Radar Girls

by Sara Ackerman

  Once she made it a safe distance away, she slowed her pace. The flatlands here in Mokulˉe‘ia soaked up the morning sun like a brick oven and her blouse stuck to her back. Even in December, the heat could be brutal. Just before town, she stopped under a monkey pod tree for a moment of shade and to collect herself. The horses and the ranch had been her life and she couldn’t imagine her world without them. Also, being there tethered her to her father in a way that nothing else could.

  She was off in a daydream, and hardly noticed the jeep approaching until it was upon her, a hair too late to duck off into the cane fields. Instead, she leaned over and pretended to fiddle with her shoe.

  The car slowed and then came to a stop. “Miss Wilder, we meet again.”

  She looked up. “Sir.”

  General Danielson climbed out, leaned against the car and lit a cigarette. The smoke hung all around his face in the windless air. “Sounds to me like you could use a job about now.”

  She forced herself to meet his gaze. “You don’t want me.”

  “What I want is to hear what happened with that horse straight from your mouth. There are always two sides to a story,” he said, looking genuinely curious.

  Daisy told him the blunt truth.

  When she finished, he cocked his head. “Sounds like an honest mistake with no harm intended. Now, when I see a woman who works hard to earn a living—and I can tell by your hands that you do—I tend to pay attention. I’m looking for gals exactly like you.”

  She shrugged. “The work I do is simple.”

  “Can I give you a tip?” he said.

  Clearly he was going to whether she liked it or not. “Sure.”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear about yourself. It tends to be false.”

  She looked at him more closely, his creased forehead and thin lips. “I appreciate the offer, sir, but my mother and I will be evacuating to the Mainland, where it’s safer. My mother isn’t well and she needs me.”

  “You have a ticket already?” he asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Do you have any other family to help with your mom?”

  The term family always filled Daisy with longing. When you lived in a place where four generations of people spilled out the windows of tiny plantation homes, you got a real taste of what the word meant. Daisy had none of that. Just a mother with an incurable sadness and some aunt in California whom she’d never met.

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, maybe I could help you arrange passage for her?”

  “Sorry, General. I need to go with her.”

  He looked her up and down, not in that way that some men did. She could tell he was simply taking stock. She suddenly felt self-conscious of her grease-smeared pants that fell inches too short, and the blouse with mismatched buttons.

  “What if I told you the pay is good—$140 a month. You’ll get your meals and you’ll be considered an officer.”

  That got her attention.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me, miss. Not only will you be serving your country, you’ll be paid well to do so.”

  Double her salary at the ranch. Maybe she could build up a small savings. But could she send Louise off on her own? Granted, her aunt had been asking them to come for a long time now. “Can I think about it?” she said.

  “This is important work, something you will always be proud of. Let me know by tomorrow. Here’s my number.”

  As it turned out, there wasn’t much thinking to do. She felt needed in a way she never had before. This was a chance of a lifetime to prove herself worthy, and she couldn’t pass it up.

  4

  THE DEPARTURE

  On a bright and sunny Christmas Day, Daisy stood with her mother on the docks at Honolulu Harbor. Instead of being serenaded with music and flower leis, the passengers—all women and children evacuees—were herded onto the SS Lurline like cattle. There were also wounded men carried in on stretchers. The ship’s white hull had been painted battleship gray and converted to a troop ship almost overnight. In order to avoid torpedoes, the ship would follow a zigzag pattern across the Pacific. The Matson freighter Lahaina had been destroyed by a submarine the previous week, making everyone even more anxious than they already were.

  Up until now, so much time had been spent readying her mother for the move, Daisy had scarcely had time to think about it. Though now, seeing Louise with her patched purse and red lipstick–—something she hadn’t worn in years—she looked like a child playing dress-up. The thought of Louise all alone on the crossing took the air right out of Daisy’s lungs. Who knew if it was the right thing to do, but plans had already been made and they’d come this far. Daisy hugged her. “I’ll come and get you when this is over. I promise.”

  Her mother had come alive some in the past days, being stubborn and ornery about what she wanted to bring. This was the most opinionated Daisy had seen her in years, and she prayed that it kept up. She’d take pigheaded over apathy any day.

  Louise placed her hands on Daisy’s cheeks, and looked up into her eyes. There was a light tremor in her touch. “Don’t you worry about me. You just do your best at whatever this new job is and help win this war, you hear me?”

  Her job over the past decade had been to worry about her mother, so not worrying would be like not breathing.

  “I love you, Mom,” Daisy said, pressing her face into Louise’s freshly washed hair and inhaling hints of rose and beeswax. Her mother’s hair had always been thick and blond with the perfect amount of wave, even in her decline. A sad reminder of what she’d once been, when women wanted to be her, and men plain old wanted her. When they finally pulled apart, Daisy turned and ran the whole way back to the train station, the loss pressing in on all sides.

  This Christmas would be the worst on record, if you didn’t count the year her father died. There were no Christmas lights in Waialua streets, no Douglas fir trees, and all the poinsettias in town sat on newly dug graves instead of tabletops. News had also been trickling in about more and more local Japanese civilians being rounded up and put in what they were calling camps. Some were told to leave their farms or be shot, while others were pulled out of classrooms and homes at all hours of the day and night.

