Fluff grinned so wide, a new dimple showed in one cheek. “My lips are a bit raw. But you should know that he was a perfect gentleman. I felt safe and respected and adored. How’s that for a winning combination?”
“We could definitely use more Cheerios in the world,” Daisy acknowledged.
“Oh, and guess what his real name is?”
“What?”
“Elmer.”
“I think I’ll stick to Cheerio,” Daisy said.
“Me, too.”
By all accounts, tomorrow would be a big day and the girls had to report in at 0400. Daisy was bushed and ready to crawl into bed, but Betty insisted they listen to a few minutes of Radio Tokyo. “Lili Marlene” was playing when they flipped it on.
Fluff groaned. “If I hear this song one more time, I’m throwing that radio out the window.”
“You know what Axis Sally always says, ‘Your husbands and sons just love it so much.’ As if she has any idea,” Betty said, shaking her head.
Orphan Ann crackled on when the song ended and in her teasing way, said, “Well, you boys fighting out there in the Pacific, that one was for you. We’ll be waiting for you tomorrow, so be ready to get annihilated. Sea level is going to rise around that tiny rock you’re protecting.”
“Good Lord!” said Daisy, feeling light-headed at the words.
Whoever supplied Ann with intelligence knew their stuff. But they mixed in enough outlandish claims that you never knew what to believe. Just last week, she announced that the West Coast had been invaded and Japanese forces had made it all the way to Oklahoma.
“Now, for all you people wanting to hear word from your boys, we have two here tonight who have something to say. They’re looking strong and feeling good!”
Betty turned up the radio and they all leaned in.
A monotonous man’s voice came on. “I’m Bill Godfrey and I wish to say hello to my folks back home. My health is good, no major illnesses so far. Please send bar chocolate, cigarettes and playing cards to help pass the time. Say hello to Joey and Linda and tell them I hope to see them again soon. I know you’re worried about me, but I hope hearing this message will lighten your heart. Love to all.”
Even though they all sounded the same, it was hard not to get teary-eyed when you heard these men speak. The empty-tin-can tone in their voices spoke far more than the scripted words.
Ann came on again. “And here’s our next guest.”
“Ha. Guest,” Fluff said.
The second he started speaking, Betty turned milk white and started shaking.
“This is Charles Yates, airman stationed in Honolulu, Hawai‘i. Hello, Mom and Dad and Betty. I sure miss you and I’m hoping you are all well and healthy. We’re holding up and getting fresh air. You don’t need to worry, they’re treating us just fine. Please send photographs and hold me in your prayers. All my love.”
The message was over before they knew it, and Orphan Ann came back on reading a message from another prisoner of war not in the station. They heard none of it. Betty looked to be having a hard time breathing, and Daisy jumped up and grabbed a glass of water. Fluff was rubbing her back, saying, “There, there. Honey, Chuck’s alive!”
Betty lay her head onto the cool tabletop and her whole body shuddered. “I know, but for how long?” she said.
Daisy felt her own tears rise up. “This is the best news we’ve had since the war started. Let’s focus on the alive part. Remember what we talked about? Alive means hope.”
In between sobs, Betty said, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.”
“Feel it all. Happy, scared, relieved,” Daisy said.
Betty lifted her head, her whole face smeared in tears. “All this propaganda crap means nothing. I don’t believe they’re treating him well. You ask me, he’s probably eating dirt and being beaten half to death.”
They’d heard enough to know this was possible. Or even likely.
“We can’t think about that,” Fluff said.
“I know Chuck’s voice. This was a hollow, broken version of him,” Betty said, then started laughing through the tears. “But he’s alive. My baby is alive.”
Daisy knew there was no one correct way to behave when you found out a loved one was a prisoner of war, so they let Betty cycle through the gamut, sobbing one minute and on her knees thanking God the next. After a time, when her breathing had settled, she asked, “I need to get him back. How can we get him back?”
