Macha is sure it’s in Santa Monica Bay. Fabian is not so sure.
“We’ve scoured the bay. It’s possible we missed her; I don’t rule that out. But we really focused on the areas just off the runways and it just wasn’t there,” said Fabian. “Maybe she flew farther off-shore before she crashed.”
Macha thinks this is unlikely, saying WASPs did not like flying over the ocean. They were not trained for it. When taking off from Los Angeles, they invariably made a sweeping left turn and headed inland. He believes Jacobs’s account of seeing the plane falter and thinks it plummeted into the bay, perhaps now covered with material from the sewage treatment plant or from outflow from Ballona Creek.
“It’s fascinated all of us,” said Fabian. “But it’s possible that she’s up in the mountains or out in the desert.”
A kind of cult of searchers and interested followers has grown up around the woman whose stutter disappeared forever when she raced into the blue on silver wings. The passion of her family and aircraft historians ensures that the search will continue into the foreseeable future.
EPILOGUE
It became a family tradition to call out “Be sure and look for Gertrude!” whenever her relatives set off on travels. At the time of her disappearance, both sisters, Elizabeth Tompkins Whittall and Margaret Tompkins Wade, considered the possibility that Gertrude had flown off and into hiding. She was unhappy with her marriage, and her career as a WASP was coming to an end. Was it possible that she flew to Mexico, ditched her plane, and started life with a new identity? Entertaining this notion was one way the family dealt with the heartbreak of this unsolved mystery, a tragedy that two generations of Gertrude’s survivors have lived with.
For Ken and Laura Whittall-Scherfee the search for Laura’s great-aunt Gertrude had become part of the fabric of their lives, ever since Laura sent her first letter to the air force. The family needed some kind of closure, but search after search had revealed no hint of what had happened to Gertrude’s P-51.
At a WASP reunion in 2002, 200 WASPs and their guests sat at tables in a US Air Force hanger at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base near Tucson, Arizona. WASP numbers were dwindling as age claimed the valiant fliers.
Among the guests were Ken and Laura. They moved among the crowd, talking with WASPs who had known Gertrude, gleaning information from the misty memories of women who piloted World War II’s airplanes. They sat with Mickey Axton, who wanted to know all about what they had learned during the latest search. Mickey was Gertrude’s closest friend in the WASPs and flew with her at Pecos. Mickey believed that she, too, had been ferrying a plane out of Los Angeles the same day as Gertrude’s last flight.
The WASPs in attendance were mostly in their vigorous eighties and even nineties, hair neatly set and curled in shades of white and gray and pale blue.
They had volunteered to fly at a time when their country was fighting for its survival, during the darkest days early in World War II, when America was desperate for pilots. During the brief lifespan of the WASPs the women had flown over 60 million miles in service to their country.
This night they called out to old friends, squinting at name tags, talking in groups of four and five, sometimes hugging, sometimes holding hands. Many still flew, and some had piloted their own planes to the semiannual convention. Several used canes or walkers. Some still fit into their uniforms, and many wore their silver WASP pilot wings.
They looked on, bright-eyed and expectant, as they waited for the honor guard to begin the evening with the presentation of colors. Proud women unafraid of displays of patriotism, they fidgeted and looked for Old Glory. Where were the colors? There were mutterings amid the tinkle of glasses.
“I can’t forget that there were 25,000 applicants for my job,” said former WASP Vivian Eddy, peering over stylish half-glasses, as she waited.
“Do you remember Margie Collins? Couldn’t do lazy eights and so they washed her out. She was heartbroken.”
“The Chinese girl who died in the P-40 in Great Falls—what was her name?”
“Hazel Ying Lee.”
Heads nodded, remembering.
“Burned in her cockpit after a horrible crash.” Silence, as if to honor the dead.
Ten minutes passed. The young air force officers at the head table, hosts for this reunion, muttered nervously, sipping their drinks. One of the officers busily punched at her cell phone. Food servers lounged in clumps of three and four, waiting for the signal to start.
