The Other Side of Life

CHAPTER 1

The piercing shriek of the train whistle startled him into consciousness, and yet as soon as his eyes opened, Mac Kelsey knew he was dead.

He could see he was no longer aboard his battleship, the USS Nevada, let alone anywhere near Pearl Harbor. Gone was the scent of seaweed mixed with ocean salt that always lingered over the water. Nor was there any trace of the diesel exhaust and burning oil that had nearly choked him minutes earlier.

But the most obvious change was the relative quiet. The earsplitting explosions and frenzied mayhem that he had witnessed just moments ago, devastating the Pacific Fleet and consuming so many lives, had been abruptly silenced.

Rather than on a navigation bridge, he found himself standing on a railway platform, teeming with passengers anxious to board a pair of trains that sandwiched the platform and snaked back for some distance. Squinting into the afternoon sun, his eyes swept across the crowd, studying the endless parade of travelers forming into long queues to board the passenger cars. There wasn’t a single suitcase in sight, and yet nothing about that surprised him.

He allowed the brilliant sunshine pouring from the sky to warm him for a few seconds. It was the starkest of contrasts. Within minutes of the attack, the morning sky over Pearl Harbor had darkened, the sun almost completely obscured by the layers of smoke billowing up from the destruction across the harbor. Here the sky was a crisp, magnificent blue, the air dry and cool.

The throngs of passengers continued to stream by him. They seemed eager and anxious to board, their spirits buoyant. Uniformed men abounded, a blur of white, blue and khaki. He looked down, surprised at the transformation of his own uniform. The Navy dress whites were as gleaming and freshly pressed as the day he purchased them in San Diego three years ago, not a crease to be found.

Amid the large pack moving toward the closest train, he thought he heard his name. Faint at first, then louder. He saw a hand shoot up among the boarding passengers. He heard it clearly now, the voice familiar.

“Commander Kelsey!”

The figure emerged from the crowd. He was a compact young man, wearing Navy khakis with the insignia of an ensign on his collar tabs. As he approached, there was a wide grin behind his short stubble, the young man’s abiding eagerness as transparent as ever.

Kelsey was surprisingly pleased. “Mr. Daniels,” he said, as he grasped the other man’s extended hand. “You look like you’re in one piece.”

“As do you, sir,” replied Ensign Bryce Daniels, happily pumping Kelsey’s arm. He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. “I saw Chief Middleton back there, he’s with a group from the Arizona. We may see some of our other shipmates soon.”

Kelsey scanned the crowd for familiar faces. “Do you know where we are?”

“Sure do, Commander,” said Daniels with a wink. “Looks like I didn’t waste all those Sundays at the First Baptist Church of Portsmouth.”

Daniels looked past Kelsey and pointed toward one of the nearby trains. “That conductor seems to be eyeballing you, sir.”

Kelsey followed the ensign’s outstretched arm and saw a uniformed gentleman perched on the steps of a passenger car, accepting tickets as a queue of travelers shuffled aboard. It looked as if the passengers were peppering him with questions, or possibly directions, but the man was clearly preoccupied, staring right at Kelsey and Daniels. He waved the two officers over.

They joined the long procession and made their way to the entry, climbing the handful of steps to reach the conductor. He was an older man, clearly nearing his retirement years. His uniform fit loosely over his lithe frame and the shock of white hair protruding from his hat had a matching, bushy mustache that covered his upper lip.

The conductor checked his pocket watch. “Train is leaving in one minute, Commander Kelsey,” he said, snapping the watch shut and slipping it back into his vest. “You coming aboard, son?”

“You know my name?”

“Malcolm Anderson Kelsey. Lieutenant Commander, United States Navy. Right?”

“Right.”

“Are you coming aboard?”

“I don’t have a ticket.”

“Then what’s that in your hand?”

Kelsey lifted his hand and saw the small piece of paper, not even realizing how tightly he was clutching it. He handed it to the conductor who didn’t bother to examine it. “First class. All the way forward, Commander. You’re welcome to some refreshments, complimentary of course.”

Kelsey felt a rumble in his stomach. “They serving any breakfast?”

The conductor stopped taking tickets from the others and looked at Kelsey curiously. The reflection of sunlight gave the man’s soft blue eyes a charcoal-colored appearance. “You’re hungry?”

“I’ll live,” Kelsey shrugged, stepping onto the train. “Ensign, give him your ticket.”

The conductor directed a thumb to the other side of the train. “You’re in third class, Mr. Daniels. Any of the cars in the back. Find yourself a seat, we’re filling up fast.”

Daniels waived a hand. “With rank comes privilege. I’ll see you on the train, sir.”

Kelsey watched him go, sensing something was amiss. It was. This was the first time in months the two had separated without Kelsey barking at him over some triviality.

He thought of Chief Middleton’s rebuke minutes before the first bombs fell. The sharp words had struck a nerve with Kelsey, who heard the plain implication in the man’s message, loud and clear. Kelsey’s unwillingness to mentor Daniels was a failure of leadership. That had pissed Kelsey off. Maybe because he didn’t think it was true. Maybe because he knew it was.