She had been bugging them all morning to swing into one of the radar sites along the way.
“You don’t think they’ll wonder why Nixon or Major Oscar wouldn’t have warned them? And we aren’t in uniform,” Betty said.
“They won’t care. They’ll just be thrilled to meet us.”
“How will we even find it?” Daisy said, though to be honest, she had a pretty good idea where it was.
“There’s got to be a road,” Lei said.
Betty sighed. “Just to get you to shut up, let’s go.”
After several wrong attempts, they turned up a dirt road cut diagonally into the side of a low cliff. Once they reached the top, and headed inland through dense foliage, they could see the tip of the antenna of the SCR-270 mobile unit above the trees.
“Would you look at that?” Fluff said affectionately.
It would be nice to see the station in real life. In speaking with the Oscars all day, you couldn’t help but be curious about their location. More often than not, they’d be cursing the rain or the heat, but once in a while, one would mention the huge surf or a breaching whale, spotted out front. Ironwood trees lined a gulch on one side of the road, and around a corner, a gate came into view. Two armed guards stood in the road with rifles pointed at the car.
“Uh-oh,” Fluff said.
Betty said, “Get your badges ready, and let me do the talking.”
They rolled to a stop six feet from the men, with Lei waving her white scarf. “I’m not in the mood to get shot today.”
“Oh please, they aren’t going to shoot us,” Fluff said.
The men approached both sides of the car. The one on Daisy’s side looked about fourteen, with a thin layer of peach fuzz on his chin. “This is a US military installation. What’s your business here?” he said.
Betty held up her badge. “We’re from Shafter, part of the Air Raid Defense at Little Robert. We work under General Danielson and Colonel Nixon.”
He motioned toward Lei. “What’s with the Jap in the car?”
“She works with us. And she happens to be Chinese, not Japanese,” Daisy said, annoyed at his ignorance.
“You sure about that?”
“Very,” Lei said.
The two men exchanged glances. “This some kind of practical joke?”
“We’re all officers with the Signal Aircraft Warning Regiment. Go on, have a look at my badge,” Betty said, handing it over.
He studied the badge as though it were written in Japanese, then tossed it over the car to his buddy. “Looks real to me. What do you think?” he said.
The rest of them handed their badges over. The fourteen-year-old looked at the badges, then ducked down so he could see each woman in the car, then stared at the badges again. He seemed to be trying to come to terms with the fact that the car full of women might in fact be a car full of officers. Red creeped up his neck.
Betty offered a suggestion. “When you let us in, the Oscars will vouch for us. They know us.”
That was a stretch. They might know their voices, though. Some spoke in smooth drawls, others clipped radio lingo, while a few New England boys omitted their Rs altogether. Niner came out ninah. With those, you always had to ask them to say again to be on the safe side.
Still unconvinced, fourteen said, “You all look like you’re on a Sunday outing. Why are you here, really? One of your husbands must have put you up to this.”
Daisy read his name tag. “Private Hicks, do you know the army’s penalty for disregarding a direct order from a superior officer?” she asked.
He frowned. “Court-martial.”
“Do you want to be court-martialed?”
“No, ma’am.” His voice had risen an octave.
“Then please let us through,” Betty said.
He looked at his friend, who shrugged, then without another word, opened the gate.
Once they passed, Fluff burst into laughter. “You gals were brilliant! Those poor fellas stood no chance against you.”
Daisy said, “Now what? We just waltz up and ask them for a tour? Don’t forget there’s a war going on.” In her mind, this whole detour was not the smartest idea, and she had a feeling Nixon would not approve.
“I for one am not going to stop living just because there is a war going on. What good will that do anyone? You want to just sit in our house all day listening to the depressing news on the radio and twiddling our thumbs?”
“No!” was the unanimous response.
But there was an element of guilt that went along with enjoying yourself when a large portion of the world was suffering.
Fluff continued. “We deserve to be here. Consider it research to become better WARDs. Plus, these poor Oscars are stranded out here all day at the end of the earth. They could use a morale boost.”
No one could argue with that. The unpaved road paralleled the cliff, and grew more rutted by the inch. Bodies flew in the air more than a few times, and a film of red dirt coated the windshield. Though Daisy had never been up here, the iron-rich soil prevalent on this side of the island made her feel right at home. Pretty soon they came to a circular clearing with a 180-degree view of the ocean. Two hulking military trucks were parked on one side, a canvas teepee-style tent on another, and the antenna trailer sat in the middle. All dirt, no grass.
“This is the station?” Fluff asked.
Daisy knew what she meant. The only impressive part was the antenna, which stood taller than a coconut tree. A head poked out from the side of the truck. Then another.
Betty jumped out and held up her badge. “Hello! We’re Rascals from Little Robert, touring the radar sites.”
“Well, I’ll be...” one of the men said.
They were invited into the crude station, which felt more like the inside of a furnace, heated by the noonday tropical sun. Stripes of perspiration creased the men’s uniforms and they all looked like they’d be better off in swim trunks. There were five of them in the cramped truck, which turned out to be the operations room. The other truck provided power.
