Flygirl

by Sherri L. Smith

  Normally, there’d be a crew of eleven that goes up in these birds—pilot, co-pilot, three gunners, and a crew to handle targeting and dropping the bombs. Since tomorrow is just a lap around the airfield, Colonel Griffith wants us to take three of his men up with us.

  “So you get the real feel of her,” he says. We both know it’s so the men can take over if the girls choke.

  “This is fine,” Lily says from her piloting chair. We’ve both strapped in and are getting comfortable with the reach of the controls.

  “Oh, yes, it is,” I agree. This is a big plane, and she’s going to be heavy as a sack of wet sand to pull off the runway, but it’s a treat just sitting here. No sirree, these two girls won’t fail.

  So far, our stay at Birmingham has been pretty quiet. There’s all sorts of activity on the base when we drive on in the morning and when we leave at night. But nothing that involves us. That’s why it’s a surprise on the morning of the third day when there’s a crowd out to greet us on the tarmac. It looks like just about every doughboy this side of the Mississippi has shown up. Colonel Griffith rides out to the hangar with us in a jeep. He’s in full dress uniform, so you’d think he had planned the whole thing, but he sure looks upset at the sight of all those soldier boys.

  “Aw, hell. Who called them here?”

  “Sir?” Lily and I are in our zoot suits and pigtails—one of the privileges of being full-fledged WASP, no more turbans for us. I’ve got butterflies the size of eagles this morning, and facing the masses when I’m in my flying jammies doesn’t help.

  Griffith drops down in his seat. “Keep going.” The driver takes us past the crowd of soldiers and into the hangar with the B-29. He drives fast, but not fast enough for Lily and I to miss one of the men shouting, “Another Widowmaker.”

  “Excuse me, sir, but what’s going on?” Lily asks.

  “Begging your pardon,” I add. “But what did he mean by ‘Widowmaker’?” Every WASP knew about the first “Widowmaker”—the B-26 Marauder, a plane that tended to crash on takeoff. I look the colonel in the eye and wait for an answer.

  Colonel Griffith actually blushes. He takes off his hat and steps out of the jeep. A full thirty seconds pass before he turns to us.

  “Ladies, you have twenty minutes to get in that plane and get it down that runway. We’ve got a crowd out there, and we might as well use it.”

  Lily and I exchange glances. I don’t like not knowing what’s going on, but this is the army. We don’t have to like it. We just have to do what we’re told.

  Lily frowns at me, then shrugs. We both take a deep breath and start our flight check. While we’re going over the wings, the rest of our flight crew shows up. Colonel Griffith, who has been pacing by the jeep like a daddy-to-be in a hospital waiting room, introduces them to us.

  “Ladies, this here is Captain Hank Rhodes, Lieutenant Davis Warner, and Lieutenant Daniel Sparks.”

  We shake hands down the line. Captain Hank is a square-jawed, dark-haired man, about Thomas’s age. Davis Warner and Daniel Sparks could be twins, except Warner has brown hair and Sparks is a redhead. They both have freckles, blue eyes, and wide grins. They can’t be much more than eighteen or nineteen. But then again, I’m only twenty-one.

  “We’re the bombardiers,” Sparks says once the colonel has returned to his pacing. “We’ll be flying navigation and radio today in case . . . well. You can call me Sparky.”

  I know what the “in case” is. The bombardier’s seat is in the nose of the plane. If we can’t fly this thing, it’s the worst spot to be in for an emergency landing. I guess I can’t hold that against him.

  “Thanks, Sparky. You can call me Jonesy,” I say.

  “I’m afraid I’m just Lily, but that’ll do, too.” Lily shakes Sparky’s hand.

  “Sparks, let the ladies finish their flight check. Everything’s got to go perfect if we’re gonna pull this off,” Hank says. His voice is surprisingly high for someone with such a square jaw. He looks like Clark Gable without the mustache, but he sounds like Mickey Rooney.

  “Thank you, Captain,” I say, and Lily and I double-check the wing before moving on to the fuel line.

  “Ready, Eddy,” Lily finally says, checking off the last of our list.

  I nod and open the door to the plane. Lily wheels up a stepladder. “Gentlemen first,” we say. Sparks seems to like that. He chuckles, shakes his head, and climbs aboard.

