Sunday, though it could be any day, as the road trip has made hay of the necessity of knowing which day of the week it is. Up early to meet Jessica for breakfast in the galley – Navy speak for the mess hall – but upon arrival, we learn that no civilians are allowed, so we are turned away. This means that misinformation was given to us yesterday regarding eating dinner here. Hah, this is from the group responsible for information dominance.
The last reference is about Jessica’s job in the Navy, where she is being trained in data interpretation. Jessica did her basic training in Chicago, Illinois, and is quickly approaching the end of her first year of a four-year commitment. Here at Corry Station near Pensacola, Florida, she is in her next phase of training. Today, we had the chance to see Jess in her dress uniform; she donned it, especially for Auntie and Grandpa. She is too tired to change into her civilian clothes after hanging out until four in the morning, so we leave the base to get some breakfast.
Without a lot of dining options, we resign ourselves to the only choice in town, Waffle House. Afterward, Pensacola Naval Air Station and the National Museum of Naval Aviation await our visit. The air station couldn’t be better kempt; like any military installation I have ever visited, it is immaculate. With this station here on the Florida coast and its own wide stretch of white sandy beaches, this looks like an ideal assignment for any sailor. Getting on the installation was easy enough; Jessica simply waved her badge; for anyone else, you will only need proof of insurance, vehicle registration, and identification for everyone in the car.
The Museum opened at 9:00 a.m., and we were nearly the first visitors there. Auntie opted for the guided tour, so we got her a wheelchair. She and Jessica headed off on their own while Grandpa and I meandered amongst the more than 100 aircraft on display in this large facility. Our first stop is at a Blue Angels jet and I goad Grandpa into crawling up the ladder and shimmying into the pilot’s seat. Grandpa sends me a wave from the cockpit; I snap it and nearly need a can opener to pry him back out of the cramped quarters.
I asked a staff member if a P-38 might be found here, and while the Navy never used the P-38, the Museum does have one on display anyway. This plane is important to Grandpa as it is the one he was helping build while working for Curtis Aircraft in Buffalo, New York, before the war.
Occasionally, I see Jessica pushing Auntie between aircraft as they take their own path through the museum. After the P-38, we look at amphibious aircraft, a bi-plane, various old and modern fighters, helicopters, fighters brought back from watery graves, some old rare examples from an early flight, along with a good amount of photos that show the times when some of the craft were in service.
After an hour and a half and Grandpa tiring, we leave the museum.
It is a 50-mile drive northwest to the outskirts of Mobile, Alabama, where we head to walk the decks of the World War II-era battleship U.S.S. Alabama. Auntie has never been on a battleship. She had enquired in her more youthful days about the possibility of finding employment doing something on a large seacraft but came up empty-handed. So today, at 93 years old, Auntie has her first opportunity to spend time on a battleship.
Being a great sport, Auntie poses with the big guns on the front of the ship as we are both amazed at the size and weight of everything around us. We read the plaques along the way, and we both wonder out loud what it must have been like out on war-torn waters with guns blazing and aircraft attacking.
Jessica and Grandpa wander off to inspect the decks below and the tower above. An hour passes here at the memorial park before we start on our way back to the car. Grandpa was supposed to take a look at a submarine on display here, but after walking the ship and the air museum, he decided he’d had enough walking and let Jessica go on her own.
By the time we get back to Pensacola, it is already time to drop off Jessica so we can resume our trek southeast. Goodbye is too quick. I gave her some words of encouragement and told her to be determined to maintain pride in herself, her family, and her family name by remaining upstanding and doing the right thing no matter the difficulty. I hug her, telling her how great the short amount of time I have had with her, but regrettably, I forget to tell my daughter how much I love her.
Although I hope she knows just how much I love her as I am here with family just to say hello and spend time with her, I still feel that I lost an opportunity to tell her in person. So, I am taking the time here to let my daughter, Jessica Nicole Wise, know that her father loves her and is happy to see her making the best out of what she has undertaken. Good luck, Jess!
It is later than we planned for in leaving Pensacola, so the drive to Apalachicola is expedient and without fanfare. Maybe two stops for a photo, a bathroom stop or two, a quick snack at McDonald’s, and it’s drive, drive, drive.
Outside of Port St. Joe, we move into Eastern Standard Time, arriving at our Best Western Hotel in Apalachicola near 8:30 p.m. Another unloading of the car, situating the folks in their room, and then running over to my room to do the same. Dinner tonight is fast food from Burger King – our junk food day. The King is the only place opened this late, Apalachicola is a small town.