Flygirl

by Sherri L. Smith

  “Sacrifice,” I say finally.

  “What?” Lily stops in her tracks.

  “I said, sacrifice. My grandfather told me that war is about sacrifice. We don’t get any medals for the things we do. We don’t get a parade when we go home. That’s for the boys. And I’m sure they’ll deserve it. My brother deserves it and then some. But what my granddad didn’t know is that women sacrifice all the time.” I look up at Lily.

  “You know what I mean. My mama’s back home right now saving up bacon fat and counting ration stamps so her family can live another day. My girlfriend Jolene works her fingers to the bone cleaning houses so one day she can wear a proper dress at her wedding.

  “My mama gave up her son to fight the war. And let her only daughter go, too. And your mother, too, Lily. That’s a sacrifice that gets no reward. So why should we be any different? We’re WASP, not military, not soldiers. They won’t let us be. But you heard Griffith the same as I did. He thinks the B-29’s gonna end this war. And that’s all the reward either one of us will ever get. It’s all the reward we need.”

  Lily sinks down on the bed beside me. Our khaki zoot suits look coarse against the fine crocheted bedspread. Our hands are rough, grease under the nails; our hair is still pinched and mussed from our flight helmets. We are not the girls we were a year ago. It’s no wonder Jolene and I have nothing left in common. I’m a different person now, inside and out.

  “Harry will come home,” Lily says quietly. She laughs. “And we can get married. Oh, Ida, it all seems so unreal, so far away.”

  “It might be.” I take her greasy hand in my own, the hand of my new best friend. “But when it gets here, you’ll have earned every second of happiness you get.”

  “Both of us.” Lily grins then, and the world is okay again.

  “Wash up,” she says. “We’re going out for a steak dinner. Sky’s the limit!”

  We do what we can to look like pretty girls for the night. Lily puts her hair in a bun, and I tie mine back with a ribbon. Our best dresses have survived being rolled up tight in a duffel bag for so long. Within the hour, we’re presentable enough. Lily tosses her hair.

  “Patsy would be proud,” I say.

  Lily grins. “Come on, war hero. Let’s eat.”

  Our marching orders are waiting for us when we get back to the hotel. I kick off my shoes and lie back on my bed to open the envelope that was waiting for me down in the lobby.

  “Hmm, I’m supposed to go to Delaware. They’ve got a shipment of Helldivers to fly out here.”

  “Mmm,” Lily mumbles, but she isn’t listening. She had two envelopes waiting for her on the lobby table. The thick white envelope with her orders lies untouched on the other bed. She sits with her back to me, reading the second letter.

  “What is it?” I sit up to get a better look, but no luck.

  “It’s a telegram,” she says at last. She looks at me, and her eyes are bright. “From Harry! He’s back in the States, Ida, but only for a short time. Stationed in Pennsylvania. That’s on the way to Delaware, right?”

  “Sure, if you want to cut north early, I suppose.”

  “Oh, good!” She jumps up and runs a little circle between the beds, like she literally doesn’t know which way to turn. Finally, she just runs to me and gives me a hug.

  “Ida, we’re getting married!”

  I pat her on the back. “I know, honey, you’ve talked about it since the day we met.”

  Lily pulls back, shaking her head. “No, no. I mean now! In Pennsylvania. It’s all arranged with the base chaplain. He’s even got a copy of the Torah! Now, I know it’s not the same as a rabbi or a real wedding at temple, but I’ll take it, Ida, I will! I’m going to be Mrs. Harold Cohen. I can’t wait!”

  Fortunately, Lily’s orders have her flying with me to Delaware. We make things difficult for the travel dispatcher, taking the long way up to Pennsylvania to get to Delaware, but it’s worth it. The roundabout trip puts us in Chicago for a day, long enough to buy a proper veil and an easy-to-fly-with white satin dress.

  “Is it all right, Ida?” Lily asks me in the dressing room of Marshall Field’s.

  “You look like a million bucks, Lily. Trust me. You’ll knock Harry’s eyes right out of their sockets.”

  “I wish I could,” Lily says. “Then they’d have to Section 8 him and he could stay home with me.”

