Retaining Wall
It was packed at the Willow bar. The weather had been warm and sunny the day before, and people decided it was safe to come out. As it developed, it wasn’t, but once out you may as well go inside someplace else, and they all appeared to have decided to join us, and formed a veritable retaining wall of flesh both up and downstream from the apex of the Amen Corner where Old Jim was holding court in the usual place.
There were some celebrities, including the Guy from the White House, and even more importantly, the young person whose day job is serving as the Mascot for one of the major professional Sports franchises in the District. He was having the pot roast and it looked good, For reasons of National Security, I am not permitted to reveal the identity of the Mascot nor what the President had for lunch yesterday.
We have our standards, you know?
Anyway, Jake and his bride were in my usual place- I was late, for a variety of perfectly good reasons, and Old Jim almost had to bitch-slap me for making him save the seat next to him. I was humbled and apologized. Knowing Jake’s interest in things nautical, I reached into the pocket of my jean jacket for my phone to look up the last picture I took in Hawaii. I found it and waved my phone in triumph.
“So, here is the reason Hawaii is an American State,” I said. “I had seen it dozens of times before and never knew what it was.”
Jim glanced at the image and passed it to Jake. “Looks like a concrete wall,” he said, and picked up his beer.
Jake looked at it as well, concentrating on the crane behind it. “Where is this?” he asked. He had been on O’ahu for like a gazillion years back in the day, before they finally corralled him and made him move back here to this tawdry reality show of a town.
“It is between the Pearl Harbor Shipyard and Hickham AFB, where the Air Force used to have guard to make sure the sailors wouldn’t sneak on to their base.”
“I know the place, but what it it? Or was it?”
I smiled smugly, knowing the answer. “It is the last remaining vestige of the coaling station. It is the reason the Navy landed troops to support the white planters. We needed a place to stock coal so the warships could fill up their bunkers on the way west to the Philippine Islands. It is why we overthrew the monarchy and made the Islands a Territory.”
“Doesn’t look like much,” said Jim with a frown.
“No, I wouldn’t think so. They built it during World War One, the same time they built the Headquarters where the Code-breakers worked in the basement. You should have seen what was on top of that wall. By the time we were there it has all been removed for scrap. That’s why I never paid attention to it. He handed the phone back to me and I fingered up through the images on the camera roll. “I took pictures of the historical signage- here is the sign that explains it. That is new since we lived there.”
I showed him the image of the sign, and then the one of the railroad that once towered above it.
“This is what it looked like back in the days when ships burned coal to fire the boilers. They build a elevated tram system high above the retaining wall, and a circular pier for the ships to come alongside and the coal was scooped up and poured down into the bunkers on the ships.”
Jasper, the best bowler on Guam and our favorite bartender was bustling by with a platter of Willow’s signature flatbread Margarita. He looked at the image on the phone over Jim’s shoulder. “Yeah, bra. Looks like the one back home in Guam.”
“So this is what the face of Imperialism looks like?” asked Jim.
“You bet,” I said. “It looks industrial and it was made out of steel and concrete. It was the biggest thing on the base for years and years.”
“Did the Japanese bomb it?” growled Old Jim.
“Nope. By the time of the attack, we were burning oil in our ships, and they didn’t hit those either.”
Jake took a sip of his Racer Five IPA. “Some authorities claim that the fuel storage tanks by the main gate would have been a better target than the battleships in the harbor. The contents of the tanks, and the replacement of them would have slowed the response to the Japanese Fleet at Coral Sea and Midway.”
“Which means they could have invaded Australia, or taken a base in the mid-Pacific to put their bombers.”
I nodded. “I wish we could ask Mac Showers about that,” I said, slipping the phone into the pocket of my coat. “There is so much to learn and so little time.”
Jim grunted and pushed his Budweiser forward. “There is going to be plenty of time to forget,” he said, waving at Sammy, the Tunisian bartender. “Meanwhile it is colder than hell here and the Ground Hog says six more weeks of winter.”
“I guess that is the only thing we can count on. But in the meantime, if the LT gets assigned there, I will be back.” I took a swig of vodka and smiled. “The Islands really are a lovely place to be.”
Jim snorted and reached for the fresh Bud in front of him. “The Honolulu Tourist Board ought to put you on retainer.”
“Wait till you see what we want to do with the Dungeon where the Codebreakers worked!”
Copyright 2015 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303
