We had hoses. Foam. Proximity suits for the men on the nozzles.
We had about four minutes before the fire reached the bomb racks on the forward bulkhead.
I found him behind the wheel of a tow tractor.
A seaman apprentice. Nineteen years old. Skinny as a rail. A kid from Ohio who’d been on the ship maybe three months.
He was supposed to be moving a plane away from the fire. Towing it clear. That was his job.
He was sitting in the seat of the tractor, frozen. His hands locked on the steering wheel. His eyes wide open. Staring at the wall of fire thirty feet in front of him.
He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t breathing right. He was just sitting there while the fire came closer.
I’d seen it before. It happens to people. Even brave people.
Your body just stops.
I climbed up on the tractor. I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. I put my face right in front of his face, so close our noses almost touched.