  “Right, and blame you for ruining his career as a surgeon.” I grin.

  She smiles back at me in the mirror. “I just wish Mother was here. But she wouldn’t approve of this. Running off to join the WASP was bad enough, but coming home married? What a scandal! Never mind that she approved of the engagement, threw a big party and everything.”

  She turns to me and sighs. “Mother always used to say, there’s nothing a good girl can do after midnight that she can’t do just as well beforehand. Only, instead of midnight, it’s this war. I suppose we should wait until the war’s over, but I don’t want to anymore, Ida. The longer I wait, the more I think the war will never end.”

  I shrug. “In that case, you’d better grab your coat.”

  We arrive at the base in Pennsylvania early on a Tuesday morning. Just before breakfast, I get my first look at Harry Cohen.

  Harry is exactly Lily’s height, with wavy dark brown hair trimmed neatly above the ears and neck and a way of making his stiff army officer uniform look casual. I like him instantly. He meets us on the tarmac as we come off our transport. Lily flies into his arms faster than a pursuit plane.

  “Yes, Harry, yes, Harry, yes!” Lily exclaims, kissing him all over his happy little face. I stand by our duffel bags and try to give the lovebirds a little privacy. It’s a long time before they take their eyes off of each other long enough to introduce me.

  “Ida Mae Jones,” Harry says, pumping my arm like he’s jumping a car engine. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Lily’s letters. What a pleasure!”

  “The pleasure’s all mine, Harry. If I can call you Harry.”

  “Better yet, call me brother. Lily says you’re like a sister to her. So that makes us all family. Or it will in a few minutes. Let me scare up the chaplain and we can get this show on the road!”

  The base chapel is nothing more than a clapboard room off the side of the administrative building. I help Lily get dressed in the lavatory. Someone’s donated a handful of daisies picked from the officers’ club lawn to serve as a bouquet. Twenty minutes after landing, we walk down the aisle.

  There’s an altar with a cross on it, but a Star of David has been placed alongside it for the ceremony. One of Harry’s friends, another doctor named Mike, stands next to me as a second witness. The chaplain is a young fellow going prematurely bald. He mops his brow and stumbles through some of the Hebrew wording.

  “This is my first wedding,” he explains. “I’m a base chaplain. I . . . well, it’s an honor to perform this service today.”

  No matter how the chaplain does, it doesn’t seem to matter. Lily looks like she’s hearing angels sing, and Harry’s got the same stars in his eyes. It’s the look Mama used to give Daddy before he died. A look no one’s ever given me, but I suppose I’ll recognize it now if they do, and I’ll marry them straightaway.

  “You may kiss the bride.”

  Harry pulls Lily into a clench that would do Clark Gable proud. We clap when the chaplain introduces them as Mr. and Mrs. Harry Cohen.

  “What now?” Lily asks.

  “Now it’s time for the reception, of course!” Harry takes us over to the officers’ club for an early lunch. We toast the happy couple and feast on salmon and boiled potatoes.

  “And now I’ve booked us the bridal suite at the best hotel in town,” Harry says when we’ve finished polishing off the plate of cookies that served as a wedding cake.

  “Harry, that’s impossible! We’ve got a plane to catch in less than an hour,” Lily says.

  Harry blushes. “Actually, I’ve had a look at your pilot. He seems a little flushed. Mikey here�
�s going to give him a thorough examination before he can take off. We might even prescribe a night’s bed rest.”

  “Is that so, Harold Cohen? You wouldn’t be abusing your Hippocratic oath, would you?”

  “My dear lady, I’ve sworn to do no harm. And what could cause more pain than missing out on my own wedding night?”

  “Ida, do you mind?”

  “Of course not. A night in a fancy hotel sounds swell. Enjoy it, Lily.”

  “Oh, that’s the other thing,” Harry says, blushing red again. “It’s not so much a hotel as one of the officers’ houses on base. He owes me a favor and he’s out of town, so I have the key.”

  “A real home?” Lily asks, sounding more excited than she did about the hotel room.

  Harry grins wide. “Only the best for my baby.”

