by Ella Carey
Eva grabbed her little alarm clock and turned it off at four fifteen, before her mother could hear it and appear in her slippers and robe. Eva rushed through dressing herself, her fingers fumbling with the practical fitted dress that she’d left out the night before. She fixed herself a quick breakfast of toast and a little butter in the silent, immaculate kitchen and let herself out into the warm early-morning air.
Her pace quickening, she hurried down the dark street, the streetlamps casting pale pools of light on the road. Eva’s heart accelerated too, at the sight of Harry standing outside his house already, and she grinned when Nina came trotting toward them from the opposite direction.
“Good morning.” Harry stepped out and pulled Eva into a hug. “How are you?” His words were muffled into her hastily brushed curls.
“I didn’t see Mom last night when I went back inside. I only hope she’ll come around.”
“We’ll make sure of it.” He let go of her, turning to Nina.
“Good morning.” Nina reached forward and gave Eva a quick hug. “How did it go with your mom last night?”
“Less said, the better.”
Nina linked her arm through Eva’s, and they kept pace alongside Harry walking down the street. “I’m sure once she sees you flying solo, she’ll be proud of you, girl.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“I’ve been thinking.” Harry strode on Nina’s other side.
“Oh yes?” Nina let go of Eva’s arm, running a little ahead and turning around to face them.
“If we do this every morning for three weeks to a month, you’ll get your licenses quickly enough. In the meantime, I think you should both go ahead and apply for WASP. You can send in your certificates once you have them.”
“Sounds like a gas,” Nina said. She swung her carryall around over her head.
“Nina, I’ve found a teacher for you. Paul is an excellent instructor. He’s been teaching people to fly for years. I telephoned him last night, and he’s briefed and ready to teach you.”
Nina tilted her head to one side and skipped around ahead of them. “I’m jealous that Evie gets you as a teacher.”
Harry’s chuckle was rich velvet in the dark. “Evie and I are a good team in the sky.”
Nina’s eyebrows shot upward, and a mischievous grin lit up her features.
Eva shook her head, and Nina came back to walk alongside them again.
They rounded the corner to the local airfield, and Harry moved straight toward the glass entrance door. Out on the runway were a couple of jaunty primary trainers. Eva felt the stir of excitement in her veins.
A man who looked to be in his late forties with a sharp, clean haircut came and held the door open for them.
“Nina, this is Paul. He will instruct you,” Harry said.
“Nice to meet you, Nina.” Paul shook Nina’s hand. “Let’s start outside today. I want to look over the airplane and see what you know.”
“Evie, come on in with me. I want to run through takeoff procedure. Then, if you feel ready, we’ll get you to take off.” Harry moved to the little coffee station. “Coffee for fortitude? Going up in an open cockpit as the sun comes up is exhilarating, but you’re going to be tired all day at work.”
“Coffee would be marvelous, thank you, Harry.”
Harry handed her a steaming cup of coffee and led her to one of the round tables that were dotted around the small airport lounge.
“Now,” Harry said, “the primary trainer is a tail dragger. The wheels are under the wings, with another wheel under the back. The tail stays on the ground while you take off.”
Harry drew diagrams on a notepad, and Eva looked over his shoulder at the neat details he set out on the page.
An hour later, her head full of information, she did a final check over all Harry’s notes.
“Let’s go,” Harry said. “That’s enough ground instruction for today. No need for instrument flying now. The sun is coming up.” Pink streaks started to spread fingers of light over the distant dry hills.
Eva took the flying goggles and helmet that Harry handed to her and followed him out to the runway. She tingled with anticipation and climbed up on the primary trainer, standing on the small wooden wing and sliding into the front cockpit. The ground crew moved around the little prop plane, and Eva leaned out the open cockpit. She called for the very first time. “Chocks away!”
Eva waited while they removed the triangular pieces of wood that were wedged under the wheels.
Next, following Harry’s exact instructions from the copilot’s seat behind, Eva checked that the hand brake was on and called everyone to get clear of the propeller. She pushed the mixture lever all the way down with her hand to make sure the engine mixture was fully rich.
“Later, you’ll adjust this again in flight,” Harry said to her through the radio. “It’ll start running rough if it’s too rich.”
“Roger.” She took an air-pressure reading to check the height above sea level on the ground and turned the engine on, the prop buzzing in her ears.
The control tower gave her permission to taxi, and she took the plane out to the holding point right before the runway, tested the ailerons, checked that the engine was running smoothly, and increased the throttle, just as Harry had instructed her to do back in the airport.
“Perfect, Eva.”
She switched the radio to tower frequency.
“Foxtrot Thirty-Eight requesting clearance for takeoff.”
“Clear for takeoff, Foxtrot Thirty-Eight.”
Switching the radio back to Harry, she made a right turn to the runway, checking her wake turbulence and watching her speed on the instrument panel. She took in a breath and pulled back on the throttle, her heart hammering as the plane scooted down the runway.
The little training plane lifted in a perfect arc. Eva fought the compulsion to cheer.