The pleading in her voice cut straight to Daisy’s heart. “I don’t know, but we will. At this very moment, our boys are bombing the crap out of the Japanese Navy. No way will we let them gain control of Midway or get close to Hawai‘i. They’ve already lost the war. They just don’t know it yet,” she said, with full faith.
Fluff bobbed her head. “I agree. My money’s on us—all ten dollars of it.”
Betty wiped her face with a dish towel and let out a long sigh. Just then, Blanche wandered in with several kittens in tow. Jumping onto the table, she nudged her head into Betty’s hand.
“You know you’re not allowed up here,” Betty said, stroking her shiny black fur. “But I’ll let you get away with it just this once.”
When she smiled, there was a light in her big brown eyes that had been missing for months. They moved to the living room and sat let the news sink in for a while longer. Daisy eventually fell asleep on the pune‘e with Blanche curled up against her side, purring like an outboard motor. She dreamed of giant swells and sinking ships, and a sky full of Japanese aircraft raining fire upon Honolulu.
* * *
Though it was ink black and blustery outside, Lizard was brightly lit and brimming with people. The WARDs on shift looked exhausted, but instead of leaving as they normally would, they shuffled down the hallway to the lounge, where cots had been set up between the couches for naps. Fluff was immediately called into the radio room, while Daisy moved between the main board and the filtering room.
Markers covered the map, with remaining surface craft and aircraft on high alert, and patrols circling all of the islands. Somber faces went about their business, waiting for word of the Japanese striking force. No more sightings had been reported at Midway. Daisy was thankful for Hochman, who brought them hot coffee and spoke in the same relaxed drawl that he always used.
At 0800, Fluff tore into the room and went straight to Nixon, a paper in hand. Nixon had been on his secure line much of the morning. He read the paper, then spoke to the room. “Enemy carriers, 180 miles from Midway. And planes, too. May heaven help our boys.”
Please, God, let them come back alive. Every single one of them.
Midway was three hours behind Hawai‘i. Daisy could picture a pale predawn sky humming with airplane engines, and the heavy splashing of ship hulls against the waves. Despite her prayer, she knew that many souls would be lost today. Tension rose as they waited for more news. When word came from Midway’s naval air station, it wasn’t good. Most of the fighters on the island were damaged and the power stations destroyed, but at least the runways were still intact. And still not a peep from the enemy, who had a talent for showing up unannounced.
The day progressed in a blur of watching Nixon’s face as he spoke on his secure line, plotting patrolling aircraft, hearing snippets from the radio boys and pilots, and generally being on tenterhooks. When they got word that Yorktown had been badly hit, the mood in the room reached a new low, only to drop further a couple of hours later when they heard she’d sunk. Daisy had been counting on the Japanese ships to be the ones sinking. Come on, boys, we’re counting on you!
Some of the people in the room had been there for over twenty-four hours. Nixon had a sheen on his face and dark pouches under his eyes, while Major Oscar’s face was wrinkled in that way when you just wake up from a too-short nap. The whole place smelled like fried chicken and cigarettes. Normally, smoking was pro
hibited, but rules had gone out the window. And the break room and hallway had become a rotating motel for sleeping women. All of their perfumes and body lotions mingled together to create one sweet and complicated scent of female humanity.
It was sunset hour, though you’d never know under all this rock, and Daisy was about to take her first real break of the day, when Fluff alerted everyone of a new call from Wai‘anae. “We have what looks like a line of bombers coming in, Cheerio says.”
The incoming aircraft had also shown up on Shafter’s radar, though again, with radio silence, no one could say for sure what they were. Their speed would indicate B-17 bombers, who had not yet returned from their mission to Midway. Major Oscar and the air force liaison had been pacing the floor waiting for them, so all eyes were on their course. After the third reading, Daisy noticed one of the planes had fallen behind and was veering south.
“Do you think there’s a problem, sir?” she asked Major Oscar.
“They’ll call in if there is.”