“Welcome to the club. Best view on the island, if you don’t mind centipedes in your bed and dirt in your oatmeal. They set us up here the day after the attack, round the clock, and it’s been nothing but pleasure,” said Bobby Ortiz, whose lightly accented voice sounded familiar.
“Things could be far worse, soldier,” Betty said.
He grinned. “Oh, I’m not complaining. Just giving you a flavor of what it’s like here. I’m the shift chief. Can I show you the ropes?” he asked, eyes settling on Daisy.
“Sure, we’d like that.”
He lovingly pointed out an impressive array of equipment. The receiver, receiver trombone, spare receiver, spare parts kit, azimuth speed controls and the oscilloscope, which was where the signals came across on the screen.
“Oscilloscope. What a mouthful. I’ll bet you can’t say it five times in a row,” Fluff mumbled to Daisy under her breath.
If Ortiz heard her, he didn’t let on. “This baby is the star of the show—well, this and Big Bertha out there,” he said, nodding toward the antenna.
He then picked up a pair of binoculars and handed them to Daisy. “We use these to read the azimuth angle, which is painted on the antenna turntable. Have a look.”
Why was she always chosen to go first? A part of her wondered if her short hair and slacks had anything to do with it. That in their eyes, she was somehow more like a man. As if hair and clothing had anything to do with it.
“How tall is that thing?” Lei asked.
“Fifty-five feet. Nine dipole elements high, by four wide.”
“What happens when it’s windy?”
“So far so good. We haven’t had to take her down yet. Last thing we need is another fuckup—” His hand went to his mouth. “Pardon my language. I’m not used to having ladies ar
ound.”
Fluff waved it off. “We’re used to it by now.”
The antenna made one revolution per minute. They passed around the binoculars and listened to Ortiz expound on a lot of technical jargon, much of which went over their heads. Daisy was touched that he thought them important enough to share all this with. On top of being handsome and personable, the man knew his radar. After being there for well over an hour, and taking a few photographs with the crew, the girls finally tore themselves away.
They all considered the day a big success. Meeting Archie at the racetrack, the friendly team at the Opana radar site—once they’d gotten past the gate—and later, picnicking together in the shade of a m¯amane tree, nibbling on crustless egg salad sandwiches, saloon pilot crackers and chunks of pineapple. There was something to be said for a day of fresh air and friendship.
14
THE THIEF
Two minutes into their shift, Daisy felt a tap on her shoulder. Fully expecting it to be one of the girls, she flung the hand away. She was working on a range arc calculation.
“I’m busy,” she said.
But it was not one of the girls. It was Nixon, a dark look in his eye. “In my office, Wilder.” On the balcony, Dunn and Major Oscar avoided eye contact, suddenly very involved in their notes. The girls, however, all stared as they passed. Nixon slammed the wooden door shut and went to sit behind a large desk piled high with manila folders and coffee-stained books. Daisy remained standing. “I heard about your little joyride yesterday. Did you know I can charge you ladies with unauthorized entry of a military installation?” he said.
Oh boy. She knew it had been a dumb idea. But why was she the only one in trouble? “No, I didn’t, sir. You must mean our visit to Opana.”
“Damn right.”
A plum pit formed in her throat. Her legs trembled. Being in trouble was nothing new, but Nixon intimidated her on a whole new level. He was school principal, boss, policeman and judge all rolled into one. Not only could he fire her, he could put her in jail, or the brig or whatever it was the military called it.
“There was no bad intent on our part. We were passing by and thought it would be a good idea to see the site firsthand, to get a better understanding of what we’re dealing with.”
“Passing by? You just happened to be driving along in the most remote section of the island?”
“We were on a mission, sir.”
“If you were on a mission, you don’t think I’d know about it? Nor do we send the WARDs on missions.”
She told him about Moon and their hunt for information. A person with a heart would understand. But the jury was still out with Nixon. When she finished, he stretched and folded his arms behind his head, leaning back in the chair and looking out the tiny window. An awkward silence filled the room. Daisy noticed a framed photo of him with a sunny-faced blonde woman. Anyone could see that they were young and in love. They were both smiling. She at the camera, and Nixon at his lovely wife. She wondered how he’d lost her.
“Sir, if you don’t mind my asking, why am I the only one in here?” she asked, figuring there was nothing to lose at this point.
“That’s easy. Because the man I spoke to couldn’t remember any of your names, but he said one of you was six feet tall and wearing pants. I’m guessing you were also with Fluffy and Yates and Davis. Am I right?”
Daisy held back a laugh. “It’s Fluff.”
“Fluff, Fluffy, I don’t care. How can anyone be taken seriously with a name like that?”
His utter refusal to give any of them a chance was growing tiresome. “Have you ever bothered to have a conversation with the woman? I think that if you did, it might answer your question. She’s intelligent and curious and kind.”
An imperceptible flare of his nostrils told her all she needed to know. Well, too damn bad. Fluff was about the sweetest, most bighearted girl Daisy knew. She deserved better. Nixon made a note in the black wire notebook he carried everywhere, then said, “Let me remind you that this is not a sorority. This is the United States Army. Have you forgotten why you’re here?”