“Well done,” Harry said.
“Thank you.” She felt the first tingles of success.
“Now, maintain your runway heading for another five hundred feet, then turn gently.”
Eva kept her eye on the turn and balance indicator until it was time to make the fifteen-degree turn.
The sun streamed over the horizon beyond the hills, and the whole of Los Angeles was spread below her, the morning sun warm on her cheeks.
“You’re a natural.” Harry’s voice came through the radio. “But, sweetheart, that was something I already knew.”
Late that afternoon, Eva lay on the back lawn with Nina, drowsy from her early start and long day fixing rivets, although even riveting seemed to take on a new allure after her lesson with Harry, and to think there would be a string of mornings learning to fly. Well, that made up for the monotony of factory work.
“What if we were to get letters from Jacqueline Cochran herself?” Nina said. “Are we honestly going to make the grade?”
Eva leaned on her elbow and pulled her sunglasses up to rest on her curls. “Us, up in front of one of Mrs. Cochran’s women? Being interviewed? I’m worried I’ll forget my own name!”
“I still can’t believe we’re doing this for real, Evie. Even if I feel like it’s something we were born to do. It feels right, and yet, at the same time, it’s happening so quick. Paul says he’ll accelerate my license. He’s spoken with Harry. We’re lucky to have them both helping us out.”
“We’re always lucky to have Harry. And Paul sounds just grand.”
Nina was quiet for a moment. Eva felt her friend’s eyes on her. “You okay with Harry joining up?”
“He won’t stay here for anyone.”
“I know how much you care about him.”
Eva stared up at the sky. Above her, a bank of wispy clouds rolled across the Californian blue. “Well, I think he has the same problem we do. He just wants to go.”
“But when it comes to Harry, I know how hard it’s going to be for you to see him leaving.” Nina shot a glance toward the kitchen window, but it was closed, and Eva’s mom
was nowhere in sight.
“All I can think is that he’s a wonderful pilot. I can’t bear to think of anything more than that.”
She felt Nina’s fingers lace with hers.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE COMMITTEE: But ultimately, Jacqueline Cochran trained you as civilians ferrying planes, not as military pilots. How can you argue that she seriously intended you to be anything else?
EVA FORREST: I am certain that Jacqueline Cochran’s intention was that if women were fully trained in the military fashion, then they could contribute to the war effort. She wanted to prove that we were capable of making an important contribution. And she wanted to give us a place in aviation. What’s more, Jacqueline Cochran was not the only woman keen to employ women pilots to contribute to the war. Nancy Harkness Love, who worked for Air Transport Command, employed twenty-five elite women pilots to ferry planes from factories to bases in the US in March 1942 while Jacqueline Cochran was in England with her group of twenty-five of our most qualified US female pilots being trained with British female pilots in the military. Jacqueline’s women pilots were the first American women to fly military aircraft overseas. They delivered planes from factories to bases for Britain’s Royal Air Force. Jacqueline came back home intending to apply what she’d learned about women flying for the military in England to our air force.
Eva tore around the block to Nina’s house, a precious letter clutched in her hand. She rushed up Nina’s driveway, fumbling with the side gate and heading straight to the open back door. Eva knocked out of politeness, but Nina’s mom, Jean Rogers, was right at the kitchen window. She waved Eva inside.
“You come in here, girl.” Nina’s mom untied the pinafore she wore around her ample frame. In a flash, Mrs. Rogers eyed the envelope that Eva was clutching. “You got the same letter as Nina there in that hand of yours?”
Eva heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m sure glad to hear Nina’s got one too.”
“Haven’t been able to make head or tail of my girl since she got home from the factory tonight and opened the envelope. She’s so panicked that you might not have gotten one that she can’t sit still.”
“Well, turns out that’s one problem we don’t have to face. The WASP interview’s next week, and Harry says we’ll both have our pilot’s licenses by then. But I expect there’ll be girls with ten times our qualifications applying. I can’t see why they’d choose the likes of us.”
“Don’t ever denigrate yourself, Eva,” Jean said. “I’ve raised Nina to have no pretensions, but I don’t believe for one moment in putting yourselves down. You girls have as much passion and skill for flying as anyone else. They’ll be wanting to train you anyway, it’s just a case of checking you have the gumption and the courage to fly for them, that’s what it’ll be about.”
Eva wished she had as much confidence. “Not sure if they interview every applicant.”
Jean placed her hand on Eva’s shoulder. “Honey. Stop worrying about it. Just go and answer their questions, and you know what? You show them what you and Nina got.”
“Evie?” Nina scuttled into the kitchen. “Tell me you’re going to an interview like me.”
“You bet I am.” Eva raised her letter in the air. “I’d be happy to go to any interview on the basis that I’d never have to nail another rivet alone.” Eva scanned the letter yet again. She still couldn’t believe it.
Nina encircled Eva in a hug. “Oh, thank goodness.” She read Eva’s letter too. “We’re on the same day.”
“Harry says I’ll have my license by the weekend,” Eva said.
