On Wings of the Morning (18 page)

There'll be bluebirds over

The white cliffs of Dover

Tomorrow, just you wait and see

Otto sang along with the song as he and Alice danced close to each other. She looked up at him. “You dance better than you sing,” she laughed.

“I know,” he admitted. “Someone else told me the same thing once.”

“A girl back in the States?”

“Yes.”

“Your girlfriend?”

“More like a friend.”

“Yes, I see.”

The song ended; the couples applauded and everyone started to drift off.

“I enjoyed dancing with you,” Otto told Alice.

“Yes, you’re quite a good dancer.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you see me home? That is, if you think you can find your way back.”

“I’ll count on some nice British girl helping me find the way.”

Alice laughed. “If you’re lucky, leftenant. If you’re lucky.”

They walked along the cobbled streets, wet with rain which had fallen while they were at the dance. Alice lived about fifteen blocks down the High Street and a couple of blocks east. Otto knew that he could find his way back easily. Alice was in a reflective mood as she walked along holding Otto’s arm.

“So, what was your life like before the war?” she asked.

“I grew up on a dairy farm, so I spent a lot of time around cows.”

“Did you like that?”

“Not at all. I wanted to fly at an early age. An airport went in next to the farm and I spent my free time hanging around there. One thing led to another and I got a job there and learned to fly.”

“Is that typical of American pilots?”

“I don’t know. Things just fell into place for me.”

“Do you still enjoy flying?”

“There’s not much time on a mission to think about whether I like it or not. There are moments of beauty but also times of sheer terror. We’ve had two missions. We need twenty-five to be rotated back home. That’s a lot of missions.”

Alice was silent for a moment. “Are you ever frightened on a mission?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t but I keep it under control by thinking about how I can protect my crew and my airplane. It’s worked out well so far, but I think it’s a matter of luck. Or divine protection. I’m not sure which.” Otto stopped for a second. “Now it’s my turn to ask you some questions.”

“Fair enough.”

“How long have you been in the Red Cross?”

“Since 1940. A lot of girls signed up after the Battle of Britain. It was a way we could serve, and of course Her Majesty Elizabeth joined up as well.”

“What did you do before that?”

“I was in school: what did you expect?”

Otto was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said. ” I didn’t mean to be short with you. It’s just that the past three years have been terribly difficult with food and everything else rationed. I think we Brits tend to say what we’re thinking anyhow and sometimes it comes out harder than I intended. I am fond of you already and really hope we can be friends.”

“I bet you have a lot of guys wanting to be your friend.”

“Not as many as you would think. I’m on the plain side.”

“Now, come on, Alice, you’re no Jane Eyre.”

“Well, aren’t you literary, leftenant? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I meant it as one. I think you’re beautiful.”

“Well, thank you. I suppose I’ll do in a pinch, but if you pinch me, I’ll slap you. Here’s my house.”

They stopped in front of a yellow two-story with flower boxes on all the windows. “I’ll say my good-bye here. Thank you for a lovely evening.”

They stood there for a moment, reluctant for the evening to end.

“I’d like to see you again,” Otto said.

“I’m conveniently at the base in the afternoon dealing doughnuts and coffee to the returning airman,” Alice said.

“I’ve never seen you,” Otto told her.

“I don’t think you ever came in. We’re in the mess hall.”

“To tell the truth, I never wanted doughnuts and coffee after a mission. I might be starting to develop a taste for them, though.”

‘I’ll be there the day after tomorrow. I’ll see you then. We can have tea afterward.”

“Well, how very British! Pip, pip, cheerio!”

“You are such a Yank, Otto,” Alice smiled. She moved toward him and kissed him on the lips. Otto staggered backward with surprise and then returned the kiss. After a while, she broke away, saying, “I have to go in.” She took a key out of the pocket of her coat, opened the door and hesitated. “Good night, dear Otto, and thank you for a wonderful time.”

“Good night, sweet Alice,” Otto said as she disappeared. He started his way back, feeling not so much that he walked as he floated above the ground. What a wonderful girl—young woman. The future looked brighter suddenly. Now all he had to do was survive the next mission. And the ones after it.

***

Otto searched the crowded mess hall crammed with fliers after the mission. This one had not been so bad, and they were back in five hours. He finally spotted Alice handing coffee out at a table off to one side. He shouldered his way through the crowd and approached her table. She had her eyes down and absently held out a coffee cup in his direction. He took it and then took her hand. Her eyes flashed up, and then she recognized him. “Otto! So good to see you! I’ll be done in half an hour and we can go out then.”

“I’ll change out of my flight clothes and be back in half an hour.”

“All right. See you in a bit.”

He rushed back to the hut and changed in record time. As he came into the mess hall, he saw most of the troops had left. A thin lieutenant stood talking to Alice. She did not appear to be enjoying his attentions. She looked at Otto with relief. “Here’s my date. Are you ready to go, darling?”

“I’m all ready for you, sweetheart,” Otto returned. The lieutenant slunk away, disappointment on his face.

Alice and Otto walked through the living area, across the road and by the flight line. They crossed the street into the town.

“May I say you look very beautiful in your uniform?”

Alice smiled and took his hand. “And you in yours, leftenant.”

Otto pulled on the bill of his hat. “Thank you, ma’am.”

