Wings (24 page)

“There isn’t anything the Army can do. I’m not enlisted, don’t forget. Not military. I’m on my own.”

“I meant…” Trent hesitated.

“What? You meant what?” Liddy looked at Trent with a vacancy. The luster was gone from her eyes and she stared at him with a sadness that made him feel powerless. He couldn’t comfort her the way he wanted to, and the frustration made his whole body tense.

Liddy turned again and left the office. Trent shut the door, walked over to pick up the telegram from the floor and slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Enthusiasm is contagious
when you want to be infected, but when you don’t it will scrape your spirit like sandpaper. Liddy kept her pain to herself and didn’t tell her friends, not even Louise, of her loss that day. She stretched a big smile and followed any lead to joke and laugh. They had all worked so hard for this day and Liddy didn’t want to put one ounce of damper on it. But even through the pain, the day was one of purpose and a quiet joy bathed Liddy. She imagined Jack walking effortlessly and flying again. And she wondered if he would be able to watch the whole deal, which he wouldn’t have been able to do from his hospital bed. What a kick he would get out of it all.

As they prepared for their graduation ceremony, great attention was given to make-up, hair and the proper button and tuck of their new WASP duds. The mirror was giddy over the attention it was getting, and everyone lined up for a turn at Marina’s paint bag.

Forty-one women, almost half the number that began with their class, still remained and the survivors assembled outside the barracks to march to the line. As they paraded around the primary hanger, the graduates could see row after row of WASP trainees set in columns in front of the planes on the line. All wore their crisp white shirts, general’s pants and overseas caps. The planes were also decked out and paid tribute to the graduates. Parked in perfect rows and standing at attention in all their shiny goodness, the planes honored the graduates as well.

Wrapped up in their Santiago Blues, the graduating class marched silently. All that could be heard was the tap of their heels until they reached the underclasswomen who were waiting for them. The trainees sang out with the words of the graduate’s own song as they passed, “There goes the HPs of Avenger Field. Wings of silver will be their shield. Watch them fly you’ll know it’s true. They are the queens of the open blue. So take note all you recruits. If you wanna be tops then follow suit.”

The chorus got louder as each class fell into the procession behind the graduates. The tribute filled the soon-to-be Women Airforce Service Pilots with tremendous pride. “Then you’ll be an HP of Avenger Field. Wings of silver will be your shield. At the end of the war—you’ll be part of the great WASP lore. There goes the HPs of Avenger Field. Wings of silver will be their shield.”

Mr. and Mrs. Bailey were at the edge of their seats, waving enthusiastically as their daughter marched by the audience. Calli sat with Joy Lynn’s family, and she cradled her swollen belly in her arms.

The Calbert Clan was a noisy and jolly bunch. Mama and Daddy Calbert, Joy Lynn’s four younger sisters, aunts, uncles and a few cousins—a full Southern brigade was there to cheer on their Joy Lynn. The hair was high and the hats were big. Pretty silver flasks were safely tucked in pockets and purses, and clearly they had already been tilted a few times. It was easy to see they were Joy Lynn’s people. Uncle Geoffrey was there—yes, Uncle Pastel Puffy. He flitted about in a striped silk suit that was touched off with a bright violet satin vest and tie. A flowered silk hanky draped neatly from his breast pocket. Liddy had never seen such beautiful clothes on a man.

The new senior class took their place at the head of the formation, which signaled the graduates that they were no longer trainees. The women sat reverently in the front rows, listening to Colonel Wate gush over them from the podium. Finally, he said the words they were all waiting to hear, “Graduates, will you please stand to receive your wings.”

Those glorious words broke the formality that had its grip on the women, and the women wore a sea of smiles. With a respectable military clip, the graduates rose from their seats and filed out and up to the platform. Captain Charles called each name and the women crossed the stage to shake Colonel Wate’s hand. He had a word of praise or encouragement for every graduate, and genuine happiness glowed on his rosy cheeks. The graduates then stepped to Major Trent to receive their wings.

“You fell in, Hall. Congratulations!” were the words Colonel Wate had for Liddy.

Trent had his right hand extended when Liddy stepped in front of him. She placed her hand in his and he held it tight as he set her wings in her left hand. He looked down at her and didn’t let go, even when another trainee was waiting to receive her wings.

After the ceremony, parents and in some cases husbands, aunts or uncles pinned the wings on the WASP graduates. Bet’s mother did the honors for her. Geoffrey insisted on doing the pinning for Joy Lynn. He was after all the one who would make sure it was done correctly. Calli pinned Marina, Louise and Liddy and, for the rest of their lives, they would remember the moment with crystal clarity.

A reception was held in the rec hall and then the graduates scattered, but came back together in the evening to set off the fire bell and offer up their last dose of rowdy to the base. The following day they would leave Avenger Field and have long trips home for most of them, but that didn’t get them wound-down any earlier. The girls slept less than three hours before they heard reveille, which wasn’t for them, and they rolled over and smiled.

All of the mattresses were stripped bare
and the lockers were empty. Gosport’s tail floated back and forth as he strolled along the porch, saying goodbye to his fans. After he had bid his final farewell, he found a warm spot where the October Texas sun had heated up the concrete, and he stretched out to wait for his next round of admirers.

The baymates were in their dress uniforms as they finished packing. Four suitcases were laid across Marina’s bed and she shuffled her belongings between them.

Bet sat on her suitcase, while Liddy tried to latch it for her. “I had room to spare when I got here.”

The suitcases were
click, click, clicked
closed just as Joy Lynn came into the bay. “The cattle car just pulled in with some of the new class. Now it’s ready and waiting for us, ladies.”

“They’re wasting no time booting us outta here,” complained Bet.

