One week later
Well, here I am—back for more at Patriots Point. Natalie's just dropped me off, and I'm riding down the pier to Yorktown.
"Welcome home," says the cart driver.
I am home, aren't I? Is it weird that I'm a little excited? All I have to do is avoid the Corsair, and things may be okay. Would Ted want this, or is it only me? I'm still not sure.
I run into Temple once I enter the ship and find my way back to the Volunteer Lounge.
His eyes widen, and he says, "Bill, you're back."
"I guess I am," I mutter, opening the notebook on the desk and signing myself in. "I made a deal with Natalie. We fostered a dog last week, and she told me she'd consider adopting him full-time if I continue to try Patriots Point."
Temple chuckles—"That's a good deal"—and approaches me. "Well, all right, then! Let's start with getting your photo for your ID badge. I'll put you on a Bulldog Tour afterward so you can learn more about Yorktown if that's okay."
I shrug. "Sure, whatever." Then I realize that I'm once again being rude. "Sorry. I did it again, didn't I?"
"You're fine. I'm not going to 'fire' a Volunteer easily, especially one as exceptional as you."
"Thanks," I say, smiling feebly. Temple's a good guy. He cares about the Volunteers. I look for that in a boss.
Temple escorts me to the Hangar Bay and leads me down to Hangar Bay 3, where we meet the man who takes my picture against the wall to the left of Yorktown's back exit.
My cheeky smile is not coming out today, so I'm sure that picture will look more like a mugshot when Temple eventually gives me my badge. Oh, well. I tried.
Afterward, Temple returns me to the Information Desk and checks his wristwatch. "The first Bulldog Tour starts at 10:00, so learn your way around the Information Booth and hop in once the tour guide arrives."
It's 9:30 now. Temple mentioned that the Bulldog Tours are around an hour and a half long, putting me at 11:30, thirty minutes before my shift ends.
"Thank you, sir." I salute, and Temple returns it.
"You're going to do great today, Bill."
I hope so, but if the Bulldog Tour involves getting near the Corsair... I'm out. I'm about to ask Temple about it, but he's already left.
The Volunteers behind the Information Booth grin, but I lower my head and pass them, stopping at the Volunteer Manuel, sitting at the far end of the desk. I flip through it and begin reading the history of CV-10. Okay, so this is the second Yorktown. Cosgrove mentioned that. CV-5 was sunk the day after the Battle of Midway. I remember that, too.
I flip and flip and find myself on a page about the Corsair in Hangar Bay 2. I flip the page again on instinct but then return to the Corsair. Something strange is happening here, Ted. I murdered you with this plane, yet I'm reading about it.
Before I know it, I hear an "Ahem!" and look up.
It's Cosgrove. Instead of a Volunteer shirt, he wears a white Bulldog Tours one. Wait, he's one of the tour guides? Volunteers can do that?
"How ya doing, Bill?" he asks. "A little birdie told me you're tagging along on my tour today?"
My mouth drops, and I study Cosgrove. "Since when are you a tour guide?" is my first question. Stop, Bill! You're being rude.
"I've been doing it for twenty years now," Cosgrove answers, unfazed by my rudeness.
Twenty years? I don't even have that much time left. Volunteers stay at Patriots Point that long? That's impressive. Then again, I'm ninety-two years old and still sharp. I could get five years here. Wait, what are you saying, Bill?
"Over here," Cosgrove says before I reach too far into my thoughts. "It's time to start the tour."
Nervousness replaces my previous excitement. How will I do on this tour? I can walk up and down ladders fine, but steeper ones are a little trickier. If only I were in the Navy again.
The tour group waits beside Yorktown's main entrance. It is small (about ten people).
Cosgrove waves and says, "Hello!" in a cheery voice. "Are y'all here for the Captain's Tour?"
"We are," a woman says. Her family members and a few other guests nod.
"Excellent!" Does Cosgrove jump? He points at himself and then at me. "My name is Cosgrove, and I'll be your tour guide today. This is Bill, a retired pilot of the Korean War and a new Volunteer. He's going to tag along."
"Thank you for your service, sir," a few people say. "And welcome."
"Thank you," I return, still nervous. I'm not usually a people person, so this is new. I was more social during my service but still enjoyed my alone time. Ted couldn't be alone, though; he was an all-star social bird. It was one of the only significant differences between us, aside from Ted admitting he was queer.
Cosgrove puts his hands together and smiles at each of his guests. "Welcome to Patriots Point—specifically CV-10, the USS Yorktown." He holds up one finger. "We are but one of the five museum ships left in the United States. Yorktown, Intrepid, Hornet, and Lexington are Essex-class carriers, while the Midway in San Diego is the only Midway-class ship."
"Huh," a few people respond.
"The Captain's Tour today is about an hour and a half long," Cosgrove continues. "We will be climbing up and down stairs—the Navy calls them 'ladders'. Is everyone okay with climbing ladders?" He glances at me when he says this.
"I'll be fine," I admit, showing off my cane. "I've got my cane." It and a rotten attitude toward Patriots Point. "I'll let you know if I need something, Cosgrove." Yeah, like a new place to volunteer.
"Then let's get started, shall we? Follow me!" Cosgrove's first stop is a display of the USS Yorktown in a glass case. She looks like Valley Forge—an Essex-class carrier with a straight Flight Deck. Artifacts, such as old plates and silverware, surround the model.
