Chapter 5

I firmly believe a person knows when they have met the woman of their dreams. A reaction occurs that is clearly out of the range of normal everyday life. A mental or visual connection is established that cannot be denied. Some people believe that there is one person on this earth that was created just for them. I have spoken with people who have felt a tingling, developed goose bumps, or felt some other strange sensation run through their body.

It can happen when you see a lady across the room. It can happen on a subway. It can happen when you are camping and turn around to see who is talking. It happened to me.

I snapped out of my stupor and responded to her question.

"Yes, I think I'll be just fine."

I saw a slight smile, a shy smile, and then she said, "I just check."

Then she turned, and she was gone. I stood there like a big baboon. I was stunned. I should have gone after her, but I didn't. I can't explain what came over me. It just did.

Her hair was vibrant, with a reddish shimmer. It came down to her shoulders. Her face was lovely and full of life. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of glacier blue. There was something in their shape that I found very attractive. I would describe them as thin, almond shaped eyes. Her nose was tiny, what I would call the ideal. Her mouth was rather pouty, but I attributed that to the fact that she was concerned about my welfare. In fact, she was a very delicate looking creature. Besides the beauty that was evident, I could also sense a very special spark in her demeanor.

I was amazed by the fact, that as a complete stranger, she had stopped to make sure I was OK.

She looked very similar to a girl I had gone out with in college. We had dated several times before she quit school to return home to her old boyfriend. I had always figured that it was because she was afraid she would have eventually fallen in love with me.

As I continued my evening ritual of reading my book on the beach, I couldn't stop thinking about her. It was as if destiny had brought her into my life. Somehow, in the deep recesses of my mind, I knew I would see her again. I made a promise to myself that the next time I saw her; I would not be so tongue-tied.

In the morning, I once again awoke to the sound of crashing waves. This time, however, it was not accompanied by the billowing of my tent. I peered outside to see streams of water coming over the dunes. Fortunately, it was nothing more than what I had experienced the evening before. Knowing that I was not about to be swept away, I returned to my bag and slept for another hour.

As I was taking my morning run, I patiently waited for Britte to come up from behind. A light haze of clouds covered the sky and I sensed the possibility of rain. This time I had a plan if she tried to catch me off guard. Halfway through my run, I heard a voice behind me. "Hey," was all the person was able to speak. I took off like a bat out of hades. There was no way that she was going to catch me flatfooted again.

When I didn't see her approaching, I glanced to the side. There was nobody there. I turned my head and body a little, and still no one. Finally, I began running backwards and still failed to see anyone attempting pass me. All I saw was one lone person, standing in the distance, with their hands up in the air. I supposed they thought I was some kind of a nut.

I finished my run without seeing Britte. I felt a little empty. I began to realize that it really was more fun to have someone by my side. I missed seeing her and having someone to talk with. With a little less spark, I proceeded to make my breakfast. My plan for the day was to head up to Charleston to see the aircraft carrier, the USS Yorktown, at Patriots Point.

The drive up to Charleston was uneventful. I paid for my parking and then found a spot relatively close to the admissions area. I stopped and gazed at the mighty old ship. I felt so thankful that someone had taken the initiative to save her and to allow civilians to visit and examine this living treasure trove of history.

After getting my ticket, I walked down to the dock and prepared to enter the old lady. I paused and tried to get an idea of her immense size and beauty. When I felt ready, I stepped aboard.

The long flight of steps emptied onto the hangar deck. I looked in both directions. The interior of the ship was immense. I felt like I was in a vast warehouse. A number of historic planes were parked along to one side. There were numerous other displays and artifacts that explained the history of some of the country's more famous naval battles. I stopped and looked at each one, trying to absorb as much information as I could.

I stopped and inspected the A-1 Skyraider. I imagined my father putting out fires on a very similar plane during the Korean War. He had told me stories about his service as a firefighter in the Air Force. In one case, one of the drivers in a tanker truck had his hair turn white overnight.

The story took place on the island of Okinawa. The men in-the-know had it calculated down to the minute, as to how long they could fight the fire before the bombs would explode. The fire trucks were forced to crash through some thick brush in an attempt to reach a burning plane. Finally the order was given to clear the area because the time for the safety net had expired.

My dad told me that he had never seen a man drive a truck in reverse, so fast, in all his life. Although the guy did not admit it, he must have been scared to death. When he awoke the next morning, his hair was ghostly white.

The next section I visited was the Congressional Medal of Honor Museum. The medal is given only to those who have exhibited "Conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his or her life..." It is the nation's highest award for valor. I walked through the area solemnly as I thought about the great men who had risked their lives to defend freedom. It was definitely the highlight of the tour, one that would stay with me for a very long time.

There were so many things to see. I realized that I would probably be spending the greater portion of the day on the ship. There were tours for the living and working areas. There were tours for the fire room and engine room. I toured the onboard Charleston Shipyard Museum and then found a seat in the theater to watch a movie entitled "The Fighting Lady".

To me, a visit to a piece of history like that was more than just entertainment. It was a time when I became deeply involved in the stories that were told. They were stories of ordinary men who had answered the call, who had gone and done extraordinary things. They had left family and friends to do what had to be done. Some had never returned.