“They can boot away,” Marina pushed her cases to the end of her bed.

“Our chariot awaits, HPs,” said Louise and she and Joy Lynn each grabbed their bags and one of Marina’s and walked to the door. Louise looked back at Liddy and Bet and asked, “You coming?”

“We’re right behind you,” said Liddy as Bet took one last swipe at some luck from the top of their heads before they walked out the door.

“Hey, watch it, Red, this isn’t flight hair here,” Marina said smoothing her silky mane.

Liddy clicked her suitcase closed then walked into the bathroom and stood at the mirror where she carefully buttoned her jacket and stared blankly at her reflection.

“Are you okay?” Bet asked.

Liddy snapped out of her trance. “Yeah, fine.”

Bet rubbed the top of Liddy’s head.

“Don’t take it all, Bailey.”

“I need to store it up.” Bet looked hard at Liddy and studied her, deep in thought. “What if you’d climbed into another train car the day we met and we hadn’t shared a bay and…? I feel like I can do anything now. And I don’t believe I would have made it, had you not chosen that train car.”

“As much as I’d love to take the credit for giving the world a fabulous pilot, there’s nothing I could have done to give you what you had to have inside. You just didn’t know it was there.” Liddy wrapped her arms around Bet’s little frame and gave a tight squeeze. She brushed her hand over the red curls and said, “For luck.”

They picked up their suitcases, took one last glance around the room and left their bay for the last time.

Twenty-two and a half weeks earlier
these women stepped onto Avenger Field for the first time. They were all so very different from one another, different backgrounds, education, families, pasts, but with one thing in common—they were fly girls. That day they all left the base in WASP uniforms with a common purpose, a common dream and wings.

Solemnly, the women climbed into the cattle car to take the three mile ride to Sweetwater. There they would board trains and buses, or climb into an automobile to take a ten day leave before they began the next chapter in their lives. The newest batch of Women’s Airforce Service Pilots didn’t talk but sang their song softly to one another.

Major Trent watched from a distance as the graduates disappeared into the trailer and the truck pulled away. War complicated life, and life complicated war and an urgency to do something brave ran through him.

The trailer rolled out the front gates
of Avenger Field and bumped and shimmied over the ruts in the road. Joy Lynn and Marina broke the somber mood in the car when they started battling with one of their crude and proper bits. The gals laughed and soon the dreaming and bragging picked up speed. The trailer filled with celebration as the women reveled in their accomplishment.

A mile or so back, a cloud of dust was kicked up behind an Army jeep and gained on the WASP cargo by the minute. The trainees heard the honking of a horn and looked out the window to see the jeep lining up with the cab of the truck.

“It’s Major Trent,” Bet reported.

“Hey, Hall, looks like they forgot to give you a pink slip,” Carla Vanell cracked. The gals all hooted and joined the tease.

The cattle car driver hit the brakes and rolled to a stop. Trent skidded alongside, parked the jeep and walked to the back of the trailer. He stood at the end of the car and called out, “WASP Liddy Hall.”

The women’s eyes widened with surprise—
had their prophecy come true?
All attention was on Liddy as she left the bench and opened the door. She stood in the opening and looked out at Trent who was out of breath and glistened with sweat.

“Miss Hall, can I see you for a moment?” He walked to the side of the trailer and waited for her.

Liddy took the steps to the road, walked around the corner and stood in front of him. Even in her confrontations with him, the Major had always had an air of calm and it had aggravated her. Standing here in front of him now, he was anything but calm. He had the glow of someone who just did the exact thing he wanted to do—and was surprised that he had done it. She saw the twinkle and sensed the current, and the smirk was about to break through.

Major Trent pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “You left this in my office.”

Liddy looked up and saw face after face peering through the windows from inside the trailer, and she turned her back to the nosey WASPs. On the inside of the envelope was the telegram from the hospital, bringing her the news of Jack’s death. On the outside was written,
Please write to me: Maj. Reidburn Trent,
and the address where she could send letters to him overseas.

Liddy looked up at him, smiled and said simply, “Thanks.”

She slipped the envelope inside her jacket and took in as much as she could of the man. His smirk jeweled his face and she stored it in her mind as she climbed back into the trailer. When she sat down on the bench, the heat of curiosity zinged at her from every side, back and corner of the space.

“Hey, Georgia, you were telling us about the first thing you were gonna do when you hit civilization, don’t leave us hanging girl,” Louise demanded.

Joy Lynn chomped on the bait and kicked right in where she had left off. Soon the gals were laughing and sharing their own plans. Liddy looked at Louise with thanks.

When the sister-friends parted
to go their separate ways, the goodbyes were purposefully brief. Bet would be driving to Dallas with her parents and flying back to Boston, and Joy Lynn would drive home with Calli and her folks in the Calbert Caravan.

The cattle car dropped the women at the Blue Bonnet Hotel, and Bet and Joy Lynn met up with their families. Liddy and Marina walked together to the station, but left Sweetwater on different trains. Marina was going to California and Liddy home to Missouri. Louise took a bus home to Colorado, so she had waited with some of the other gals in front of the hotel.

Liddy’s train had its share of WASPs and servicemen, but she kept to herself for most of the trip. She wasn’t sure what to write, but she wrote a letter or really more of a note to Major Reid Trent that day:

October 28, 1943

Dear,
(what should she call him?)

My ride into Sweetwater was bumpy, of course, kind of like flying the Vultee. I hope to be home by the end of the week. My father’s funeral will be on Saturday and I will spend the rest of my leave at home in Missouri.

Wishing you safety overseas,

Liddy,
(should it be just Liddy, or Liddy Hall, or LLH—she couldn’t decide.)