“No, sir.”
“Not for fun and games and definitely not to fraternize with the boys.”
The insinuation shocked her. “You think we went there to fraternize? Would you like to know what I learned while at Opana?” He didn’t answer, so she took the liberty of continuing. “Ortiz explained every piece of equipment in the K-30 down to the high-voltage rectifier. We now know that their antenna has very high gain, and the more gain, the stronger the shout and more sensitive the listen. We got a visual of the oscilloscope and a firsthand account of how the sweep signal passes through a calibrated phase shifter. He even let us turn the large hand wheel on the front panel so we could get an accurate measure of delay between transmitted and received pulses. It’s through the trombone—”
“That’s enough, Wilder,” he said with a flip of his hand. “You’re dismissed.”
The word almost knocked her over. From the room or the army? “Dismissed?”
“Get back to work and stay out of trouble.”
Trouble had a way of following her around these days, but she wasn’t telling him that.
* * *
In the coming weeks, Daisy worked harder than ever to learn the required calculations to be promoted to filterer. She kept her head in the game and ignored all distractions—Nixon and his permanent frown, Thelma prancing around like a peacock, Peg dropping veiled insults almost daily, along with various other trainings that came up unexpectedly. Like how to carry a litter, or Morse code. For someone obsessed with code names, poor Fluff struggled with Morse, and Daisy had to work overtime to help her.
In the evenings, Betty showed them the proper way to make grits, how to fry your okra so it was just the right amount of crispy, and the secrets to New Orleans biscuits and gravy. Only problem was, Southern food loved its butter, which was damn near impossible to come by. Every so often, Lei would bring some over and Betty kept it under lock and key, rationing it out sparingly.
Radio and newspaper reports included nothing about the Enterprise or her mission, and the waiting was growing harder by the day. Daisy thought about Walker constantly, though she rarely spoke about him, and she could only imagine how Betty must be feeling. “This here is the problem with being in love. All anyone talks about is how love makes the world go round, but love also contains a big helping of pain and misery. When the party in question is taken away from you, for one,” Betty said one night over hush puppies and pulled pork.
“Still, I’d rather be in love than not in love,” Fluff argued.
“It’s like a fever, rattling my bones—” Betty lowered her voice to a whisper “—and I’m afraid of what will happen if Chuck doesn’t come back.”
Fluff reached over and grabbed Betty’s hand. “He is coming back. No ifs, ands or buts. Come on, let’s pray,” she said, grabbing Daisy’s hand, too. Daisy was thankful that Fluff knew what to say, because she was at a loss for words. “Dear Lord, we pray that you look out for our loved ones out there fighting. That you hold them in your light and keep them safe from all harm. Please give them courage to face the challenges and fill them with the strength of a thousand men. In case you need to know, we’re praying for two in particular, Chuck Yates and Walker Montgomery. Please bring them home alive, Lord. Amen.”
Daisy noticed more blond hair in the shower drain, and sometimes she would hear Betty making tea in the middle of the night. Part of the problem was the eerie stillness that came over the house at three o’clock in the morning. That was enough to keep anyone up. How she missed the liquid sounds of the ocean. The one good thing about sleeping at Shafter was that Walker the cat—renamed Blanche once they realized she was female—made her rounds between the three beds each night. Black with white socks and a pink nose, she livened up the house with her feline spunk. In fact it soon became appare
nt that Blanche could chase her own tail for a good half hour.
“That cat is onto something. We should all learn to be so self-sufficient,” Fluff said.
“Her brain is the size of a peanut,” Betty said.
Daisy stuck up for Blanche. “Animals are smarter than we think. I wouldn’t discount her.”
“As long as she snuggles with me, I really don’t care,” Betty said.
Though the shifts were only six hours, working at Little Robert was draining. All that focus and the continuous pressure not to make mistakes. Nixon hovered, and since the visit to Opana, Daisy was extra careful not to draw attention to herself. Tension coated the walls and the tabletops, and everyone was still on edge about the next attack. None of the men spoke it out loud, but you could tell some of them lacked faith in the WARDs. An offhand comment here, roll of the eyes there.
One afternoon, Fluff seemed particularly pensive on the way home. “Does Lieutenant Dunn flirt with any of you?”
“Nope. I made it clear from day one I’m not open for business,” Betty said.
“Me neither. But I see how he is around you,” Daisy said.
Fluff seemed buoyed by the news. “I get the feeling he likes me, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. On the one hand, he’s handsome and charming, but on the other, he might be a little old for me. What do you think?”
Daisy thought Fluff was being too generous in her assessment of the man. His overabundance of touching was enough to raise suspicion. That and the fact that Fluff was not the only one he flirted with. The way he prowled the control room reminded her of the roosters walking the dusty streets of Hale‘iwa.
“Stay away from that one, honey. He’s a BTO,” Betty said.
“A BTO?”
“A big-time operator.”
Daisy nodded. “I second that.”
“Goodness, you two are harsh critics. He’s been nothing but sweet to me since day one. At least he smiles and has complimentary things to say.”
Radar Girls Page 14
