Radar Girls

by Sara Ackerman

  Only then did he turn. “Hey there, Thelma.”

  He didn’t get out, didn’t say anything else, just awkwardly sat there.

  “Did you fly today?” Thelma asked, standing close to his window and twirling a piece of hair.

  “Nah, we had ground training. New planes.”

  “Will you be staying here in Hawai‘i or leaving?”

  Walker started the car. “It all depends,” he said.

  Thelma seemed desperate to keep the conversation going. She bent over, showing a valley of cleavage. “Well, now we’ll be helping keep you boys safe.”

  “Glad to hear it. Say, we need to get going,” he said, starting up the car.

  “I’d love to—”

  “See you later,” he said, waving as they drove off. As much as Daisy was not taken with Thelma, she felt a tad sorry for her. The least Walker could have done was get out and show a little affection. Wasn’t that what boyfriends did? Though Daisy wouldn’t know firsthand because she had never officially had one. Peg swatted as him. “That wasn’t very nice.”

  “What?”

  “You haven’t even seen her since the attack. You should have greeted her properly.”

  He shrugged. “I said hello.”

  “Come on, be a gentleman. You know how she feels about you.”

  He stepped on the gas. “Lay off, would you? I’m not in the mood.”

  Peg didn’t push it. And Daisy could have sworn his neck flushed red as the fish scales in her freezer. She enjoyed the breeze, pressed against the leather seat as they raced along Kam Highway going twice the normal speed. Was this how all pilots drove?

  By the time they reached Wahiawa, she felt herself nodding off. For the sake of not looking like a fool, she tried to stay upright and alert, but her head felt so good resting on the soft headrest. The past few weeks of being on edge all day and tossing and turning all night were catching up. What seemed like a few seconds later, she felt something moving up her leg. She froze. The room was dark, and there was someone standing over her, whispering in Japanese. He was tapping her with his rifle. In one motion, she slapped the gun away and tried to roll out the bed.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, take it easy! You’re dreaming, Daisy.”

  Her eyes shot open. Oh God. Walker had his arm slung over the seat and was looking at her with concern.

  She wiped her chin and bolted upright. “I’m sorry, I fell asleep. I thought you were—”

  “You’re home, you’re safe,” he said. “Don’t worry, we’re all having nightmares and we’re all exhausted.”

  For the first time, she noticed the shadows beneath his eyes, and a hollow red-rimmed sadness in his face. Daisy scooped up her helmet and her gas mask and slid to the door, wondering why he was being nice to her.

  “Thanks for the ride. What time should I be ready in the morning?”

  “I have to go in early, so we’ll be leaving here at five.”

  Peg groaned, but early mornings were Daisy’s favorite. Everything was calm—the water, the horses, the sky. It was the reverse of sunset, and she loved watching the colors turn from ink to orange to blue. And anyway, she could use the extra time at the Palace to study. “See you then,” she said.

  Instead of going inside, she kicked off her shoes, tossed her stuff into the grass and ran down to the beach. Gray storm clouds filled the Kaua‘i Channel and she guessed she had about ten minutes before the rain hit. By habit now, she scanned the sky for planes, but saw none. At the water’s edge, she stood up to her ankles and felt her worries drain out into the wet sand. Warm foam tickled her legs. One thing she loved about the ocean was its ability to always soothe her. Calm water, choppy water, cold water, warm water. All liquid forms of salvation.

  * * *

  Old horse blankets now hung over her bedroom, bathroom and kitchen windows, so Daisy was able to turn on the light and cook dinner and take showers at night. It had taken her a while to nail them down so not one speck of light escaped. Living on the beach on the north side of O‘ahu, she didn’t want to be responsible for guiding any enemy planes ashore. She’d left the living room windows alone, unable to cover the view of the ocean and the jalousie windows that let the breeze wash through the house. Most of the time, she now slept in the living room with the baseball bat and shotgun by her side.