  The men settle into their stations in the compartment behind the pilot and co-pilot seats and we head out of the hangar and onto the runway with little fanfare. I’m surprised the colonel didn’t have us leave under cover of darkness, he seems so displeased by the crowd outside. Then again, maybe this is what he really wants.

  “I just had an idea, Lily.”

  “What’s that? Fly us all to Acapulco for supper?”

  “No. I mean, it seems to me the colonel is using us as an example. You and I both know that the army can keep a secret when it wants to.”

  “That’s for sure,” Lily agrees.

  “Well, then, why do you suppose there just happen to be sixty soldiers with nothing better to do than watch us this morning?”

  Lily frowns, then smiles. “Because they want to see what a girl can do.”

  I nod. “With the ‘Widowmaker.’”

  Lily grins. “Oh, boy. This should be a hoot.”

  “What are you ladies talking about up there?” Captain Hank has stuck his head into the cockpit. Lily and I put on our best innocent faces.

  “Just the weather, sir. Now, go buckle in; we’re about to take off.”

  We taxi into position and run an engine check, firing each engine separately from left to right. At full throttle, a B-29 engine will rattle your teeth. Lily and I grin at each other. This plane beats a Jenny any day. The engines work just fine, so I power all four of them up to a deafening roar. The plane jostles and shakes like a wild horse trying to throw a rider.

  The green flag waves and I release the brakes to start off our long takeoff roll. B-29s take twice as much runway as smaller planes to get off the ground. We roll forward, gaining speed as the runway rushes beneath us.

  “Ready, Lily?”

  “Ready, steady,” she says with a nod. I flex my arms, preparing for liftoff.

  The end of the runway looms before us. I grab the stick and pull. My muscles go tight, but the nose of this thing is barely budging. I grit my teeth. It’s harder to lift than even I thought it would be.

  “Ida?” Lily sounds worried. She’s got her hands full with levers for the landing gear, but she sees me struggling.

  “Got it, got it,” I say. But I don’t. Not yet, anyway.

  And then, I do. The nose of the plane lifts so quickly, you’d think it was apologizing for reacting so late. We bob up into the air, a little wobbly, but in the air all the same. From there, we climb steadily and the engines smooth out from a bone-shaking roar to a sweet, steady hum. Turns out the B-29 is like a seagull, awkward and ungainly on land, but boy, it sure can fly.

  Lily gives a little cheer. I hear it echoed from the navigation station by Sparky. When we reach our cruising altitude, I loosen up my arms. My biceps are sore, but in a good way. I guess all those years of picking up Otis Wilson’s laundry finally paid off.

  “Would you look at that?” Lily points out the window. The entire airfield is looking up at us.

  “I bet their mouths are hanging wide open.”

  “I certainly hope so.” We veer off on a wide loop of the air base. That’s all Colonel Griffith wanted. A victory lap, so to speak. We circle the airfield two times for good measure. If only my daddy could see me. They used to say that colored folk couldn’t fly, but look at us now.

  Lily is in her own private world of smiles, too. It’s a good feeling. All the hard work and training it took to get into the WASP is paying off in a lump sum.

  “Smooth flying, ladies,” Sparky says from the back. Without even turning around, I can hear he’s all grins. I am, too.


  “Thank you, Lieutenant Sparks,” Lily says for me. I’m too busy lining up for the final approach. I take a deep breath.

  “And now, for the tricky part.”

  “Landing gear, ready,” Lily says. We’ve studied it every which way, and in the end it’s the same. The B-29 has trouble landing. She tends to stall out and just drop. Some planes are too big to glide to a stop comfortably. That’s why the army doesn’t have more of them around. That’s probably why they’re calling it the “Widowmaker” on the ground. And that’s exactly why we’re here to fly it.

  “Here we go,” I say.

  Suddenly, the plane lurches like an old drunk. The steady drone of the engines stops. When it starts again, it’s too quiet.

  “We’ve lost an engine,” I say, trying not to panic. The plane wobbles. I grip the stick with both hands to correct it.

  Lily says nothing, but the knuckles gripping the sides of her seat are white.