“Harry’s a good boy,” Mrs. Rogers said. “I’ve always said it.” She eyed Eva.
“Yes, we’re more than aware of that, Ma.”
Eva felt her cheeks turning pink. How many people had recognized her crush?
Nina spread the interview notice out on the table. “It’s from Captain Henry H. Arnold. The chief of the whole air force.”
Jean placed a plate of cookies in front of them. “Look at you girls. Letters from the chief of the air force. You go for it. Mark my words, you won’t regret it.”
Eva took one of Jean’s famous cookies. Nina had told her that Jean was working her ration papers so that the important things could still be baked.
“It’s an opportunity that women of my generation would never have had. That’s why I say it’s doubly important.” Nina’s mom folded her arms and stood proud and strong by them both.
One week later, Eva held her brand-new pilot’s license in her hands outside the house where the interview was being conducted. Her best pale-pink summer frock clung to her curves, its dark-red velvet belt sitting just so around her waist. Her feet were encased in unfamiliar patent-leather high heels. She’d done her curls up in a ponytail, and now, the heat of the afternoon swirled around her and Nina as they stood waiting to be let into the house where Jacqueline Cochran’s friend would interview them.
Eva was utterly in awe of Jacqueline Cochran. The more she’d learned about her, the more she’d panicked. After growing up in poverty in Florida, she was recognized as America’s foremost living female aviator, and she held records for her competition wins.
And now, Eva was here in her pink dress alongside Nina, all dressed up in blue, to be interviewed for Jacqueline Cochran’s WASP.
Were they crazy?
Eva fought the urge to turn right around and go back home.
But Nina was walking along the path through the flowery front garden of the grand Los Feliz house, stepping with all the snip-snap and confidence that her sassy mom had put into her head.
Eva pushed away thoughts of her own mom’s tear-stained face when she’d seen Eva filling out her application. Telling her mom that Harry was training her had helped a little, but the fact was, nothing was going to convince her mom that leaving home to fly airplanes was ever going to be a safe idea. She took in a shaking breath and followed Nina right to the front door.
Nina was called first into the interview. Eva was told by a delightful elderly man to wait in a lovely sitting room. Eva would lap up a room like this to sit in every night. Serene-blue easy chairs and sofas were set on a deep-blue carpet, and on the coffee table, books on planes were set out. The woman doing the Los Angeles interviews must be some elite flying compatriot of Jacqueline’s.
Eva hovered in the room, only to be distracted by a set of French doors that looked out on the lush garden outside. On a stretch of wall beside the charming doors was the grandest set of airplane photographs Eva had ever seen in her life. She was staring at a gorgeous photo of three little Bell P-39s flying in a row, one above the other in formation, their noses up. Next to it was a photo of altogether different beasts: two grand Boeing B-29 Superfortresses, their noses menacingly short, flying above a cloudy sky.
“Enjoying those?” a voice boomed behind Eva.
She jumped, her face flushing.
“Terrific plane.” The elderly gentleman who’d let them into the house smiled at her with his pair of bright eyes above his gray mustache.
“I’m sorry, I was taking a look. I was excited to see you have a photo here of such a new aircraft.”
“You know something about the manufacturing of planes?”
“Well, I know this baby is ten times harder to build than any other bomber we’ve made in the United States so far. I know that it’s only up for delivery this month and had its first flight in September last year.”
“Do you now? I’m impressed.”
Eva felt a little emboldened by the gentleman’s appreciation of her interest in planes. “May I ask where you got this photograph, sir?”
“Can I ask you a question first?”
Eva’s heart skipped a beat of delight at the chance to chat with someone who seemed genuinely interested in talking with her in turn.
“What do you know about these planes?” he said.
“Well, sir. I know that the B-29’s a technical nightmare to build. Its engine power, weight, and wing loading and
even the structure are something else, but it’s more advanced and more capable than any bomber ever. It will be interesting to see how far this plane can go.”
The old man’s expression was sharp, and his eyes lit up. “I agree, my dear. That’s why when a friend who was involved in the design of it told me all about it, I asked for a photograph to display on my little wall up here.”
Eva’s eyes widened. Here she was, already among folk who were right in the thick of things when it came to planes. “You know someone who was on the design team for the B-29?”
“Why, certainly, I do.” He leaned a little closer to the photograph. “But I’ll tell you this. My wife could have designed planes if she were given the opportunity. She’s a fabulous pilot and a wonderful woman, and she knows what she’s talking about when it comes to aircraft. I sense you know a thing or two as well, dear. And you have turned to flying?”
“I am keen as anything to fly for Jacqueline Cochran. At the moment, I work at Lockheed, but just tightening bolts.”
“Well, tight bolts are important!” He turned back to the photos on his wall. “I’m also fond of the little Helldiver.”
“It can go two hundred eighty-one miles per hour,” Eva said, almost absently.
The man jolted upright next to her. “And it can fly at twenty-four thousand feet! We’re seeing it in action in most of the Pacific battles.”