Battle for Life

By Scott I. Zucker

In Battle for Life, Sam Silver is a sixty-year-old lawyer balancing work and his family after having moved back to his hometown to care for his ailing parents. Now, his ninety-year-old father Max has asked Sam to accompany him to Washington, D.C. for a reunion of his crewmates from the Navy ship he sailed with during World War II. Managing the stress of life, Sam embarks on a final road trip with his father, exploring along the way not only his father’s lessons about handling adversity and heartache but exposing some long-kept secrets about his experience in the war.

Together, Max and Sam share a journey of understanding about loss and love and the challenges that each of us face as we go through life. Together, they recognize the ultimate lesson - that life can be a battle, but worth the fight.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9781665579308

Scott I. Zucker

Scott I. Zucker is an attorney and mediator based out of Atlanta, Georgia. He has previously published two fiction novels, Chain of Custody (2012) and Rally on Two (2018) and presented a TEDx talk on the topic of Ethical Wills. Scott is married and has two grown sons and two labradoodles.

Book preview

Chapter 1

T HE EYELIDS OF his old, tired eyes shifted as his dream became more vivid, and he grew more agitated with the stress of being witness again to the horror that had plagued his dreams for years.

In his fifties and sixties, he had drowned these dreams with bourbon and sleeping pills. But now that he was ninety, his doctor had warned him about the repercussions of mixing too much alcohol with his diabetes and high blood pressure medicines. He wasn’t trying to kill himself. He just didn’t want to keep reliving the events he knew had changed him forever.

He had received the invitation in the mail. This year, there would be a reunion for the crew of the USS Bunker Hill aircraft carrier on the anniversary of their most famous day of battle during World War II. The Navy recognized the date every ten years through different ceremonies scheduled around the country. He had missed every previous event, thinking there was no reason to congregate over the memory of a fateful experience. But it had now been seventy years, and this would likely be his last chance to acknowledge the anniversary. He was certain that only a handful of men would still be left. But this year, they would gather at the World War II Memorial in Washington, DC, a monument Max had not yet visited. He was curious about the reunion. He had kept the invitation by his bed. It was the invitation that had triggered the recurrence of the dreams.

Chapter 2

T HE BUNKER HILL had initially launched on December 7, 1942, exactly one year after the devastation and tragedy at Pearl Harbor. The naval ship was an Essex Class aircraft carrier, a massive vessel more than 800 feet long and 100 feet high and weighing over 36,000 tons. The carrier held more than 2,600 men and more than 100 planes above and below deck. It was a floating city.

By the end of 1944, the ship had already seen its share of the war in the Pacific theater. The ship had participated in air raids and flight support for amphibious landings of US troops in the Marshall and Marianas Islands. During those landings in the Marianas, the Bunker Hill suffered its first casualties when a Japanese aerial bomb scattered shrapnel across the sides and deck of the ship. Two sailors were killed, and another eighty were wounded. Notwithstanding heavy fire from Japanese warplanes, the Bunker Hill stood its ground, and its anti-aircraft fire brought down multiple planes. Even damaged, the Bunker Hill then fought in the Battle of the Philippine Sea and supported additional air raids on the Japanese Islands.

In November 1944, the ship returned to the Puget Sound Naval Yard in Bremerton, Washington, for repairs and a weapons upgrade. The ship dry-docked on November 6, 1944 and would remain there until late January 1945. New sailors would join its crew during its holdover. One of them was Max Silver. He was nineteen years old, a seaman first class.

Chapter 3

D AD, SAM CALLED out as he opened the house’s side door. That door was never locked, and Sam always wondered how it was possible that no one had ever even tried to rob the place. Dad, he called out again. It was Sunday, already after 10:00 in the morning. He was sure his dad was awake. He’d always been an early riser.

Sam carried the bag of fresh cold cuts, cream cheese, and bagels into the outdated kitchen and laid the white-wrapped packages of deli meats on the kitchen counter. The Sunday morning delivery had become a weekly tradition for Sam and his dad since Sam’s mom had passed away five years before. Sam knew that none of the food was good for his dad, but his dad was always so happy to have the visit and the food, so Sam didn’t want to change the routine.

Sam pulled a warm bagel from the bag, ready to start building himself a sandwich, when his dad replied. I’m in my office, Sam heard his father call out as he began to cut the bagel in half.

Sam left the sliced bagel on the table and walked down the hallway, past the antique-laden living room, into his dad’s small office. There were papers everywhere and several empty boxes on the floor. Dad, he exhaled, looking around. You’re moving in less than a month. I thought you had made some progress in going through this room!

I will. I will, his father replied, but I wanted to show you something first.

Sam thought his dad looked a little disoriented. What, Dad? What did you want to show me? he said, feeling a little exasperated and still thinking about the bagel and cold cuts waiting for him in the other room.

I wanted to show you this, his dad said, his voice softening as he spoke. Max pulled a pile of black and white photographs from his desk.