  Loneliness moved in at night, sending roots down through the floorboards and into the soil beneath the house. As poor a companion as Louise had been, her presence was a trusty backdrop. Another soul, always around. The world felt strangely void with her mother away.

  Without fail, every morning, Mr. Macadangdang’s roosters woke Daisy up at four ten on the nose. Today was no different. She rolled over and looked out the big window. The darkness was absolute. No stars, no moon, no sky. How would they make it to town in the dark without headlights? She hadn’t thought about that yesterday. Civilians were not to be out on the roads unless they were on official business, so she was lucky to ride with Walker. You had to be ready to show your identification card if stopped. And the threat of being shot was still a reality. Following the rules was now essential.

  After looking through her wardrobe, Daisy realized her mother had never hemmed her other skirt. So all she had were pants. None of the women had worn pants yesterday and she could bet that none of them would be caught dead wearing pants today, or ever. Well, too bad, Daisy had nothing else to wear. She picked out a red-checkered blouse to go with her slacks, but she looked too much like a sailor or a barmaid. Instead, she opted for a green-and-yellow floral top that highlighted the gold in her hair.

  Before all of this happened, in the mornings, after a quick dip in the ocean, she got dressed without a care in the world. Horses didn’t mind whether you were in a dress or a burlap sack. Slacks, button-up work shirt and a shake of her head. Cutting her hair short had been one of the more liberating things she’d done in her life. Poor Louise had cried when Daisy came out of the bathroom, scissors still in hand, mounds of hair on the floor. She had been sixteen.

  “This is all because of that damn Amelia Earhart woman, isn’t it?”

  That December, the whole island had been abuzz about the lady pilot who had arrived on the SS Lurline with her own airplane. Rumors swirled that she was going to attempt a solo flight to California, though she neither confirmed nor denied them. Instead, she paraded around the islands on her own terms. Daisy had listened to her radio broadcast from the University of Hawai‘i, and had been instantly drawn in. A woman who made her own rules. On January 11, when the paper announced her takeoff time would be 4:40 a.m. and she was really doing it, Daisy listened to her reports from across the Pacific every half hour that “everything is okay.” She suddenly had a new hero, a woman to look up to.

  When Walker rolled in, Daisy was waiting in the dark, tracing constellations with her eyes. All clouds had cleared the sky and stars shone like tiny fireflies. The upper two-thirds of his headlights had been covered over, dimming them to small slits. A small swath of hazy light shone out. She dashed over and opened the back door.

  He surprised her by saying, “Peg is home sick, why don’t you sit up front?”

  Her mind raced to find a solution. Maybe she should tell him she had come down with a god-awful stomach bug. Or that she had found another ride later on, so she wouldn’t have to wait so long at the Palace. But then she’d be stuck here and in grave trouble for not showing up for duty.

  “If you insist,” she said.

  Inside the car, she pulled her sweater tight around her. The morning had a chill to it and now she felt even colder. Being around Walker tended to blank out her thoughts, and now was no different. She sat there like a mute fish, every now and then opening her mouth to say something but nothing came out. Soon, her cheeks started heating up, then her neck, and then the backs of her arms.

  “Do you have the heater on?” she finally asked.
<
br />   “No, do you want it on?”

  Maybe she was coming down with something. “That would be nice, thank you. So what’s the matter with Peg?” she asked.

  “A bad bout of asthma. Every time she tried to stand, her lungs seized and she turned blue in the face.”

  Daisy frowned. “How awful. Is there something she can take?”

  “She inhales Adrenalin, but it turns her a bit wild and then she sleeps for a whole day.”

  “Has she always had it?”

  “Always. It gets worse when she’s nervous.”

  Daisy was glad she didn’t have asthma, or she’d likely be on the floor right now, dead. “I’m sure the war doesn’t help matters. And this new job.”

  “And the test. I know she was worried about the test.”

  She turned to him. “Really? She seems so self-assured.”