  From the compartment behind us, somebody shouts. Someone else swears.

  “Status, boys?” I call out. My voice is getting too high. I belatedly pull up from the final approach. We can’t land. Not just yet.

  “Davis is hurt. Got his hand smashed climbing through to the gunnery. What happened?”

  I shake my head. “What the B-29’s probably famous for. One of the engines stalled. We’re running on three now.”

  “Number four’s on fire,” Lily adds. My eyes go wide, and I spare a quick look. Oily black smoke streams away from the right wing. I can’t see any flames, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

  “That’s just peachy,” I mutter, and try to figure out what to do.

  There’s a shuffle, and Captain Hank appears between Lily and me.

  “I think it’s time I take over,” he says. His eyes are on the airfield. The B-29 shudders around us. Limping in. It’s only a matter of time before we lose another engine. Or the fire spreads.

  “No.” I stay in my seat. “No, sir. We’ve trained on stalled planes before. I know how to handle it.”

  For the first time, the look Captain Hank gives me isn’t friendly. “Well, you may have noticed that the B-29 isn’t just any old plane. I’m surprised your arms didn’t give out just getting us into the air. I’ll be hanged if I’m going to get caught in a crack-up just because some dame wants to prove a point.”

  “It’s not our point, sir, it’s Colonel Griffith’s.” Lily’s finally found her voice. I’m glad because whether I like it or not, this plane is heavy and keeping her steady is like wrestling an angry gator. Any energy spent trying to convince the captain makes flying even harder.

  Lily’s right. It’s enough to make Captain Hank hesitate. Before he can think of anything else to say, Lily picks up the radio and asks the tower for Colonel Griffith. I make a full circuit of the airstrip while they connect us to the radio in his jeep. With any luck, the engine fire will burn itself out. Or we’ll land first.

  “Captain Hank,” I say, trying not to grit my teeth. “Please strap yourself in. We don’t want any more injuries, do we?”

  Captain Hank looks at me, then at Lily. He shakes his head, crosses himself, and returns to his seat.

  “What should I tell the colonel?” Lily asks.

  I shrug as much as my grip on the stick will allow. “Tell him the truth.”

  Lily looks at me, and her brown eyes are wide with worry. “What is the truth, Ida? I’ve seen you land a pursuit plane in a stall before, but this? We’re burning.”

  For an instant, we both see it, Patsy’s Valiant blooming into flames, like some terrible flower.

  I take my eyes off the view in front of me just long enough to read the look in Lily’s eyes.

  “Don’t be stubborn, Jonesy,” she says. “Be safe.”

  “Right.” I don’t say anything for what feels like forever. It’s funny how danger can make time stand dead still. I think about the plane I’m holding up by sheer force of will and the four souls on board with me. For some reason, I think about Thomas, running up that country road, trying to get to a doctor before Death could get to Daddy. I think of Mama trying to keep me at home. Of Jolene trying not to tap her toes to the radio when Mrs. Wilson was in the house. Of Patsy never letting old Unhappy Martin tell her how to fly.

  I take a deep breath and look at Lily. She’s my last friend on earth right now. I’d never do a thing to hurt her.

  “I can do this,” I tell her. And as I say it, I know that it’s true. “We can do this.”

  Lily looks at me a moment longer. The radio crackles.

  “Griffith here.”

  Lily hesitates. She takes a deep breath.

  “Colonel Griffith, this is Lily Lowenstein. We have a slight problem up here. Engine three’s stalled out and number four’s on fire. It’s procedure to have emergency services waiting on the ground. If you want them. This is your show, Colonel. We’ll do our job. We’re coming in on the next circuit. Lowenstein out.”

  The radio lies silent.

  “It’d be nice to have those fire trucks out there,” I admit. “Just for comfort’s sake.”

  Lily blanches. “You said you could do this, Ida.”

  I nod. “I can, I can. Still . . .”

  I shake my head. “Aw, hell. Say a prayer, rabbi. We’re coming in.”

  I don’t know if Griffith has gotten the fire trucks out on the tarmac. I don’t know if he’s trusting we can land. My eyes are on the horizon as it lines up with the white lines down the runway. The plane is shuddering now as we drop lower. The men are silent in the bombing bay, probably straining their ears to catch what happens next.

