief short up forward and The Boss -- the Air Department Head for the carrier didn't want the Air Wing to fill the spot. "Boss wants one of our own people and I said you were up for the job," she said evenly. Narrowing her gaze, she asked if he felt like he could hold his own with the wing khakis and officers. "It doesn't mean a promotion or extra pay, but it'll look good on your record," she advised him.

He knew this would mean giving up several hours each day as he did not only his own job of supervising his crew, but also that of a senior supervisor, in managing both forward catapults.

"For how long," he asked, looking her in the eye.

"Dan, I really can't say," was her only reply.

The use of his first name told him this was a serious matter. Shaking his head in the affirmative, he said, "Okay tell The Boss, I'm onboard," and adding a joke said, "I sure hope the good news is better."

She laughed and reaching down beside her desk to pick up a mail bag and handed it to him. "There are Operation: Homefront letters," she said with a cheerful smile.

Rolling his eyes, Torrez put up a hand and said, "It's a morale thing. The Boss feels like it'll lift everyone's spirits."

He mumbled, "Yes ma'am," and taking the orange polyester sack, turned to leave.

She caught his attention and said, "Boats, that includes you too. Got it!"

He said he would and exited the space. Hearing the clanking of chains overhead, told his that crews were beginning to get the aircraft ready for another round of flight operations. He slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way forward through the maze of passageways filled with sailors and officers to the bow. He stopped by the Cat Shack, the small office responsible for the forward catapults and filled them in on the news. He also reached into the bag and gave his petty officers handfuls of the letters; with the instructions they were to be distributed among all the sailors and answered with encouraging responses and no bitching.

At his desk he turned the bag upside down to ensure it was empty after fulfilling his first duty as an acting chief and saw that one letter had dropped out and landed on his desk. Cursing, he thought to himself, 'I don't have time for this shit!' Just then, the loudspeaker announced flight ops were beginning. Swearing again, he jerked open the drawer and dropping it in, he hip-bumped it shut as he grabbed his hard hat, gloves, and other protective gear, to head up to the flight deck for air operations.

He didn't need to run on the treadmill that evening. Jogging between the two catapults on the bow and moving along the catwalks to check on his crews was excellent replacement exercise. He barely had time for a quick meal in the crew's galley, joining other First-Class' in their mess, before heading back up to the flight deck. By the time he was finished with the day, he had worked his full shift and then three additional hours. He intended to swing by his office, drop off his gear, grab his paperwork to study, then shower and hit the rack.

He opened his desk drawer and saw the letter lying atop his study package. Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, he finally grimaced and muttered, "What the fuck," and snatched-up the letter along with his study package, he hip-closed the drawer and walked out.

On his way to his berthing area, he justified in his mind breezing through the letter and penning a quick response, to confirm with the LT that he had fulfilled his duty. Putting on his running shorts after stripping out of his work clothing, he slipped on a pair of rubber flipflops and padded to the nearby crew's head to take a Navy shower. After toweling off and brushing and flossing his teeth, he dressed and returned to his bunk. There he flipped on the reading light and squeezed himself into the cramped personal space of his bunk and closed the curtain.

He could tell it was an adult woman who had addressed the letter, by the cursive writing. It was from a Kim Nolan in La Jolla, CA. It had been mailed three weeks before. He was impressed. He thought it would've taken longer for a letter to catch-up with them. After they had left Norfolk in early April, then had journeyed across the Atlantic, entered the Mediterranean and were now preparing to transit the Suez Canal.

He tore open the envelope, unfolded the single page and read...

Dear Abe Lincoln Sailor,

I hope this letter finds you well. I don't know a lot of what you do in the Navy, but I hope you remain safe, if you and your coworkers enter harm's way.

If you have time, I would enjoy exchanging letters with you. It would be fun to learn about your life aboard the ship. What do you do on the ship? How do you spend your free time? I hope I'm not boring you with all these questions.

I am enormously proud that you would choose to serve your country on our behalf.

Yours truly,

Kim Nolan

He read the letter again and then a third time. It was simple yet touching, all at the same time. He also realized that up until this point in his life he had never seriously communicated with someone outside of the Navy -- especially a woman. He had passing conversations, but he had never gotten to know them. This lady didn't know him at all, but she took time out of her day to write to him. That was impressive in his book, and he knew he should take the time to reciprocate.

