“I told Agnes that it couldn’t possibly be true,” Mrs. Louise chimed in as an attempt in her defense, her cheeks now rose-colored. “I told her I would prove it to her, I would. And now here we are, the both of you exhausted, and it’s all my fault.”
Just then, the grandfather clock in the entrance hall of the flat rang out its announcement of the midnight hour. Both Eliza and Grace stood. Eliza smoothed down the back of her skirt with her hand. “As you can see, no tails. We’re still human beings. Two arms. Two legs. That’s it. Just like you.”
Miss Agnes pushed herself to her feet and extended her hand to Eliza. “Please accept our sincerest apologies.”
“I accept.” Eliza took the proffered hand and shook it. “A mean trick was played on you at our expense.”
“We insist that we make it up to you. We have enjoyed your company so. Please say you’ll come back for afternoon tea. We’ll have you back home before dusk. You have our word.”
Mrs. Louise eagerly nodded her head in agreement. “And you must take our torches with you to get safely back home.”
The older woman handed them each a flashlight with brown paper over the illuminated end to dim it in accord with local blackout regulations.
Grace smiled. “How could we say no to an offer like that?”
ONCE OUTSIDE, GRACE shared a good laugh with Eliza over the unexpected turn that their evening had taken. She grabbed Eliza’s arm as she attempted to stifle a giggle with her other hand. “Girl, what on earth . . . ?”
“I was starting to feel bad since I all but dragged you to come with me tonight.” Eliza sniffed as she attempted to get herself together. “All I know is, if I ever figure out which one of these white boy GIs told those two sweet ladies that lie, someone is going to get a piece of my mind.”
“And to think I mistook you for a prissy miss the first time I met you.”
“Ouch. My feelings.” Eliza playfully clutched her chest to be dramatic. Grace wasn’t the first person to make that assumption about her. The prissy rich-girl veneer was something she had been molded into her entire life. She was just glad that her friend had finally been able to see through it. She rolled her eyes at her former nemesis.
Grace knocked her in the shoulder. “Girl, please. We both know that you’re made of tougher stuff than that.”
“You’re damn right I am.”
They turned the corner onto the main road that would lead them back to their quarters at the King Edward School. The back of Eliza’s neck prickled. Even with the blackout in effect, the difference between the residential street and the main drag was drastic, going from little blips of light peeking from behind blackout shades to total darkness.
Much darker than that train platform in Kentucky had been. The flashlights they had been given provided them only so much visibility. They could see maybe two feet in front of them. Anything could be lurking in the darkness. Watching them. Waiting for the right moment to attack. Eliza picked up her pace, leaving Grace in the dust.
“Hey, wait up!”
“No, you hurry up,” Eliza called back over her shoulder. Behind her, she heard the pounding of footsteps coming closer. Common sense told her that it was only Grace catching up. But common sense had not been her default line of thinking since she had been attacked.
“If anything were to happen out here,” Grace huffed between breaths once she caught up, “we stand a better chance if we’re not separated.”
“True, but the faster we walk, the sooner we get to safety.” Eliza did not let up on her pace, now grateful for all those hated miles she had been forced to run during her early days in the corps.
“I’ve got your back, you know. You’re not alone. Not like . . .” Grace’s voice drifted off. For that, Eliza was grateful.
“The only thing that would’ve changed had you been there with me that night is that we would’ve been in the hospital together, instead of me being there alone.”
They continued to trudge along in silence for a beat. Eliza mulled over what she had said, realizing for the first time that she was relieved no one else had been hurt that night in Kentucky.
“I know you’re tired of hearing me say it, but I am so sorry—”
“I know.” Eliza cut her off. As annoying as Grace’s never-ending apologies had become, the anger she’d had toward her had begun to ease. But the energy behind it was still there, itching beneath her skin. It was time to do something more productive with it. Tonight’s adventure had given her an idea as to what that something could be.
“What were Mrs. Louise and Miss Agnes saying about jujitsu back there?”
“That was Mrs. Louise. Something about it being popular among the young people here and that her son had been into it. Why?”
“The corps’ policy about refusing to give us guns or any weapons training doesn’t sit right with me. If I had been armed that night, then maybe . . .” Eliza paused. “Or even if we were armed now, I wouldn’t be as freaked out. What if I arrange for the battalion to have self-defense classes? Then maybe we’d have a fighting chance if any one of us got cornered again.”
“I think that’s a great idea, Eliza.”
“Great. I’ll get started on setting it up tomorrow.”
A WEEK LATER, Eliza stood at attention with tears threatening to stream down her face. The cool morning breeze burned her eyes, but that was not the cause of her tears. She had made good on her plans to set up self-defense training for the unit. Last night had been the first class. She was paying for it now. Every muscle in her body was on fire.
It had been torture dragging herself out of bed earlier. The cup of watered-down coffee she had been able to snag hadn’t helped any. A nice warm bath would have been better. She hadn’t had the opportunity to enjoy that type of luxury in over a year. The wind cracked its whip against her face again. This time, she was too tired to blink the tears away.
