Though Tony King is sharp and alert at the age of 94, a part of him is trapped forever in the summer of 1945.
He time-travels there when he speaks of it—even as he sits in a wheelchair near the lone window in his San Francisco apartment. King's eyes mist over as he tells his story, and with his arms swimming in the sleeves of an old blue bathrobe, his hands draw pictures in the air.
He is young again. It has been days since his ship, USS Indianapolis, was sunk from under him, and he is among hundreds of sailors fighting for their lives in the center of the Philippine Sea. Hundreds have already died of wounds or dehydration. Now, among those still living, many are losing their minds.
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