Instantly, Sam recognized the group of pictures. They were of assorted sizes, many of them yellowed around their edges. Dad, he said, These are amazing. I’m so glad you have these to look back on.

Seventy years, his dad replied. Seventy years.

Sam perused the assorted pictures of his father in his dress whites, group pictures with his Navy buddies, and photos of the crew, hundreds and hundreds of men, in perfect formation, spelling out the words Bunker Hill on the deck of the carrier.

It’s been seventy years, his dad said again.

Sam couldn’t even contemplate what those seventy years meant when his dad referenced the time. Sam was sixty, so the war was already a decade past by the time he was born. And in those seventy years since the end of the war, his father had gotten married, started a business, raised two adult children, and enjoyed two grandchildren. It was a bounty of time that seemed like forever but flashed by instantly.

It was then that his dad handed him the invitation. It read: Seventieth Reunion of the USS Bunker Hill. World War II Monument, Washington DC.

The event was scheduled for Saturday, May eleventh, less than two weeks away. Sam scanned the invitation and then handed it back to his father.

I’m going, his father said.

Really? Sam asked. In part, he was just trying to grasp the logistics of his elderly father getting anywhere, let alone to Washington, DC.

The embossed invitation was from the US Department of the Navy. It read, In recognition and celebration of the sailors from the USS Bunker Hill and their contribution and sacrifice to end World War II.

Dad. Sam was still trying to organize his thoughts. This is in less than two weeks. It’s probably too late to RSVP. Plus, we have to finish packing you up. You move into the senior living center on June first.

I want to go, his father said.

To Washington? Now? Why? Sam’s questions showed his confusion.

His father looked up and then picked up one of the faded black-and-white pictures of the Bunker Hill. It’s been seventy years, he said. It’s time for me to let it go.

Sam didn’t want to argue. He had come over because they had a lot of work to do packing up the house so that his father could move. He figured he’d return to the reunion discussion after packing up one of the bedrooms. How about a bagel, Dad?

Chapter 4

B EFORE THE WAR, Max had never left New York City. Maybe a few trips to Long Island but nothing like this. Since he enlisted, he had already taken a bus to Florida for basic training and then the transport plane to Washington state. Two hundred men sat in the plane. They were lined up in rows of ten each, dressed in full gear. Each time they hit turbulence, some men around him would vomit, but Max found the flight exhilarating. He was amazed that the plane could stay that long in the sky.

Buses were waiting at the Bremerton airport. The men moved in unison from the plane to the buses. The ride to the naval yard was short but scenic. Max was mesmerized by the views of the mountains that surrounded the city. As they arrived, the newly minted sailors were directed to their assigned ships. Max had no idea he would be sent to work on an aircraft carrier. As he walked with the other new crewmembers toward the carrier, he was overwhelmed by its size and shape. It was the largest ship he had ever seen.

After being assigned his bunk, he was ordered to report to the flight deck to be placed in a working group. Each working group was directed to perform certain repairs on the ship while it was dry-docked. The group would make the repairs during one shift, train for their regular duties during their second shift, and sleep during their third shift.

Max had been designated to the carrier to be a radar man. He showed an aptitude for mathematics and could study the radar screen and plot the movements of ships and planes that appeared on the digital map. Radar interception remained a relatively new phenomenon in the war. Max was proud to be one of the first to use the new equipment. He understood the responsibility of trying to forewarn the ship of impending aerial or submarine attacks. The better they were prepared, the stronger they could be to fight off the attacks. Max would soon learn how vital these skills were.

Max’s working group was ordered to install new steel armor plates around the pilot house, which was part of the ship’s Command Tower. The metalwork and riveting would take the men at least two weeks to install.

As each man reported to the assigned group, they saluted the ranking lieutenant. One of the first men Max met was Tony Carletto. Tony had transferred to the Bunker Hill after an assignment as a gunner’s mate on the USS Massachusetts. The Massachusetts had been part of the same task force as the Bunker Hill in the Marshall Islands. Tony had already served in the Pacific for over a year.

The lieutenant explained to the group of six men that they would do their welding work in two four-hour shifts with a break in the middle. Between shifts, if they weren’t in the mess hall getting coffee, they all gathered outside on the ship’s rail, smoking. It killed the monotony.

During one of the first breaks, as the men crowded along the deck, Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter he had received, waving it to show to his friends. The letter smelled of perfume. From home, he said.

‘Dear John’ letter? called out Ryan, one of the guys in the crew.

Nope. Tony retorted. She would never give this up! He gestured to show off his biceps to the other men, who laughed and whistled. Tony was from New Jersey. He prided himself in his Italian heritage, and his slicked-back hair showed off his ever-present confidence and swagger.

Max took a draw from his cigarette and laughed. He thought about Rose. The girl he had left behind.

Chapter 5

A S HE DROVE home from his dad’s house that Sunday afternoon, Sam reflected on the conversation he had just had with his father. He had asked Sam to take him to the reunion in DC, but Sam had hesitated.

