The Missing Fleet

"Let's have your report Lieutenant, did you locate their fleet?" Captain Johnson asked.

"It was hard to find, because it wasn't there," I responded. "The intelligence reports don't look good Sir."

"Well, we know their fleet moved East a week ago," the Captain stated. "Three separate confirmations. Reports have been spotty since. We'll have to try again tomorrow. Take your group out at dawn."

"Yes sir," I said, saluting as I left his office.

From the parking lot, the harbor came into view. Most of our fleet was spread out at docks around the perimeter. Impressive, but vulnerable.

The Admiral felt that way, but his requests to move some of the fleet to sea had been turned down. "A safe island in the middle of the sea," was how the top brass saw things.

"Pennsylvania 6-5000" was starting when I turned on the car radio, and was finishing as I walked into the Officer's Club. I waved the other two pilots in my group together so only they could hear.

"Up again early tomorrow, on a slightly different heading," I announced.

"Looking for what's not there, if you ask me," Charlie said. A thought that many shared.

At 4:30 AM, we taxied to the end of the runway. There was a glow in the East, warning of the coming dawn, as we rushed toward it, rose and turned to the West to begin another search pattern.

One hour out, Charlie came on the radio. "Lieutenant, looks like some planes coming off the deck and heading in bound a couple of miles to the North. Maybe another group?"

"Time for us to head back anyway," I radioed back. "Let's see if we can catch them."

We didn't though, until they'd made a pass over Honolulu. By then it was too late.