The Villages Daily Sun

“Am safe. Wire mother. Love, Roy”

— B-17 pilot’s telegram to his wife on Dec. 7, 1941

Oral surgery. That was what landed us in a waiting room in Ocala.

Sterling was to have one of his white pearlies removed. I was along for moral support and to chauffer him home safely after the procedure.

These occasions, for me, require a cache of supplies for handling the boredom of a long wait — needlework, the Daily Sun (especially the puzzle page), a pen (I pride myself on doing crossword puzzles in ink), bottled water, a novel and a magazine.

A little overprepared, you say? I’m not good at waiting — although it beats having a tooth pulled — so I want to be sure I keep busy.

Since it was to be a long wait, the stitchery seemed a good place to start. I unfolded the project and lined up the scissors, thread, needle-threader and pattern on the end table. I carefully studied the design to remember where I was in the process.

Finally ready, I lifted the needle and just as it was about to pierce the fabric, a voice next to me asked, “Are you waiting for someone?”

Not wanting to lose my concentration, I politely answered, “My husband,” and lifted the needle again.

The voice then said, “You are very smart to come productively prepared for the wait.”

He fiddled with a few magazines, and not finding anything interesting, let out a deep sigh.

OK, I thought, I guess the nice thing to do would be to talk with this gentleman.

Putting the needle down, I made a comment about how I dislike waiting. He told me about the only doctor’s office where he had enjoyed the wait.

It was somewhere up north. The doctor loved aviation and had an extensive photo gallery on all of the waiting room walls showing airplanes of the World War II era.

My temporary companion went on to discuss how pleased he was to find a picture of a B-17, which was the plane he flew in the war. To show a little interest, I asked where he was stationed during the conflict.

He took a deep breath, looking as though he was thinking, “I thought you’d never ask.” His next statement knocked me for a loop: “I was the co-pilot on the first American plane shot down at Pearl Harbor in 1941.”

With that, I fastened my needle to the fabric and set my project aside on the end table. This was getting interesting!

For the next 20 minutes or so, I was treated to a most interesting narration of Lt. Roy Reid’s experiences on that fateful day.

He was a member of the 38th Reconnaissance Squadron, then en route to the Philippines on a permanent change of station.

“Damn it! Those are real bullets they’re shooting. I’m hit in the leg.” With these words — the last spoken by squadron flight surgeon, 1st Lt. William R. Schick — their troubles became apparent. They were soon to become the first U.S. airplane crew shot down in World War II.

His story was so exciting that I felt as though I was right there with them in the air. Imagine my fascination when he said, “One item turned out to be of great significance: While we had all of our guns on the plane, we had no ammunition. We were scheduled to pick up the ammunition in Hawaii and carry it with us to the Philippines.”

Before I knew it, we were interrupted by a nurse asking me to come back to talk with the surgeon in preparation for the trip home. I could hardly tear myself away. The needlework was hastily stuffed into the tote bag.

Quickly, Mr. Reid told me that his story had appeared in the Air Force Magazine’s 50th Anniversary of Pearl Harbor Commemorative Issue and that I could find it online at erbzine.com/mag7/0718.html (scroll down on that page to “Shot Down at Pearl Harbor” for the rest of the story.)

Life certainly is full of surprises. What should have been a tiresome, dull morning turned out to be an interesting glimpse into the past.

How very interesting that was! I had my own personal interview of a real-live person who was there and lived to tell about it. That beats hearing about it on TV. And, it really beats trying to pass the time on my own.

In the future, as I am amassing my waiting-room busy work, I must remember to keep myself open for unexpected happenings.

This week, I hope you will have at least one unanticipated, pleasant surprise. Keep yourself open to the possibilities. You never know what might happen. I’ll look forward to meeting you here again, next Friday, On the Bright Side.

Nancy Wood is a freelance writer living in The Villages with her husband, Sterling. She can be reached at Villagewriter@aol.com.