  What happens next is like nothing I’ve ever done in training. We drop from the sky and another engine fails.

  “That was number one. But you’re clear. No smoke,” Lily says. One engine fire we can handle. I throw in the towel at two.

  “Lily, I need your help,” I say through clenched teeth. It’s just too much. The plane is nose heavy and unwieldy. Lily undoes her straps, wraps one around her shoulder, and leans over the chair to help me. We groan with the straining of the wings. We pull for all we are worth. Silently, I swear, I scream, I pray.

  And then we are level, and then we are landing. Too fast, too damned heavy and fast. All the weight in the nose of the plane smacks the ground with force. The tail of the plane almost spins, we’re so top heavy and off balance.

  “Hold it, hold it!” I grab Lily by the arm. She slips but keeps her hands on the stick. I stand on the brakes with both legs. Not too fast, not too fast, or we could roll.

  The muscles in my legs burn. My fingers ache from holding the stick.

  And then, we stop. We are on the ground, safe and sound.

  “Look,” I say to Lily. At the end of the tarmac, a single fire truck, lights off, trundles toward us, out of sight of our audience by the hangars.

  Lily starts to laugh. I join her. We laugh until there are tears streaming from our eyes, down our cheeks. Captain Hank and his boys are on us in a second.

  “They’re hysterical, sir,” Sparky says. That makes us laugh even harder. Captain Hank, who’s had more experience with the hazards of flying and with the hazards of women, merely shakes his head and follows us out of the plane.

  “Dames are crazy, Sparky. Don’t you ever forget it.”

  “No, sir,” Sparky says seriously. “I won’t.”

  Chapter 23

  Lily and I don’t step off that plane until our knees stop shaking. Then we undo our pigtails. She fluffs out her hair and I smooth down my frizzy braids. We put on our reddest Cochran Cosmetics lipstick and walk down the steps just as cool as cucumbers. Captain Hank and Sparky follow, with poor Davis and his banged-up hand in between them. I notice he keeps his hand out of sight of the crowd.

  Colonel Griffith is waiting for us. He shakes our hands with a grin almost as big as the B-29’s wingspan and helps us into his jeep. Without a word to any of the men standing around, we head back to the colonel’s office.
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br />   “They’ll be talking about this for weeks,” Griffith says. He’s pleased as punch, I can tell. “The day two girls tamed the B-29. Corporal, get Dulles on the horn for me.”

  The jeep driver grabs the radio, squawks into it, then passes it to the colonel.

  “Dulles, Griffith here. They did it. Damned if they didn’t, with a bum engine, too. No. I’ll give Cochran a call when we get to my office. But spread the word. We’ll have no trouble finding pilots now.”

  Lily and I exchange glances. I shake my head. How can I be so proud at succeeding and feel so insulted at the same time?

  “WASP aren’t going to be delivering these bombers, are they, sir?”

  Griffith looks at me. “Of course not, Miss Jones. This was strictly to prove a point. You girls are a lot braver than most of the men we’ve got out there. They hear ‘Widowmaker’ and run the other way. But I got word the WASP had something to prove. And you did it, by gum, you didn’t back down, even when the engines crapped out. Why, I’d buy you a drink if I didn’t think you look too young. But the B-29 is back in business. Now maybe we can get this war over with.”

  Lily and I take the next jeep available back to our boardinghouse.

  “How do you like that,” Lily fumes. “Good enough to risk our necks for his stupid demonstration but not good enough to fly full-time.”

  I drop down to my bed and strip off my boots. “It’s nothing new, Lily. They’ve been using the WASP to do dirty work since the program started. Testing planes that aren’t fit to fly. ‘If a girl can do it, so can a man.’ That should be the army’s new motto.”

  Lily paces the floor, hands on her hips.

  “I wish there was something we could do. I don’t know, write a letter to the president. Better yet, his wife. Anything. We can do so much more than they’ll ever let us do.”

  I don’t say anything for a long time. Lily’s just finding out what I’ve been living with my whole life. She’s never known what it was like to be hobbled by somebody else’s rules. Suddenly, I’ve got a sorrow so deep inside of me, it hurts to breathe.