  “My sister comes across that way, but inside she’s just like the rest of us,” he said.

  Just like the rest of us? Did he honestly think that he was anything like Daisy or the plantation workers or most of the population of O‘ahu? Him with all his money and good looks and family name?

  “I don’t blame her for being nervous. There’s a lot to be worried about right now, the test being the least of it,” she said.

  “You can say that again.”

  They were driving at half the speed of yesterday, but still too fast for comfort in the dark. If there was a cow or a dog in the road, surely he wouldn’t see it in time. Daisy stared into the dark, wishing they had this new radar affixed to the car. But no one else was on the road, which helped. Every so often, Daisy caught a whiff of fresh-squeezed citrus mixed with spice. The smell was not entirely unfamiliar, and she realized it reminded her of the stables, along with the smell of horse and woodsy-sweet kiawe pods. She had never attributed this particular scent to Walker, but looking back, he belonged to the stables. Most days of late, he was there, either riding or grooming or working. His cowboy hats hung in a row in the tack room, and his boots lined one corner of the wall. She had always moved around him, mostly invisible, mostly intimidated. And now, his smell was taking her right back. Lord how she wanted to lean up against any of those horses, press an ear to their warm sides and listen to their breathing.

  As they passed Wheeler Field, small breaks of light were visible. Workers on the island were repairing aircraft and rebuilding on round-the-clock shifts. Over the Pontiac’s motor, they could hear the sound of plane engines revving. Pretty soon, Walker’s left leg started bouncing up and down like it had a mind of its own. Daisy could feel his tension clear over in her seat. She knew she ought to say something, but had no idea what to say. She thought back to her own time of loss.

  “It must be hard on you,” she managed.

  He didn’t answer for a solid minute, just kept driving, chewing his gum and tapping his leg wildly. A light, misty rain dotted the windshield and Daisy rolled up her window. Walker kept his down, and leaned out so his face caught the rain, then he slicked back his hair.

  “I lost some of my best buddies up there. We were caught with our pants down, you know? Most of those men never even had a chance. They left families behind, wives, daughters, sons, fathers.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Nothing will ever be the same,” he finally said.

  Daisy knew the feeling. “No, it won’t.”

  They chewed on that for a while. Daisy remembered back to the day she found out about her father. They had just had a big Kona storm and the beach was littered in flotsam. She was out digging through driftwood and giant ropes from ships, hoping to find a few Japanese glass fishing balls to add to her growing collection. Out of the side of her eye, she caught a form standing at the edge of the yard looking out to sea. Right away, Daisy knew something was off. Maybe it was the way her mother sagged, as though her spirit had bled out into the sand. When Daisy approached Louise, she could feel her pain from several feet away. A cloud of anguish as real as an ironwood tree. Your father is dead. That cloud had never left her mother, and with Daisy it ebbed and flowed with the passage of time. She could still be fine one minute, and be in tears the next. Grief did that to a person.

  Coming down the hill toward Pearl Harbor, Daisy was thankful for the darkness. Seeing the mangled ships and blackened buildings was enough to split your heart. It was not what Walker needed right now, that much she knew. He had the radio tuned to KGU, and they were listening to staticky Hawaiian music at top volume. It was better than the alternative.

  On several occasions, she felt a pressure to say something smart. Something that would distract him from reliving that morning over and over in his head. She knew that drill all too well. But in the end, she kept her mouth shut. Conversation with Daisy Wilder was sure to be low on his priority list. Nothing she could say would matter.

  A few blocks from the Palace, he turned the radio down and said, “Want to know a secret?”

  Had she heard him correctly? “Excuse me?”

  He slowed the car. “There’s a secret to taking tests. You want to know what it is?”

  “Well, sure, why not?”

  “Go with your gut and never second-guess yourself. As soon as you read the question, whatever the first thing that comes to mind is, go with that. Works like a charm,” he said, tapping his temple with two fingers.