“And break silence?” No sooner had the words come out of Daisy’s mouth, than the UHF radio crackled to life.
“Honolulu, this is Bulldog 6 coming in from Midway. Do you read?”
Daisy, closest, picked up. “Five by five, Bulldog. We’ve got you.”
“How far out are we?”
“We have you ninety miles off of O‘ahu. You’re almost home!”
The connection cut out, then she heard, “...Low on fuel, not sure if we’re gonna make it.”
“How much do you have left?” Daisy asked.
His voice came across the airwaves all broken up. “We’re flying on fumes...extra weight...two injured men and a medic aboard...heading?” he said.
She glanced up at Major Oscar, and noticed Fluff standing by her side. A few of the other girls in the room had tuned in, too. “Turn left heading two seven zero. You’re a little off course,” she said, forcing a calm voice. “If you need to ditch, we know your location and will have rescue to you on the double. How many are you?”
“Thirteen. Roger. Stay with me, Rascal.”
The Flying Fortresses usually held ten men at most, and the extra weight would slow them down. Daisy wanted to ask him how it looked for America out there across the ocean, if any Japanese ships had been sunk and how many lives lost. But she knew she couldn’t, not over radio waves, which everyone knew the Japanese were listening in on. Just as the Allies were doing to them.
While Major Oscar went to consult with Nixon and call for a rescue vessel, Daisy checked the readings. The bomber had corrected course and was now seventy miles out.
Fluff spoke up. “You all know I’m not religious, but I think these boys deserve a prayer. What do y’all say?”
Everyone nodded.
Her voice was loud and clear. “Dearest Father in heaven. We have an urgent matter that needs your attention. This bomber has thirteen very important men on board who need to get home to see their loved ones. Would you please give them an extra helping of luck right now? We need them all in one piece. Amen.”
Short and sweet, and so Fluff. Amens bounced around the room, even from Nixon, who was now standing behind Daisy, his coffee breath wafting around her.
“Honolulu, I have a message for a Rascal named Wilder. Will you relay?”
A wave of panic hit her hard and she sat up taller. “You’re speaking to Wilder, sir.”
She heard muffled voices in the background and then the pilot came on. “We have a Lieutenant Montgomery aboard and he won’t shut up about you. He keeps mumbling that he needs to get back to see you, over.”
What was Walker doing aboard an air force bomber? There could be only one answer. “Is Lieutenant Montgomery badly injured?”
“He was shot up by a Zero and had a rough landing. Not gonna lie, he’s been in and out of consciousness. But he’s a fighter, and he’s damn persistent,” he said.
“Tell him that he needs to come back alive, and that’s an order. And tell him I will be waiting.” Then to the copilot, “Please, fly this bird home safely.”
A warm hand rested on her shoulder. She expected Major Oscar or Hochman, but it was Nixon. “Bulldog 6, this is Colonel Nixon. How’s the visibility out there?”
Daisy wished she could see the sky and watch for their plane with her own eyes, not some relayed radar reading. She looked at her watch. 1850.
“Heavy clouds. But glimpses of an orange sky.”
In summertime, the seas were calm and warm. If they ditched, at least they wouldn’t be ditching into giant swells and whiteout frigid conditions.
“Godspeed, boys,” Nixon said, heading back to the balcony to take a phone call.
Air felt scarce in the room. If the plane did not ditch, she’d be guiding them into a blacked-out airfield at Hickam, which was a whole other dicey matter. Hochman came over and asked if she was up to the task. “You bet, Major.”
Minutes crept by like molasses. Daisy watched the board and the plotting of the other flights. Of all planes, why did Walker have to be on this one? Her imagination began creating scenarios. If his injuries had not been that bad, they would not have risked flying him back to Hawai‘i, would they have? She wanted to ask more, but knew they had other problems to worry about. Betty, who had been plotting on the far side of the table, by Kahuku Point on the map, set down her stick and came over. For most of the day, she’d been shut away someplace in her own mind, though still functioning. Daisy had kept an eye on her, watching for signs of distress.
