Abandoned: MIA in Vietnam by Bill Yancey Read Free Book Online Page B

Georgia. Stationed several times out of Mayport. After retiring from the navy, he took a job with a boat building company, Luhrs, in St. Augustine. Retired from that months before the great recession.”
    Amazed, Wolfe said, “Do you know all your patients’ background histories that well?”
    Gadhavi shrugged. “I guess,” he said.
    “I don’t suppose you remember the name of the aircraft carrier?” Wolfe asked. “I can give you a list of names to choose from.”
    “I remember he said it came back to the States for a complete overhaul after a serious fire.” Gadhavi slowed and cut across three lanes of traffic to exit from I-95 at 8th Street in Jacksonville.
    “That narrows it down. Only three aircraft carriers had major fires during Vietnam: Oriskany , Forrestal , and Enterprise ,” Wolfe explained. “ Forrestal came back to the Newport News shipyard in Virginia. Oriskany went to Alameda, California. And I would guess Enterprise went to Pearl Harbor, since her fire happened off Hawaii. Do you know if he went to the East Coast?”
    “Definitely not,” Gadhavi said. “He told me all about taking part in the sexual revolution in San Francisco during the overhaul. Humping the hippies , he called it.”
    Stunned, Wolfe sat back in his seat, silent. The Jimmy Byrnes I knew may have known this man. But how were they related? And what did the note mean? Gadhavi pulled his Audi into the Shands parking deck and into an empty space. “We’re here,” he said. “Sorry, Dr. Wolfe, but I have to rush along.”
    Wolfe climbed out of the vehicle, reached across the convertible top and shook the young man’s hand. He said, “Call me Addy, short for Addison. I’ll be in touch later after the police release his name. I’ll want you to contact the family for me to see if they’ll talk to me.”
    “Sure thing,” Gadhavi said. He turned and walked briskly to the nearest hospital entrance.
    Wolfe trundled slowly behind him, hands in pockets, mind in 1967.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 7
     
    “Hey Wolfe, wake up.” Wolfe opened his eyes. A chunky sailor in dungarees and chambray shirt stood at the foot of his hospital bed. Next to him stood a mop-haired civilian, Robert Martin, a grin on his face. With his hair in his eyes, Martin reminded Wolfe of John Lennon.
    “Oh, Crespi,” Wolfe said, peering through swollen eyelids. The words were difficult for Martin and Crespi to understand. Wolfe’s face was so edematous he found it hard to breathe at times. He looked at his hands. They were still bright red and about twice-normal size. “What’s up, Mike? Hey, Bobby,” Wolfe acknowledged the civilian. The steady drumbeat of rain on the window drew Wolfe’s gaze from his friends.
    “Yeah,” Crespi said, “monsoon again. They say there will be four more months of this stuff. I’ve never seen rain like this. You guys?”
    “Yeah. It was like this last year, too,” Martin said. “Every year from May until October it pours. I think the navy base averages a hundred inches of rain per year.” Days before Martin had finished his freshman year in college at Washington State University. His father, a civilian, ran the Subic Naval Station engineering division. During World War II, the elder Martin had served as an enlisted driver with Patton’s 3rd Army in Europe. He and two other men had driven the general’s jeep all over France and Germany in the last year of the war. After the war ended, Martin found a pretty French woman to be his war bride and brought her home with him. Once home, he returned to college and earned an electrical engineering degree. He wanted Bobby to study engineering, but the younger Martin wanted to teach, like his mother.
    Crespi scanned Wolfe’s face, then his hands. “We got orders, Addy. And we got an east coast carrier, buddy. One cruise and we return to Norfolk. Maybe a Med cruise after that,” he said, excitedly. Crespi grinned, white teeth in sharp contrast to