  He seemed so cocksure. “That might be easy for you to say, since I’m sure you did well in school and you’re probably book smart. But I left school halfway through my tenth-grade year, and even then my teachers had long given up on me.”

  The worst was Mrs. Severson with her pointy glasses and smoker’s breath. She had once asked Daisy why she even bothered coming to school. Some folks just aren’t cut out for learning, and you’re one of them.

  “There are so many ways to be smart, and doing well in school is only one of them. This test will be different. It’ll be more about how you think than what you know, I can almost guarantee it,” he said.

  “How would you know that?”

  “I’ve taken my share of military tests, trust me.”

  A tiny spark of hope lit in her chest. “Really?”

  “I’ve seen what you do with the horses. How you can make even the most stubborn animal eat right out of your hand. It’s a kind of genius.”

  The word genius had never been used in the same breath as her name. A blush ran up her neck. They rolled to a stop in front of the Palace. She felt a kind of victory for having survived the ride in without making a fool of herself. And he’d not even brought up Moon.

  “When you grow up with horses, it comes naturally,” she said, reaching for the door handle.

  “I’ve grown up around horses and I could never have the effect that you do.”

  Something about the way he said it made her turn. In the dim light, their eyes met. She could have sworn his lips were turned up in a smile. Her heart melted just a little. Then, he gave her a small punch in the shoulder. “Now go kick some ‘¯okole.”

  * * *

  Despite the blatant staring and mumbles about her pants. Despite the fact that she had left the house without eating breakfast and now her stomach wouldn’t stop growling. Even despite the intelligence test scheduled for 1100 hours, Daisy felt giddy. It was an unusual feeling, like a school of fish swimming round and round in her chest, tails brushing up against the wall of her heart. Her mind kept returning to that look in Walker’s eye.

  When training started, Daisy made sure to sit away from a headset, to give other girls a chance at speaking with the Oscars and plotting aircraft on the board. Fluff was next to her, and after eyeing Daisy up and down, said, “I wish I could look so sporty.”

  Daisy looked around to make sure Fluff wasn’t speaking to someone else. “I train horses, so pants make sense to me.”

  “You remind me of one of those fashion models who could g
et away with wearing a square piece of burlap and still look good.”

  Daisy laughed. “You’re funny.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Most people usually tell me I look like a man in these.”

  “I don’t think so at all. Women brave enough to wear pants always impress me. It’s like you have a special brand of confidence.”

  “More like practicality.”

  Fluff smiled sweetly. “Just take it as a compliment.”

  They fell back in where they left off, fielding calls from Oscars and placing arrows on the board. All the women got a chance, and some seemed to have a knack for it, while others took a lot longer. At 1000 hours, General Danielson arrived with the intelligence tests in hand. Daisy thought of Walker’s advice, wishing she could have an extra helping of his confidence.

  The paper smelled like fresh ink. As soon as she read the first question, she knew she was in trouble. Who was Marie Curie? She knew the name, but could not for the life of her remember what Marie Curie was known for. When that was done, she then moved on to a section that made a lot more sense, and had her answering practical questions. After that it was rearranging sentences, and she reminded herself to go with your first thought. She saved the math for last, because math was the one thing that came easily to her.

  As time went on, others began to set down their pencils and hand in their tests. Daisy tried to tune them out, but the scratching of chairs on the cold linoleum was distracting. And she needed focus. She took a few deep breaths and thought of the ocean and the blue silence of the beach. It had been years since she had done math homework, but once she got sucked in, the problems began to work themselves out in a logical manner. When she finally set down her pencil, she was spent.

  Lunch was delivered by two older women in Red Cross dresses. Egg salad sandwiches, with crunchy pickles and a tangy potato salad. Daisy wasn’t used to being served lunch. She usually filled her tin with rice and dried fish and poi and ate under an ironwood tree near the beach, alone. The women were chattering like a flock of sparrows in the morning. She was squished between Betty and Fluff.