The honor guard and the American flag were still glaringly absent.
The air force major with the cell phone finally rose and took the microphone, her features flushed.
“I’m sorry ladies. There’s been a foul-up. The honor guard will not be with us tonight.”
“Well, what did you expect?” said one of the ladies in the audience loudly. “We’re WASPs. We’ve always been overlooked.” Ironic laughter rippled through the crowd, but the truth was discrimination was something the women never got used to. Once again the WASPs had received the back of their government’s hand, an attitude that lingered as a vestige of a war that ended 57 years before.
But they were no longer resigned to the discrimination and injustice that went with being a female pilot, a fly girl, as they’d been called during the war. The old feelings surfaced at the tables in the hanger. They were tired of hearing that the WASPs were “nothing but glamour girls in pretty uniforms.” They were angry at being marginalized.
Thirty-eight WASPS died in the line of duty flying for their country. Why couldn’t they be buried in Arlington National Cemetery, where other veterans had the right to be laid to rest?
The WASPs were never paid the same as regular air force pilots. They were never granted rank or military status, insurance or hospitalization. Their requests for veteran’s benefits were brushed aside.
Their premature and poorly managed dismissal from service in late 1944, a sad chapter in America’s military history, resided painfully in the heart of every WASP at the banquet that evening.
As the salad was placed before her, WASP Mickey Axton brought up Gertrude Tompkins Silver. Some of them remembered Gertrude, how she never seemed to quite fit in.
“Perhaps it was because she was older,” a woman with white hair said, and suddenly the focus of the table was this mysterious and handsome woman who took off in her P-51 that day, never to be seen again.
Before her death, Mickey Axton said, “We need to find Gertrude. We need all members accounted for. Because all we have now is a sky full of memories.”
AFTERWORD
I was researching another writing project in 1999 when I came across the story of Gertrude Tompkins Silver. Digging into her story, I grew to like and admire a woman who has been presumed dead since 1944. She haunts every page of this book.
Hers is the amazing story of a woman overcoming a lifelong handicap during a few magical minutes in the sky. It is also a uniquely American story, resonating with our desire for fair play and our cheers for the underdog. We want Gertrude’s stutter to be cured, and we also want the WASPs to be recognized and honored for their unique contribution. These intrepid fliers were overlooked and discriminated against for too many years, yet there is no question that they changed America’s attitude about women pilots.
Gertrude’s sister, Elizabeth Tompkins Whittall, lived in Vero Beach, Florida. When I began my interviews and correspondence with her in 2002 she was 93. In conversations and subsequent correspondence, she proved to be full of life and very open about the family history. Her memoir, From There to Here, provides many insights into her family and into Gertrude’s life. Elizabeth died in 2010 at 101.
My interviews with Elizabeth and with Ken and Laura Whittall-Scherfee were the basis for this book. Ken and Laura live in California, and it was my pleasure to spend time with them recording their memories, the family history, and the speculation as to what may have happened to Gertrude. Over the years we exchanged frequent communication by phone and mail. They read th
is manuscript for accuracy in 2015, as did some of Laura’s family, all relatives of Gertrude.
Henry Silver, Gertrude’s widower husband and Vreeland Tompkins’s “second son,” succeeded Vreeland as president of Smooth-On Inc. in 1950 and continued in that capacity until his death in 1964, at age 61. Henry never remarried, and his daughter, Ann Vreeland Wood, says he mourned Gertrude until the day he died.
Ann Vreeland Wood never met her stepmother. Henry adopted her as a baby, and she was raised by him in the MacDougal Street apartments until his death. She dropped the Silver from her name and goes by Ann Vreeland Wood.
Ann said there were “so many stories, including one that Gertrude was on her way home to take care of me when she crashed.” She said many of them were designed to protect her from the knowledge of the circumstances surrounding her birth. Ann lives in New Mexico with her husband. She’s an avid birdwatcher.
Vreeland Tompkins, Gertrude’s father, died in 1957, and her mother, Laura, lived to be 91 and died in 1977. Gertrude’s sister Margaret Tompkins Wade died in 1976.