They soon came to a somewhat neglected looking tea shop called “The Tea Shoppe.”

“Imaginative name,” Otto opined as they walked in.

“Oh? How are you at naming things?”

“Well, about the only thing I’ve named is my aircraft.”

“What’s it called?”

“
Mata Maria.”

“Is that your girlfriend’s name?”

“It’s a combination of my sister’s name and my mother’s.”

Alice grew serious. “How was the mission today?”

“Not bad. Of course, it can be a good mission for everyone else and a bad day for you. It was a good day, I’m happy to say.”

“I’m happy as well.”

A portly woman in a stained white apron indicated they could sit at a table near the smudged windows. “We’ll have the tea, please,” Alice told her.

The woman grunted, went into the back and came back a few minutes later bearing a tray holding two teacups, a teapot and an assortment of scones. She set it before them and walked away.

“Sociable, ain’t she?” whispered Otto.

“I’d say,” Alice replied out of the side of her mouth. “That’s the mother. Usually the daughter does the serving and she’s simply lovely. I don’t know where she is. Here, let me pour.”

She took the teapot and deftly poured two cups full of the tawny amber liquid. She handed one to Otto. “Now to have a proper tea, we must converse on matters of the mind. Or gossip if we can’t think of any.”

Otto put sugar in his cup and squeezed a lemon into it. “Well, we can talk about literature. What about poetry this time?”

“Oh, good. Don’t you just love the Romantics?”

“Wordsworth, Keats and Shelley are some of my favorites.”

Otto recited,

“I wander’d lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.”

Alice clapped her hands, “Lovely!” she said. “Do you know more?”

“I have quite a few memorized, but I don’t want to bore you. Why don’t we talk for a while and then I’ll recite some more.
”

“Fair enough,” Alice returned, “but just one more poem. Do you ever think of a poem on a mission?”

“Funny thing,” Otto told her. “I thought of one on the way back. We’re too busy on the way in to think of much more than flying the aircraft. But I did think of part of one by the American poet Emily Dickinson,

Because I could not stop for Death—

He kindly stopped for me—

The carriage held just ourselves

And Immortality.”

Alice let out her breath. “How keenly intelligent that is. She makes Death sound almost…cordial.”

“The rest of the poem carries that out. He’s a suitor taking her on an outing.”

“One she won’t come back from.”

“I think that’s why I thought of it. Death stops for so many airmen. I’m not sure it’s as cordial as in Miss Dickinson’s poem.”

They both sat silently for a moment. “Here,” Alice suddenly said. “Try a scone.”

“Where are the cookies?”

“You mean the biscuits? There aren’t any. It’s wartime.”

They sat silently for a moment. Alice said, “What you Yanks call a biscuit is entirely different, isn’t it? What is a ‘biscuit’ across the Pond?”

“Well, it’s kind of like a baked muffin, but made from dough.”

Alice wrinkled her nose. “Sounds perfectly awful.”

“They’re great with butter and jelly. They’re usually served with breakfast, though, so we wouldn’t be eating them now anyhow. These scones are good.”

“Glad you like them.”

They smiled at each other, and Otto took her hand. “I’m glad you came to the dance the other night.”

She smiled. “To tell the truth, I don’t usually go to the dances. I went hoping I’d see you there.”

“I wasn’t planning on going. My co-pilot persuaded me. I was so glad to see you again.”

“I think we make a great couple. You’re different from the other Americans I’ve known.”

Otto sat still for a moment. “In the words of that famous philosopher, Popeye the Sailor Man, ‘I yam what I yam.’”

Alice laughed again. “On that note, I think we should leave. I need to go help my mum with the grocery shopping.”

“I’d like to meet your parents some time,” Otto said, helping Alice with her coat.

“You will, Otto. Why don’t you come over Friday evening about six and have dinner with us? It won’t be much, but it would give you a chance to meet my parents and for them to meet up.”

“All right,” Otto said as they reached her house. “See you then.”

She kissed him, and this time he responded eagerly. “Be careful and come back to me.”

“I will,” he said.

Otto and Donovan walked wearily from the hardstand where the
Mata Maria
was parked. One more mission down, Otto thought. Number eighteen. Seven more to go. Maybe. There seemed to be the same superstition as in baseball that you didn’t say aloud how many were left, be it missions or outs.

Otto was glad he was having dinner with Alice that evening. It would be a welcome change from the all-male company he kept all the time. He found his thoughts slipping to her and had to force himself to concentrate on the mission. She was so easy to relate to. It was as if they had known each other all their lives. She was like, well, she was like Betty in that respect. He wondered briefly what Betty was doing and then thought that he didn’t care.

He and Donovan went back to barracks and took a nap. Donovan got up to wash for dinner. “You ready to go?” he asked Otto.

“I’ve got a date.”

“That British girl?”

“Yep.”

“She’s a looker, all right.”

“She’s a very nice girl, Bob.”

“Right-o,” Donovan, gave him a half salute, and went off in the direction of the mess hall. Otto made his now-familiar way to the little yellow house. He stopped by a flower shop on the way and bought a bouquet of mixed flowers. He got to the door and knocked twice.

There was the sound of feet coming to the door, and Alice opened it, smiling radiantly as she saw him. She was wearing an apron. “Otto, come in. I’ll put these in water. They’re
lovely.
”