  It looks like Delaware will have to wait.

  Chapter 24

  The honeymoon lasts all of eighteen hours and then the new Mrs. Cohen and I head to Delaware, where they have us testing newly repaired planes and running the occasional VIP from base to base. Not as glamorous as the B-29, but testing the planes can be a challenge, especially when the repairs don’t take. By the end of the eighth week, we’ve used our parachutes so much that we’ve both joined the Caterpillar Club ten times over. And then we get our new marching orders—report to officers’ training school in Florida.

  “What does it mean?” Lily asks. She’s just washed her hair, a once-a-week luxury for someone with curls like hers. It takes more time to comb them out than we usually have in a day. I’ve been plotting our next mission. The map lies forgotten on the bed.

  “It means Uncle Sam is finally making honest women out of us.” I slap the letter against my thigh. “Hot dog! This is it, Lily, the whole kit and caboodle. Officers’ pay, officers’ honors. Maybe we can even get them to go back and give Patsy a proper commendation.”

  “And a military burial,” Lily adds. She squeezes her hair dry in a thick white towel. “Now Mother will have to take me seriously. I’m not only a married woman, but I’ll also be an officer in the United States Army Air Forces.” Her eyes sparkle at the thought, and I know mine must be sparkling, too.

  What will Mama say when she finds out? Or Thomas, for that matter? They’ll be so proud. At least, I hope they will. I’m not saying that it’s permanent, but until the end of the war, this is a whole new life for me. One I’ve earned. I feel a grin take up residence on my face, and it looks like it’s there to stay.

  “Ida?”

  “Yes?”

  “Harry and I got married almost two months ago.”

  I roll my eyes and collapse back onto the bed. I cover my face with a pillow. “I know, Lily, it’s been one month and twenty-four days. You said so yourself this morning. You’ll count off every day for a year if someone doesn’t stop you soon.”

  Lily frowns at me. “That’s not what I mean. Do you remember how they used to keep track of our monthlies back at Avenger Field?”

  “Boy, do I.” It was something we all hated, having to tell Doc Monserud when we had our periods. Patsy said it was to make sure none of us was pregnant, but the Doc claimed it was to see if women with cramps could still fly. I’d never been so embarrassed in my whole life as I was that first month.

  “Once a month,” Lily says absently, pinning her hair up off her face.

  Suddenly, I get a funny feeling. “Why, Lily? What’s going on?”

  Lily says nothing. Just keeps pinning up her hair into a bun. When she’s finished, she comes and sits next to me. Her hands fumble in her lap.

  “Ida, it’s been two months and three days since my last period.”

  We both sit there, staring at each other. My travel clock ticks loudly on the dresser across the room. We both speak at once.

  “I think I’m pregnant.”

  “Congratulations!”

  “Oh!” Lily gasps, her hands flying into the air. “Congratulations? Ida, you’re not mad? I thought you’d be angry with me.”

  “Of course not, silly. You’re married. That’s what married women do, have babies.”

  Lily throws her arms around me and hugs so tight that her terry-cloth robe leaves little damp impressions on my khakis. Tears fill my eyes. “I’m so happy for both of you. Harry’s gonna be thrilled.”

  “He will be, won’t he?” Lily claps. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell him. But it’s got to be in person.”

  “Well, is he still stateside? We could swing by on the way to Florida.”

  Lily pauses, her shirt pulled over only one arm. “Ida, I can’t go to Florida. They’ll make me take a physical. They’ll send me home.”

  I close my eyes for just a second, to let it really sink in. “I know.” I realized it before she said it. She looks so happy. Otherwise, I could never let her go. “Well, I guess I’m flying the rest of this war without you.”

  Lily smiles at me and touches my cheek. It’s an odd gesture, coming from her. “You looked like my mother when you did that,” I tell her.

  Lily smiles even wider. “You know, Ida Mae Jones, you were born to be a WASP. You’ll do just fine without me.”

  Dear Jolene . . .

  I stop with my pen above the paper. I don’t know what comes next. All I do know is that I’ve never felt so alone in all my life since Lily left.