I was fortunate to have begun this project when some of the original WASPs were still attending reunions and staying in communication with one another. As I interviewed them, they referred me to others who knew Gertrude Tompkins, creating a network of informants.
I interviewed Duncan Miller, Gertrude’s fellow pilot in Brownsville, by telephone at his home in Vacaville, California, where he owned six planes, including a fully restored BT-13 Vibrator, one of the planes Gertrude flew and disliked during basic training.
Many of the tales of Gertrude’s life as a WASP came from women who flew with her or knew her while in the WASPs, including Mickey Axton and Winifred Wood. Their interviews were a delight, casting light on a unique period when women reached for the sky. After the WASP era, it would be several decades before women pilots would once again be in cockpits and at the controls in a military setting. Mickey Axton lived in Arizona and died in 2010. Win Wood lived near Palm Springs and died in 2009.
Gertrude’s WASP training, service, and search are also supported by military documents.
Fewer than 100 WASPs are still living at the time of this writing, but the memories of those who have passed are kept alive by their children, grandchildren, and by institutions dedicated to WASP history. The WASPs were finally recognized by Congress in 1977 and were granted benefits similar to those of other World War II veterans. In 2002 the first WASP was allowed interment in Arlington National Cemetery, although in 2015 these privileges were withdrawn by the secretary of the army. After pressure from families of WASPs as well as current female military pilots, WASP Elaine D. Harmon was allowed burial in Arlington on September 5, 2016.
In 2010 Laura Whittall-Scherfee was the recipient of the Congressional Gold Medal on behalf of Gertrude. This gathering of several hundred family members and WASPs provided long-overdue recognition to the WASPs for their service during World War II. The two-day event began with a memorial service for the 38 WASPs who died in service to their country. A family member for each of the missing sat on the front row. One by one as each name was read aloud, a family representative placed a red rose on a pedestal. Laura Whittall-Scherfee was proud to be the family representative for Gertrude. “It was an experience I will never forget,” she said. The memorial service occurred at the Air Force Memorial in Arlington, Virginia, and culminated with the air force “missing man” formation flying overhead. The Congressional Gold Medal was awarded the next day in a ceremony in the Rotunda of the US Capitol.
On December 3, 2015, the US secretary of defense, Ash Carter, for the first time authorized American women for combat. It was recognition that the thousands of women who served in Iraq and Afghanistan—many of whom were killed or wounded—were in combat whether designated for it or not.
Regarding Stanley Michael “Mike” Kolendorski, Gertrude’s first love: Originally from New Jersey, he was an American pilot who flew for the Royal Air Force. He fought the Germans in England’s Eagle Squadron 71 before America got into the war. During the war, 244 Americans flew in RAF Eagle Squadrons, and 71 were killed. I tried to learn more about him from the Royal Air Force but was told that only family members could have access to pilots’ casualty information. Eventually I found Mike’s surviving nephew living in New Jersey. He had never met his late uncle but had been named for him. He graciously contacted the RAF and was able to get confirmation of Pilot Officer Kolendorski’s death. He conveyed to me the information used in this book.
Elizabeth Whittall was not certain this was the man her sister had loved. I reviewed the information from the RAF records with her, and she thought it sounded right, but … She had heard the man’s name, but by the time I asked her to recall it she could only say she thought “it started with a C.” More than 75 years later, we can never be absolutely certain who Gertrude’s first love was, but Kolendorski is the likeliest candidate to fit the information and the time frame. He was born in New Jersey, left on a motorcycle for California during the Depression, and had married and divorced in California before joining the RAF. I am grateful to his namesake and nephew, Stanley Michael Kolendorski, for accessing the RAF files as a next of kin and sharing them with me.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To all the Tompkins family members, friends, and acquaintances of Gertrude’s whose assistance I described in the afterword, I extend my sincere and heartfelt thanks. Additionally, I appreciate Pat Macha for his time in filling me in on his search efforts and technology. He also provided much information about how aircraft were utilized in World War II. Jim Blunt told me about diving for the wreck. I am also indebted to Gary Fabian, who with Pat Macha has spent many hours in researching and hunting for Gertrude’s P-51.