Sam went over the reasons. Not only was the event in less than two weeks, but they still had to pack up the house in time for his move to the senior center. Plus, Sam worried about his dad’s health and ability to travel. On top of all that, Sam was thinking about work and what he would miss by taking his dad on the trip. Sam was managing one of the most significant litigation cases in his office. It was a bad time to take a trip, even just for a few days.

He could hear his dad repeat his position about the event. Son, I’m going, whether you take me or not.

Sam knew that he wasn’t going to have much choice. He just needed to figure out how to do it. He lived ten minutes from his father’s house or, as he would otherwise describe it, the house he grew up in. Nashville was a small suburban city. His mom and dad had lived there most of their lives, and Sam and his brother Ben had grown up there. About ten years ago, after many years away in New York, Sam had decided to move his family back. His return had made his parents happy. His older brother Ben had also come back, but under different circumstances. Sam had come back as the successful one. Ben had been the one who came back trying to find himself.

Sam parked the car and walked into his house through the garage entrance. The house Sam had bought when they moved back to Nashville was larger than what they could afford in New York. The house was in a well-regarded subdivision, close to the best schools that Nashville could offer.

Lynn, I’m home, Sam announced, assuming his wife would hear him wherever she was in the house as long as he was loud enough.

I’m upstairs, she replied.

I’ll be up soon. On instinct, he walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water. His eyes glanced through the shelves, hoping to find something sweet, a reward after the day he had endured with his dad while packing up the house. He pulled out a Tupperware container and pursued his curiosity. Sam felt disappointed but not surprised when the container revealed to only contain vegetables. Since their children Aaron and Lucy had grown up and moved out, there were never any snacks in the fridge. He and Lynn had been empty nesters for more than six years.

He grabbed a bottle of water and closed the refrigerator. He began his march upstairs, trying to figure out how he would explain to his wife what his father wanted to do.

In the stairwell, he looked at the family pictures on the wall. There were pictures of him and Lynn and family portraits of Aaron and Lucy when they were younger. There were also pictures of his family with his parents. He looked at his mom’s face. It had been five years already. Losing his mother had been hard for everyone, but nothing close to what it had done to his dad.

Hi, honey, Sam said as he walked into the room. Lynn was in her closet.

News from the front, Sam said as he sat on their bed and collapsed against the pillows that decorated the headboard.

She appeared from the closet, half-dressed.

What are you doing? Sam asked.

Trying clothes on. There are things in my closet I never wear.

Sam wondered if that was because he was usually too tired to take her anywhere.

How’s your dad? How’s the packing coming? she asked as she finished putting on some old sweats for the rest of their Sunday night.

You ready for this? Sam hesitated, trying to build excitement.

No. Sounds like I’m not. Lynn replied, familiar with her husband’s approach to telling stories.

He wants to go to DC for a reunion of his ship from World War II.

Reunion?’ the question lingered as she asked what seemed to be the obvious follow-up. Is there anyone left?"

Sam tried to explain his father’s words about the event. Dad told me that he has not gone to any reunion since his discharge, but it sounds like he has some unfinished business. Come on, he’s ninety years old. How do I say no to him for something like this? It sounds really important to him.

When is this supposed to happen? she asked.

May eleventh, he replied.

That’s in two weeks! She gave Sam a curious look, then walked over to her dresser and picked up her laptop. She climbed into bed, adjusting the throw pillows behind her. She then opened up her computer to research flights. Is it even safe for him to travel…to manage from the car through the terminal to the plane? She asked while she searched the travel sites.

He’s still using his walker and refuses to use a wheelchair, Sam said.

So, you’ll need to leave for the airport at least a week before your flight to give him time to walk the concourse. Lynn’s sarcasm was showing through.

Very funny, Sam said. Won’t be as funny when you and I are racing our walkers at the retirement home, he grinned at his wife. They had been married over thirty years already.

The flights are ridiculously expensive. Direct flights are over twelve hundred dollars for economy. She kept searching. What about driving? she suggested.

From Nashville to DC? What is that-eight hours? Sam asked.

Lynn again checked the information online. Ten, she responded. But that’s at the speed limit. We both know you drive slower than that. She laughed.

Again, not funny, he said. Ten hours in the car with my dad?

You can make it a road trip. We’ll find a nice place for you to stay overnight on the way there and on the way back. It will be a great chance for you to spend some quality time together.

Then she added, It really might be easier than managing through an airport and renting a car. She seemed captivated by the idea of organizing a nice travel experience for them.

You want to come with? Sam asked.

I would, Lynn said. But sounds like it’s a trip for two. She flashed a crooked smile.

Sam looked at his wife. She looked the same to him as the day they got married. He knew better than to disagree with her. One thing he knew: she was always right. He hated that. But there were things she just intuitively understood that he didn’t. And therefore, just like that, Sam knew that in less than two weeks, he and his dad would be