  “Do you think you’ll ever go home, too?” she asked me when I dropped her off at the train station this morning in a borrowed jeep. “Your family would love to have you back.”

  “Yeah, I suppose they would,” I told her. “But . . .” There were so many things I couldn’t say, so I said nothing. Lily shook her head.

  “Like I said, born to be a WASP. Well, stay safe, Jonesy. And good luck.”

  “To you, too, Lil.” We hugged for a long time. I promised to come visit, and then she was gone.

  Chapter 25

  I’m not a drinking person, but if I were, I’d have a drink right now. I leave my letter to Jolene unwritten and head across base to the officers’ club, where I can get a cold Coca-Cola and enough warm bodies around me not to feel quite so alone.

  This is Delaware. The air is damp and cool here. It smells like a summer rain might be on its way. I put my hands in my pockets and walk faster.

  The door to the OC swings shut behind me.

  “Well, if it isn’t Jones.”

  “Leave it open, we could use the breeze.”

  I peer into the afternoon gloom and see a blond head turned my way. It’s Audrey Hill, my old squadron leader from Avenger Field.

  “Audrey!” I rush toward her and our vigorous handshake becomes a hug.

  “Hey, it’s just like the old days at the Avengerette,” Audrey says. She’s smoking a cigarette and looks tired around the eyes, but I almost believe her.

  “You remember Randi?” She nods to the sultry redhead on the next bar stool, the same one she introduced me to that first night out on the town during training.

  “Sure, I do. Men are the enemy, prepare to do battle,” I say echoing our last conversation.

  Randi gives me a big smile. “Those were the days, weren’t they?” She shakes my hand.

  “Say, where’s the little gal you used to fly with . . . Lori, was it?”

  “Lily.” I feel the temporary ban on my blues vanish. “Well, believe it or not, she got married and she’s having a baby.”

  “That’s a one-way ticket home for sure,” Randi says.

  “Good for her,” Audrey exclaims. “See, Randi, that’s the way to do it. Find yourself a good man and settle down.”

  Randi snorts and I realize there’s rum in the Cokes they’ve been drinking.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to do,” Randi replies.

  I fidget with my shirt buttons. “So, what sorrow are you girls drowning today?”

  “Sorrow?” Audrey laughs. “No, we’re celebrating. You should join us.” She offers me the empty stool beside her. I sit down, glad of the company, even if it is tipsy.

&nbs
p; “Barkeep, a drink for the lady,” Audrey says, sounding more than a little like Patsy.

  “Coca-Cola, please,” I add.

  When the drink comes, I hold it with both hands. I don’t seem to know what to do with them otherwise.

  “So, what are we celebrating?” I ask again.

  “Operation Overlord, of course!” Audrey says, waving her glass in the air. “Don’t tell me you don’t listen to the news.”

  “Or the scuttlebutt,” Randi adds.

  “Well, sure,” I reply. “But—”

  Audrey interrupts me. “Nine hundred thousand men storming the beaches of France. We’ve broken the Nazi line, Jones.”

  “The war will be over in a week,” Randi exclaims.

  “Hear, hear!” Audrey salutes her. “Bloody messy, though,” she adds more quietly. “We lost as many as we took.”

  “So I hear,” I say. It’s an understatement. Six thousand dead, and they’ve not finished counting the wounded. I take a sip of my cola. It’s gone flat. Quite a celebration.

  “I ferried some of the fighters they used in the cover mission,” I tell them. It was an Allied gamble that had worked. Eisenhower faked an attack up the coast of France with phony tanks and a few real planes. Hitler had his eyes on the northern town of Calais when the Allies stormed Normandy to the south.

  “Congratulations, Ida.” Audrey clinks her glass against mine. “Consider yourself a toe in the boot that kicked Hitler’s arse.”

  For the first time, I smile. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “Now, what else should we celebrate?” Randi asks. She looks like she’s celebrated plenty enough to me. But I remember my good news.

  “Oh, I know. I’m off to Florida for officers’ training. It looks like Jackie Cochran’s going to get us militarized after all,” I announce.

  I raise my glass, but the other two girls just laugh.