By the time her section was ordered forward to be presented, she was marching blind.
Eliza, along with the 6888th Battalion’s afternoon work shift, had been ordered out to the parade grounds because some high-ranking general from London was coming to inspect them.
The problem with being the only all-Negro WAC unit in Europe was that every general stationed in England felt it was his duty to come to Birmingham to see “what them Colored girls were about.” Eliza’s friend Charity, now the battalion’s commanding officer, had been working magic to make sure that these visits, which in truth were really intentional disruptions to their assigned mission, were spaced out and had the least impact on the daily operations. Which was why the remainder of the battalion was either working the morning shift or sleeping off the overnight shift.
Luckily, the women of the Six Triple Eight had become adept at accommodating these requests so that the military brass came and went as quickly as possible. Today’s inspection by Lieutenant General Eugene Butler seemed to be no different from the rest.
Eliza’s part of the procession stopped before the grandstand. As the officer over Special Services, she stood behind the unit’s executive leadership team. The wind was now behind them, giving her an opportunity to clear her eyes enough to get a good look at their latest visitor. Lieutenant General Butler resembled a bulldog. He looked like the type of Army brass who strolled through the mess hall at the busiest times just for the kick of having the most soldiers saluting him all at once.
Butler puffed his chest out then grunted his approval. Eliza followed her battalion leadership onto the dais.
“Yep, he’s definitely that type,” she muttered under her breath.
Charity glanced back just long enough to shush her, then returned her attention to the next row of WAC soldiers approaching the dais to be reviewed. Eliza swallowed back the yawn that threatened to crawl out of her throat.
Oh yeah, once this guy was gone, she was definitely going to find an excuse to slip away for a ten-minute nap. Despite her exhaustion, Eliza felt good about the fact that she had taken the
first step toward reclaiming her sense of well-being. She had learned only a few basic holds last night. But more important, she also had learned how to get out of those holds. Having to put on a show for ego-filled windbags like Butler here previously would have left Eliza feeling helpless, forced to do what the stars on his shoulder demanded. But now? She studied him from behind, pinpointing his potential weaknesses.
He might have authority over me to a certain extent. But he does not control me. A few minutes more until all formalities would be over and Butler would be gone. Eliza smiled and began to count down the seconds until he left.
That’s when the boom of General Butler’s voice invaded her revelry.
“I said I wanted to inspect your entire unit during my visit, Major Adams.”
Eliza redirected her gaze back in front of her. The man’s bulldog features had gone into attack mode. His jowls appeared to sway with irritation. His underbite had become more pronounced.
Eliza watched as Charity’s back straightened. Instinctively, Eliza and the other Six Triple Eight officers surrounding her did the same.
“Sir, ordering the entire battalion out here would bring our operation to a halt.” Charity’s voice was deferential but firm. “The women that were presented to you are the only ones available who are not working toward our assigned mission or who have just finished their work shift and are now asleep.”
“I demand to see them all before me. Now. That is an order, young lady.”
“Respectfully, General, what you are asking of me is impossible.” Eliza watched Charity flex her hand, which was out of Butler’s line of vision, into a fist.
Butler lifted his chin. He puffed out his chest again. “Then maybe I should bring in another officer—a white officer—to relieve you of your command. One who will teach you how to follow orders properly, soldier.”
An officer near Eliza—she dared not turn her head to see who—gasped. Eliza herself could’ve spit nails. The nerve of this man. There was no denying it. Charity was in the right—it didn’t make any sense to halt operations for a parade. But sometimes being right could cost you everything.
She didn’t care how many stars the Army had slapped onto his shoulder. Eliza would have gladly slapped off each one of them.
Charity lifted her own chin, then took a deep breath. Eliza held her own. The muscle in Charity’s jaw twitched once and then twice. Anyone who knew the woman could tell that she was fighting mad.
Amazingly, she kept it together. With her shoulders back and her chin high, Major Charity Adams then uttered the five words that would sear themselves into Eliza’s memory forever: “Over my dead body, sir.”
This time, no one made a sound. Shock did not begin to adequately describe what Eliza felt in that moment, what everyone else up on the parade dais must have felt. Charity had stood up to and dared to defy one of the top-ranking American generals in Europe. Only President Roosevelt and General Eisenhower held a higher authority than him.
Eliza bit the inside of her cheek as she watched General Butler shove his scowling face right into Charity’s. “That can be arranged, Major.”
Charity didn’t cower. Hell, she didn’t even blink. Eliza was impressed with how she remained still as a block of granite. Butler continued to stare her down.
In the end it was he who took the first step back, Charity failing to give him the groveling act he so obviously craved.
“I’ll see to it that you are court-martialed. If I’m feeling generous, maybe I won’t have you shot for insubordination,” he grumbled before storming away.
They all saluted his back. After Butler and his entourage had finally driven away, Charity gave the “at ease” command.
Eliza went over to comfort her friend. “What an ass—” She froze as soon as her hand palmed Charity’s shoulder. The woman’s entire body trembled with rage.