  With nothing to celebrate, Daisy instead took the time to scour the shack. She washed all the linens, scrubbed the wooden floorboards, hosed down the lauhala mats, tidied up her mother’s room and put away the clutter that tended to accumulate over the course of just one day while she was away at the stables. There was now a strange emptiness, an indentation in the air where her mother had once dwelled. A house takes on the personality of its inhabitants, and Daisy felt almost disrespectful to relocate things or throw them out. But Louise was gone and everything was about to change.

  * * *

  The new year seemed like it would never come, and yet now that it had, Daisy paced back and forth on the deck second-guessing her outfit and worrying about the so-called intelligence test all the girls would have to take. She looked at her watch. General Danielson had said he’d arrange for transport, and now that transport was late.

  Dressed in her only skirt, a pleated number with a coffee stain hidden between the folds, and a white buttoned blouse, she wished she was wearing pants. Her blond hair was cut short, above her shoulders, and she had tried to pin some curls into it last night, but rinsed them in the morning because they were all going in opposite directions. On the rare occasion that she ever curled her hair, she’d had her mother to help her.

  Out front, an early morning rain squall hung over the water, cloud tops tinged pink from the sun. The seas had flattened out, reflecting the clouds back up to the moody sky. Normally, she would be on her way to the ranch, and she longed to go back. She missed the horses and Mr. Silva. Working with animals came naturally to her. Working with people did not. Where might Moon be at this very moment? Anyone
who knew horses would know he was something special, and anyone on this side of the island was likely to know he belonged to Mr. Montgomery. Which made her wonder: Where the hell was Moon?

  Daisy wished she could drive herself to town. The Wilders did own a car, but it sat rusted in the carport with four flat tires and a dead motor. It had been her father’s, but Louise was not able to keep it running and eventually she gave up. Daisy always intended to fix it, but she never had the time.

  An engine cut through the lull of the shore break, and a moment later a red Pontiac pulled up the drive and into the yard. A horn blasted. Daisy peered over the railing and then jumped back and flattened herself against the wall. The Montgomerys. Danielson must have some clout, but there was no way she could endure a ride to Honolulu with Walker Montgomery and his sister. Absolutely not. She’d have to feign ill. The horn honked again. She considered running down the beach and into the water instead of climbing in the car with those two, but then she thought of General Danielson and his kind way. Of his reassurance that he did in fact need her.

  You can do this.

  Daisy hurried to the car. “Are you my ride?”

  Walker glanced around the yard. “You see anyone else around here? Hop in, we’re late.”

  She did as told, sliding onto the soft leather seat. Peg did not turn around but Daisy thought she might have mumbled a hello. Thankfully, the motor was loud enough that it would be hard to speak over, and the car creaked and groaned as they bounced along the unpaved driveway faster than was prudent. She kept trying to think of something reasonable to say but could not find any words.

  Peg wore her hair rolled up on both sides and Daisy wondered how long it had taken her to get ready. She tried not to look at Walker, but failed. His shoulders took up half of the front seat, and he chewed his gum in double time. He was one of those men born with an overabundance of everything manly. Dark five-o’clock shadow even after he’d just shaved, square jaw, low radio-announcer voice and hands the size of baseball mitts. When he turned his face one way or the other, his olive skin glowed in the sunlight. Daisy looked away.

  Walker had always been that older Montgomery boy, the one every young girl on their side of the island had a hankering for. He could throw a football farther, ride a horse faster, shoot a gun straighter than the other boys. Daisy had always avoided him because he was the only boy who caused her heart rate to jump, and she did not like the feeling. The bottom line was simple: Walker was 100 percent off-limits.

  They passed through town, snaked their way up Kaukonahua Road and came upon Schofield Barracks—which still carried the scent of burning buildings. Daisy had not been here since the bombing, and could not tear her eyes away. Wheeler Field was a black mess of airplane carcasses and splintered hangars. The runway had been cleared, but there were still damaged planes everywhere.

  “Unbelievable,” Daisy said to no one in particular.

  Walker met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Thirty-six men killed and a whole lot more wounded. A boatload of aircraft destroyed. Those Japs knew exactly where to hit us.”

  “All that black...” she said, remembering how the smoke over Wahiawa had nearly blotted out the sun.

  She knew from the boys at the ranch that Walker had broken his hand during a polo match and had been unable to ship out with the Enterprise. He was now on desk duty, which he said he hated. Thank goodness all the carriers had been at sea during the attack.

  Peg reached over and put a hand on Walker’s shoulder. “My big brother here singlehandedly took down one of those fighters, and nearly crashed into our house while doing so.”

  Daisy perked up, leaning forward. “Wait, were you in one of the P-40s that took off from Hale‘iwa?”

  “I was.”

  It felt good to finally have something to say. “There was a gunfight between one of those pilots and a Japanese warplane directly over my head while I was diving. The Japanese plane fell not thirty feet away from me. I can’t believe that was you,” Daisy said, every detail etched in her mind.