The next day, during a lull during flight ops, he hurried below decks to the ship's store and purchased some ship's stationery and envelopes. That evening after his shift knocked-off, he sat at his desk and penned her a response. In it, he introduced himself and told her he really enjoyed reading her letter and that it encouraged him and the other sailors on the ship, that people back home were thinking of them. He shared that he would enjoy exchanging letters with her.

He started off by telling her some about the ship, describing it as a floating city that never slept and with one of the busiest airports in the world. He also shared about his job of managing the catapults that launching the aircraft.

With all his college work done on a computer, he had lost touch with actual writing, and he found it refreshing to put pen to paper. Before he realized it, had had written two full pages. Afterwards, he took a detour down several decks to drop the letter off at the ship's post office, as he headed off for his studies. While he was there, he noticed one of the First Classes from the mess exiting the space and asked him offhandedly how long it would take a letter to reach the states.

"About three-weeks, maybe less," he responded and added, "We're taking on supplies each week and the CO has put a priority on getting mail, so it shouldn't be too bad."

Doing the math in his head, he figured, he should carve out some time each week to start writing. On his way to his rack, he began rebalancing his schedule in his mind, to make things work and in doing so, he noticed his perspective on life was beginning to change. Instead of feeling rushed all the time going from one assignment to the next, he found that he could rest a little. He used these quiet periods to share with Kim what life on the ship was like.

When he received her photo, he was blown away at how beautiful she was. When he had responded with a photo of himself, she too was impressed with him in return. She had shared that she was concerned about his working on the flight deck. He calmed her fears by reassuring her that he knew just how hazardous it was and that's what kept him and the others he worked with on their guard.

There were two defining moments that had cemented his feelings for her. The first was when he received the letter containing the photos. It had been a miserably sweltering day for flight ops in the Arabian Gulf. He had been worn completely out. Two sailors working the day shift on the flight deck had suffered heat stress injuries. He also had a run-in with an airwing chief concerning the incident, in which 'Dora' came to his defense. He was bone tired and just wanted to hit the rack. Sweat and grime be damned. His saving grace was when he heard the announcement of, "Mail call," over the general announcing system. There hadn't been a resupply in a few days, but had remembered seeing a COD, the carrier onboard delivery aircraft had landed at the end of the flight ops cycle, inbound from Bahrain.

That announcement was music to his ears. He hurried from the Cat Shack to the V-1 office and soon after he got there, one of the clerks brought a mail bag in. He stood over the young petty officer's shoulder trying to look for Kim's telltale envelope. The clerk looked over his shoulder at him with distain and said, "Holy shit, Boats. You freakin' stink, man," and asked, "Can you stand downwind?"

Dan took a step back and pushed his cranial head protection back and wiped his sweating brow with the sleeve of his yellow jersey. "Sorry, Murphy," he said apologetically.

Murphy sorted the mail into piles and put them in the cubby holes for each work center. He then turned and with a smile held out a stack to him. Dan thanked him and as he moved toward the door of the office. Glancing through the mail, he saw a manila envelope addressed to him from Kim with the instruction to not bend it. It was heavier that a normal letter and just holding it had completely changed his day.

Walking back to the shack, he handed out mail to those who were waiting or placed the mail in the bins for the sailors in his section. With a smile, he headed to his rack. He followed Murphy's advice and took a quick shower and cleaned-up. Climbing into his rack and turning on the reading light, tore open the envelope and withdrew its contents. Beside the letter that contained Kim's cursive handwriting there were also several photos and he noticed she had written on the back of each one with a sharpie.

The first was Kim dressed in Navy blue and gold gear. A snug yellow tank top and dark blue short shorts with a yellow 'N,' standing against a brick wall smiling, with her hands on her hips. Next to her were a couple of her friends, one sitting on another's shoulders and the one on top was holding a tape measure and she was pointing at a certain mark. In the foreground someone a photobombed a thumbs-up. On back was written:

Just a bit shorter than you! With a smiley face added.

Examining it closely he could see that see stood just over five-feet tall, but she was quite a looker, he thought.

The second depicted her in running gear. She was wearing tight shorts and a dark blue sports bra and aviator sunglasses. Her golden blonde hair was tied back in a short ponytail. He could tell she was very well toned, and her skin nicely tanned. Turning it over he read:

Running the America's Finest City Half-M

The third showed her against a cliff face in the same clothing, with a helmet on her head. She had arched her back slightly and was holding on to the rocks, while posing with her left armed curled. "Holy shit," he muttered in amazement, "This girl's a risktaker."

Flipping it over he read:

Climbing Powag Crags. Check out my guns!