“Don’t,” Charity growled through clenched teeth.
Eliza had not realized how much tension she had pent up in her own body until she took a step back. The tense moment on top of the sore muscles from the self-defense class had her ready to collapse.
Eliza checked her watch. Only a few minutes until the mess opened again for lunch. She made the decision then that she would rather skip the meal to get in a much-needed nap. She was just about to make her exit when Charity called everyone back to attention.
“All battalion officers are to report to my office within the hour. Even the ones who are asleep.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they all responded in unison.
Eliza groaned on the inside. She already knew she was going to have a long night ahead of her. She and Noel, who was beside her, shared a worried look.
SIX HOURS LATER, Eliza found herself in Charity’s office, still awake, with every muscle in her body throbbing. She was surrounded by her fellow officers and every policy manual and memo that had been issued to them by the Women’s Army Corps and the European Theater of Operations high command. She had been listening to everyone’s ideas with her eyes closed, if only to give them a break.
“I still say this article of war here is the way to go,” Grace shouted over the hum of voices. She held up a book, jabbing her finger at a specific passage. “It says it right here. You can’t completely stop an operation for immoral reasons.”
“But ordering a troop review isn’t ‘immoral,’ though,” Eliza jumped in, her words slurring from exhaustion.
“It is when the motivation behind it is to satisfy one man’s ego,” Grace argued.
“True. But how are you going to prove it?” Eliza leaned her head back against the wall behind her. She held her wrist up to her mouth to muffle a yawn. Then she closed her eyes.
“Sorry we’re not entertaining you enough, soldier,” Grace snapped.
“Don’t start. Please.”
“Ladies, let’s focus.” Charity had chosen well in selecting Noel Campbell as her second-in-command. She too had been in their officer training class back in ’42. Noel had always been their voice of reason who could yank them back on track during times like these.
“You’re both making good points. Whatever our strategy is, we’ve got to keep it by the books. That’s where policy comes in.” Noel nodded toward Grace. “And we’ve got to have crystal clear proof that Butler violated policy.” Noel gestured at Eliza, who dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Those of us who were there can tell you. That man was not only a bigot but a bully as well. It oozes from his pores. But saying so isn’t going to help Charity get off the hook for backtalking to a general.”
This time, everyone in the room nodded. They all had been in the corps long enough to know what was at stake here. They couldn’t afford anyone making the battalion look bad, which in turn would make every one of their sisters in the corps look bad. Any perceived “bad” behavior from the Six Triple Eight ultimately would reflect back onto every Negro woman back home—whether she was in uniform or not.
The thought reverberated in Eliza’s head: any perceived “bad” behavior . . . Eliza got an unexpected jolt of energy. “That’s it! You nailed it on the head.”
Eliza was on her feet so fast that Noel had to jump back. “I did?”
“Yes. Wasn’t there a memo not too long ago that said something about not mentioning race?”
“Girl, please.” Noel rubbed the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “You have no idea how many memos cross my desk on a daily basis. Can you be more specific?”
“I think I remember that one,” Grace chimed in. “It instructed everyone in the field not to make any decisions or opinions based on race. We got it about a week ago.”
“Of course you would remember something like that. You damn near have a photographic memory,” quipped an officer in the back.
Grace tossed a balled-up piece of paper her way. “No, I don’t. I’m just super organized.”
“Super organized or not, I think you two just saved my behind.” Charity stepped forward into the middle of their makeshift circle.
“I remember seeing that memo too. If it didn’t come from Eisenhower himself, then it came from someone directly under him.”
Eliza grinned. “Someone like that would definitely outrank ol’ bulldog Butler.”
Charity returned her smile. “Exactly.”
“It sounds good.” Grace spoke slowly, like she was mulling it all over in her head. “But I’m not following how that would help us here.”
“Eliza, maybe you should explain for the officers who weren’t there.” A smiling Noel, once again, steered them back on track.
“Butler messed up when he threatened to replace Charity specifically with a white officer. He darn near yelled the word ‘white’ in her face.” Eliza looked at Charity. “I remember that part clearly because I watched her ball up her fist when he said it.”
“Girl . . .” Charity blew out a heavy breath. “I wanted to smack him so bad. He had just had breakfast too.”
Charity shook her head while waving her hand in front of her nose. They all laughed at that. Eliza noted that it was like a collective sigh of relief. The tension in the room had finally lifted.
When the laughter died down, Eliza asked, “So, do we have a case?”
Charity nodded. “Yes, I think we just might have a shot.”
“Good. Now can we go get some sleep?” She added a yawn for dramatic effect.
“No, we can’t just drop it,” Grace retorted. “Charity is in some deep shit. You’d want her to pull out all the stops if it was your ass in hot water.”
The room quieted. Even Eliza went still. She couldn’t recall a previous time when she had heard Grace use such language. A twinge of shame washed over Eliza. But she was sooo tired. Not just physically from last night’s class, but also mentally from clashing with the bigotry of Army brass at almost every turn it seemed.
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