  “Believe it,” he said.

  She almost mentioned Moon being spooked by the planes but thought the better of it. “I’m no expert in air combat, but that was some impressive maneuvering.”

  “Walker is good at everything,” Peg said.

  “How did you know to be up there?” Daisy asked.

  “My buddy PJ called in a panic and told me about the bombing, how all our fighters at Wheeler had been nailed and wanting to know about Hale‘iwa. Turns out he and a friend had flown their P-40s out there the day before and left them. I told him to meet me as fast as he could get there.”

  Daisy remembered his disheveled look that morning at the stables. “So after that fight, you drove to the stables? How did you fly with your hand?”

  “I did what I had to. And I had to grab the guns. At that point I had no idea it was too late. We all thought they were coming back.”

  That was the curious thing—that the Japanese Navy had not returned yet.

  “General Danielson seems to think it’s just a matter of time. It’s why he needs us,” Daisy said.

  Peg shot her a look. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up. My friend Helen’s uncle knows a thing or two about what we’ll be doing. The work is technical and mathematical and you need to be sharp as a brand-new razor, he says.”

  “Aren’t you a little nervous, then?” Daisy asked.

  From what she remembered, Peg had nice penmanship but she was far from the brightest girl in class. The words seemed to fly right over her head.

  “Today’s meeting is just informational, and for weeding out gals who are not fit,” Peg said.

  Walker fiddled with the radio but didn’t say anything. Daisy rolled her window down all the way, letting the cool wind blast her face. More than anything, she wanted to apologize to Walker for stealing his horse. But not in front of Peg, not now. She let her mind wander to the mysterious assignment ahead and if she would be cut out for it. She could gallop a horse bareback, but give her a written test and she’d break out in a cold sweat and forget her own name. Failing the test would be a horrible embarrassment, a disaster.

  They rode in a painful silence much of the way, until Peg said to her brother, “Thelma’s going to be there, did she mention that?”

  “Nope. Haven’t spoken in a while.”

  “Don’t let that one slip away, Walker.”

  “Lay off, Sis. I have enough to worry about right now.”

  Daisy kept her focus on the pineapple cannery out the window, but her ears were tuned in. The car accelerated some and Walker turned up the radio. Peg gave him a sideways glance and shook her head. Daisy got to wondering: What kind of woman would land Walker Montgomery?

  5

  THE PALACE

  Walker let them out at ‘Iolani Palace, which was a good twenty minutes out of his way. Peg gave him a peck on the cheek, then marched right past Daisy toward the Palace, not saying a word. Daisy felt like a servant or an obedient dog as she trailed after her. She smoothed her stained skirt and hoped for the best.

  The Palace stood like a stone fortress, with layers of history folded into each rock. As they walked across the threshold, Daisy felt the hairs on her arm stand on end. Once a home for the queens and kings of Hawai‘i, it later became a prison for Queen Liliuokalani during the overthrow, and now was being used by the military for secret trainings. A sense of importance hung in the air, of grand things past and present. It was an honor to be here, that was for certain.

  They were directed to a room with blackout boxes in the windows and armed guards by the doors. It felt like a strange place to be training to serve the American government. There was a musty smell to the place that was partly masked by a roomful of women wearing perfume. Daisy hated perfume. It made her nose tickle and her eyes run.

  Peg seemed to know everyone, and hugged and kissed
most of the women there. They were a well-dressed bunch, with hats and rolled-up hair and loads of lipstick and stylish A-line dresses. But what stood out the most was their whiteness. Living in Waialua, Daisy was used to being surrounded by Japanese, Chinese, Portuguese, Filipino and Hawaiian neighbors. Here, there were only a few—though no Japanese women—and being surrounded by so many haole felt foreign.

  After signing in, she walked straight to the back of the room, avoiding all eye contact as she went. There was one open chair between a Chinese woman in a sky blue mu‘umu‘u and a fresh-faced beauty who looked like she could have still been in high school. They both nodded as Daisy sat. The chattering of women’s voices reminded her of the school cafeteria, a place where she hated going because she never knew where to sit and half the time ended up outside eating alone under the big old monkey pod tree.

  The woman in the mu‘umu‘u stuck out her hand and said, “I’m Lei Davis. I haven’t seen you around.”

  Daisy shook. “I live all the way out in Waialua. Pleased to meet you. I’m Daisy Wilder.”

  “And here I thought I knew everyone in this town.”

  Lei was the kind of woman who might have been twenty-four or thirty-four, her skin was that luminous. Daisy could go only by her confident demeanor, which leaned toward mature.

  The other girl, who looked part Hawaiian, gave her a wide smile with two perfect dimples and bright red lips. “Gosh you’re tall. You look like a swimmer.”

  “I do swim, but I’m not a swimmer.”

  The girl gave her a funny look, then laughed. “That sounds like a paradox to me. By the way, I’m Fluff Kanahele, and I’m studying to be an English teacher—or at least I was, before this whole calamity happened.”