“At least they aren’t in enemy waters,” she said.
Like Chuck.
Enemy waters or not, Walker was injured. “But he’s already hurt. If they ditch, it could kill him,” Daisy said, feeling a tremor in her voice.
“Did they say what was wrong with him?”
“Just that he was shot up by a Zero and had a rough landing.”
“Get on that radio and ask them again,” Betty said.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not professional,” Daisy said.
“Figure out a way,” Betty said.
Just then, Fluff skidded back in on the cold linoleum, coming from the receiving room. “What’s happening?”
Daisy held up a finger. Fluff could wait. And she had an idea. “Bulldog 6, this is Honolulu. Come in, Bulldog 6.”
The now familiar voice came on right away. “Bulldog 6, read you five by five.”
“We need to ready the ambulance for your arrival. Please report on condition of injured, starting with Lieutenant Montgomery.”
Fluff’s eyes went wide.
“Montgomery took several bullets to the shoulder area, and lost a fair amount of blood. And we think he may have a collapsed lung.”
She felt pain in her shoulder and tightness in her chest. A wave of darkness rolled through her, but she mustered all her courage. She was simply not going to fall to pieces right now. “Have you dumped all ammunition, extra weight?”
“Affirmative.” They heard yelling in the background and a Goddamn it, and then, “Mayday, mayday, mayday. Bulldog 6 is ditching. I repeat, Bulldog 6 is ditching.”
Betty looked Daisy in the eye with such knowing that Daisy wanted to wrap her arms around Betty and squeeze, burying her face and shutting out the rest of the world. If anyone knew the feeling, it was Betty.
Instead, she yelled out to Hochman and Nixon, “Bulldog 6 is out of fuel, They’re ditching!”
The men scrambled over.
“Bulldog 6, what’s your altitude?” Betty asked.
“Angels one, zero. We have clear skies now, and Venus is bright as hell. Losing speed and altitude quickly. See you on the other side, Rascal. Bulldog, over and out,” he said before the receiver went dead.
If there was ever a time to get the correct location, it was now. Minutes could be t
he difference between Walker living or dying, and same with the rest of the men.
Daisy shoved her chair back, sprang up and ran to the filterer table. “We need to do a range cut on the latest readings for Bulldog 6, from both Shafter and Wai‘anae. They’re ditching!” she called to Thelma, knowing that the oscilloscope at Wai‘anae had its own peculiarities.
As she tried to make the calculations, her hand trembled. The plane’s true position would be where the range arcs intersected. Also, airspeed would be significantly slower. Daisy knew the glide ratio of a B-17 was about sixteen to one, so she had to account for that, as well.
Thelma came up and looked over her shoulder, smelling of gardenia. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Do I look okay?” Daisy shot back.
“What can I do to help?” Thelma said, sounding surprisingly genuine.
Daisy felt her throat bunch up. “Can you double-check these coordinates? I want to make sure I have them right.”
Thelma dragged her wooden folding chair over and sat a couple of inches away. “Take a deep breath, Daisy. They’re going to be all right.”
“Walker may have a collapsed lung, and to crash-land in his condition—” She paused, pulling herself together. “Wait, you’re right, and we are going to do everything in our power to see that plane in,” she said, a moment before the lead on her pencil snapped. “Damn!”
Peg was suddenly by her side too, her face white as chalk. She handed Daisy a pencil from her apron. “I heard my brother is aboard that flight, and he’s wounded.”
“Yes on both accounts.”
“How far out will they be when they land?”
“Nineteen miles, coming in at two-seven-eight degrees.”
“At least they’ll be close,” Peg said.
“It’s something,” Daisy said.
After passing the position directly to Nixon, who didn’t even bother to double-check it, Daisy collapsed into a chair under the clock. It was 0730. Fluff brought her a Coke and a Spam sandwich. “Here, you have to eat something.”
Radar Girls Page 27