Turning it back over he examined her closely. She had a lean and sculpted look to her, not that of a bodybuilder, but someone who took care of herself.

The next depicted Kim and her friends around a table enjoying dinner. They were holding their drinks up as they posed. Kim had a beaming smile. Turning over the photo, she had written:

Toasting you!

At the last one, he stopped and stared for a long time at it. Kim was dressed in her Navy gear, and it was a bright, sunny day. She was leaning against a handrail, looking out toward the ocean. In a previous letter he remembered her mentioning where she lived. The person taking the picture had stood behind her and to the right. Kim appeared deep in thought.

He studied her features and was again amazed at how stunning she was. She was busty for her height and had a sleek, athletic build. Her hips were shapely and were complimented by a well-defined posterior. Her legs were well-toned and lovely. He sensed she turned quite a few heads when she dressed like that.

When he finally flipped the picture over, his breath caught in his lungs as he read:

Looking at the ocean and thinking of you! XOXOXO

Re-reading the missive, he felt their relationship deepening into something more than just a casual friendship. It was comforting and encouraging knowing that she was there supporting him.

He appreciated that comfort and support a few weeks later when they found out their deployment had been extended. The day after this news was shared with the crew was his birthday. Pretty shitty present he had thought as he came off the flight deck after the captain had announced it to the crew. "Happy mother-fucking birthday," he muttered, kicking open the door to the Cat Shack and slamming it behind him and flopping down into the chair at his desk. Thankfully, no one else had been around to see his tantrum.

Just then over the general announcing system the word was passed, "Set flight quarters to receive helo. Flight in-bound from Bahrain."

Feeling relieved, he realized they weren't in need of the catapult crews, and they would have a little break. Hopefully, it would bring some good news. He put his head down onto his forearms in the cramped and sweltering space and tried to enjoy a few moments of peace and quiet.

He drifted off to sleep and was jarred awake by the sound of the Boatswain's pipe over the general announcing system and the blessed words of, "Now mail call."

At the same time the phone rang. He unhooked the receiver from the wall-mounted phone, to hear 'Dora' asking him to come to the V-1 office.

He stood and stretched and then headed aft and into the ship's cooler interior. Arriving at his division office, he saw LT Torrez speaking to a Chief he had never seen before. The CPO smiled broadly as he approached and introduced himself as Chief Sam Pulaski. Dora told him with a smile that she was giving him a birthday present in the form of some relief. She also handed him a stack of mail, one being a box addressed to him. It was one of the best days of his life, he was no longer an acting Chief, and it was mail call!

He walked around and found all the members of his team and delivered their mail. Afterwards, he went back to his desk to see what he had received. Sitting down at his desk, he opened the drawer and found his pocketknife. Slicing off the wrapping and opening the box, he dug through the packing peanuts to find a letter from Kim and two gift wrapped birthday presents. He was as excited as a little kid at the sight.

Before this moment, he never realized how much the sense of smell plays in one's daily life. He had gotten used to the smells of the confined space. Oils, lubricants, sweat and grime -- all were standard fare and went unnoticed. Add a new one to the mix and its immediately noticeable.

Opening the letter, the fragrance of perfume filled his nostrils. At that moment Dora and Chief Pulaski entered the space. "What the fuck is that smell," asked the Lieutenant.

He felt embarrassed and replied, "Sorry ma'am. It's my birthday present."

With a smile, she replied, "From that girl you were telling me about?"

Nodding in reply, she laughed and said, "Shit Boats. She smells like a keeper. That's pricy perfume."

After they joked a bit more, they chatted a bit and the LT told him she was showing the new chief around. They soon left and gave him back his moment of peace to enjoy his birthday. Settling down at his desk, he thought he was going to like working for the new CPO.

Picking up the letter from his desk he held it close to his face and inhaled deeply, relishing the smell. He then unfolded the missive and read:

Dearest Dan,

I hope this reaches you in time for your birthday. I think you'll enjoy these two small gifts. I remember you saying you enjoy this author. I also think you'll enjoy the C.D. It's your favorite group's new release.

At the bottom of the page, the letter was signed:

XOXOXO

Sunshine

He smiled at seeing the signature. He had given Kim the call sign after the pictures and he had told her, she had been a bright ray of sunshine in his life. Opening the larger of the two presents, he saw that it was the new book by Brian Kilmeade on Sam Houston and The Alamo. He was grateful that he would now have time to enjoy reading again. The small flat present contained to his wonderment, the Swedish power metal band Sabaton's new recording, entitled, "The Great War."