I spent countless hours with the late Bob Ivory in his Cessna 172 flying across the West. He was a wonderful instructor. Two other former military pilots and personal friends, Lou Siegel and Kevin McCarthy, provided information that enabled me to add color and dimension to this narrative.
I cannot overlook the hard work of my agents, Sheree Bykofsky and her colleague Janet Rosen. They encouraged me and helped shape the proposal that resulted in this work. Lisa Reardon at Chicago Review Press improved this book with her careful editing and thoughtful suggestions. Claudia Wood worked very hard to make sure Seized by the Sun was accurate in every detail. Ellen Hornor meticulously shepherded the book through the production process, and Sarah Olson gets high praise for her jacket design and interior layout.
I am indebted to Lavina Fielding Anderson, who read this manuscript in its youth and made important suggestions. She has been a friend and an astute reader for 20 years.
Thank you to all the others who helped with Gertrude’s story: Judith F. Duchan, emeritus professor from the Department of Communicative Disorders and Sciences at the University of Buffalo; Margaret Hatch, PhD, psychologist, Salt Lake City, Utah; the US Air Force Records Division; the US Army Records Division; the Royal Air Force Personnel Management Agency (Casualty); Winifred Wood, WASP 43-W-7; Mickey Axton, WASP 43-W-7; Betty Blake, WASP 43-W-1; Lela Lowder Harding, WASP 43-W-7; Kimberly Johnson, director, Special Collections and University Archivist, Woman’s Collection, WASP Archives, Texas Women’s University Libraries, Denton; Dawn Letson, Official Archives, Women’s Air Force Service, Texas Women’s University; Corynthia Dorgan, Official Archives, Texas Women’s University Libraries, Denton; Sarah Swan, Public Affairs Division, National Museum of the US Air Force; Nancy Parrish of Wings Across America; the children and grandchildren of WASPs and others who are active with the WASP user group on Yahoo, especially Andy Hailey, Amy Nathan, Chig Lewis, and Katherine Sharp Landdeck. Their exchanges kept me apace of the WASP network.
I know I have overlooked some who helped during the course of writing this book, and I want to thank them and offer apologies.
I hope that someday Gertrude is found.
As Virginia Allison wrote, “For my soul lies dormant, restless, waiting for that moment when shackles are cast
aside and it is free to fly once more.”
US AIR FORCE LIST OF GERTRUDE TOMPKINS SILVER’S PERSONAL EFFECTS RECOVERED FROM FOOTLOCKERS AND QUARTERS
Below is a reproduction of the official air force inventory from undated and unsigned typed sheets. The inventory was probably compiled from lockers at the different bases from which Gertrude flew. All spelling and punctuation are from the original documents. The checks are from friends and relatives and were probably birthday gifts. Gertrude went missing before receiving them.
(Page 1)
3 Lipsticks
4 Spools Thread
2 Negative prints of photo
1 Razor container, empty
11 Panties, silk
1 Cloth bag full of silk hose
1 Garter belt
1 Slip, silk
2 Brassieres
2 Girdles
1 Hat, black
2 Pr. Gloves, pigskin, white
6 Handkerchiefs
Green material for curtains
1 Basket containing:
3 Necklaces, beaded
3 Pr. Earrings
1 Clip (Costume jewelry)
1 Pr. Wings, WASP
1 Small lapel wings insignia
1 Bunch Artificial Flowers
2 Neckties
4 Pr. Socks
1 Washcloth
1 Cosmetic pouch
1 Cap
2 Kerchiefs
1 Tobacco pouch
1 Pr. Silk stockings
1 Small leather photo fold
3 Hair nets
2 Belts
1 Ball wool mending thread
1 Kodak slide
1 Wooden trinket
1 Shoe cloth
1 Small clock in carrying case
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