Cosgrove pats the case. "This is the USS Yorktown—what she would've looked like during World War II. She's 873 feet long, and her Flight Deck is at least 140 feet wide. She's eighteen decks high, can carry 3,000 men, and is riddled with watertight and flameproof doors, something another famous ship, the Titanic, didn't have."
I try zoning out during his lecture, but Cosgrove is so cheery that it's hard to. He points out pictures and signs behind the model that showcase Yorktown's history, starting with her christening ceremony on January 21st, 1943.
"The Navy is superstitious," Cosgrove explains. "It's considered bad luck if a ship isn't properly christened, and all the sailors will want to join the Air Force." That earns a few giggles, even from me.
Cosgrove giggles himself. "That said, during her christening ceremony, Yorktown began sliding out of her slip seven minutes ahead of schedule, leaving Eleanor Roosevelt to jump up and quickly hit the champagne bottle against her bow. It doesn't break, so now everyone really wants to join the AAF."
More laughs.
"However!" Cosgrove again holds up one finger. "The bottle breaks on Eleanor's second attempt, and the ship is christened. It's a relief for all those young sailors."
This man. Unfortunately, I don't have a sense of humor anymore. I lost it when Ted died and never found it. However, I wonder how I would do if I ever decide to give tours at Patriots Point.
The tour continues to a Doolittle Raid exhibit in Hangar Bay 3, near where I got my picture taken. A B-25B Mitchell showcases it. A photo of Donald Duck is on its olive-green fuselage. Painted under the photo are the words "Ruptured Duck". I should remember the Doolittle Raid, but it somehow slips my mind.
"All right!" Cosgrove cheers, putting his hands together.
Oh, boy. Here we go again. I study the B-25 and exhibit while Cosgrove tells the story.
"It's 1942, four months after Pearl Harbor, and the U.S.'s morale is in shambles. We need something to retaliate against the enemy and boost it. What better way to do that than with a secret mission known as the Doolittle Raid?"
Oh, it's starting to come back. During the Doolittle Raid, sixteen B-25s were placed on an aircraft carrier, Hornet, for a secret mission to bomb the enemy homeland. A short fellow, Jimmy Doolittle, led it.
The lecture continues, and I find myself engulfed and standing over a model of the Hornet, CV-8 (this isn't the Hornet that's a museum ship today), in another glass case. Miniature models of the B-25s appear ready for take-off; they're lined up, and I can almost see their propellers spinning.
"After the Raid," Cosgrove elucidates near the end of his talk, "Ted Lawson, one of the Raiders, who lost his leg, wrote a bestselling book called Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo that was eventually turned into a movie: stream for $3.99 on YouTube. What a resource YouTube is, right? Great movie, though; I highly recommend it."
"Ted?" I blurt unexpectedly. "Ted's back?" If only.
Cosgrove and the guests glance at me. "Ted Lawson is who I'm talking about," Cosgrove says friendlily. "He lost his leg during the Raid and wrote a book about it."
Why do I suddenly feel heated? "So, you're saying that Ted's crew could save him, but I couldn't save my Ted?" I argue, squeezing my cane.
Cosgrove remains calm and points at a bench to the left of the Hornet model that overlooks the Charleston Harbor. "Bill, why don't you rest for a bit?"
I grasp my cane harder.
Next, Cosgrove glimpses at his guests. "Sorry about him, everyone. He lost a good friend during the war. I hope you'll forgive him."
An older, younger woman in the crowd lifts her eyebrow and studies me.
To prevent myself from breaking the Navy rule again, I saunter to the bench and sit, observing the calm harbor and Downtown Charleston. I hear Cosgrove behind me.
"Since you guys are part of the Captain's Tour, you get to climb into the B-25 and check it out. Take pictures—whatever you want to do, just watch your head. While you're in there, imagine being stuck in it for twelve hours during this mission."
I hate you, Ted, I repeat to myself, thinking about Cosgrove's story. While Ted Lawson's brothers manage to save him, I can't save you? I'm not watching that movie. I'll punch a hole in the screen.
"Excuse me?" a voice says over me a minute later.
I look up and see the woman who glanced at me when I blurted out my Ted. Her silky white hair with dirty blonde specks flops over her shoulders, and she smiles with all her white teeth. She looks to be around Natalie's age.
"Sorry to bother you, but you said you had a friend named Ted during the war?" the woman asks. She rubs her hands together (I see sweat drops on them).
I huff and turn away. "I don't want to talk about it."
"That's okay. I understand." The woman clears her throat. "I'm only asking because—"
"Is everyone ready?" Cosgrove interrupts. He re-hooks the chain on the backend of the B-25. The tour group is together again, excluding the woman and me.
The woman shoots me a knowing look and returns to the group, but I remain seated, lost in my internal conflict.
"Bill?" Cosgrove states. He hides it well, but I can tell he's impatient.
I sigh and push myself to my feet. "I'm sorry, Cosgrove, but I can't do this tour."
"We've only just begun, though," he argues.
"I'm sorry," I repeat. It's not that I can't do the tour; I merely don't want to—not after learning Ted Lawson's story. What I need now is some privacy on the Flight Deck.
With this in mind, I nod at the tour group, including the woman, and leave, contemplating why I let myself fall for Natalie's deal in the first place.