The thought of eating made her want to retch. She watched Betty, who was now guiding in the first bomber to Bellows Airfield. The planes had to clear the Ko‘olau Mountains before descending, and landing without running lights raised the level of danger exponentially. But Betty looked as cool and collected as an old hand.
Daisy recalled that first day in the Palace when no one had any idea what was in store for them. How they’d all fumbled answering those first calls. And how apprehensive and awkward she had felt, like the outsider she’d always been. Only to be swept in by Fluff and Betty and Lei, who could not have cared less about her slacks and boyish hair and general lack of refinement.
And Walker. Walker was the one who had more faith in her than anyone.
Damn you, Montgomery, keep breathing.
28
THE WAIT
They waited. And waited. There were more bodies crammed into Lizard than Daisy had ever seen. The other flights had landed safely, one at Bellows and one at Hickam, not far from where Fluff had fled from Dunn. An ambulance met the one at Hickam to transport a radio operator who had a nearly severed arm from flying shrapnel.
“He’s an Oscar, he’s one of us,” Fluff had said, and offered another personalized prayer for the man.
Daisy stayed glued to her chair, counting the seconds until the rescue pilot called in. She knew that in addition to surface craft, a submarine in the general vicinity and a PBM Mariner seaplane were being deployed. A Dumbo Mission, they called it. When the girls had asked Hochman why, he told them the old planes used to resemble flying elephants, with wooden life rafts attached under their wings. They would drop them for the survivors until ships arrived. Now, the ability to make water landings speeded things dramatically.
Wai‘anae called in the PBM, and the pilot radioed in a minute later. “Mariner 6 to Honolulu, we’ve got a low ceiling and heavy rain, over. Check my bearing, please.”
Nixon, who had been keeping a close eye on Daisy, mumbled shit under his breath. Low clouds and rain were not what they needed. Bulldog 6 had said it was clear, but weather in Hawai‘i had its own mind. At least the winds were light. Daisy corrected the Mariner’s heading by five degrees, working to keep her voice calm and steady. When she looked up, she saw that everyone in the room was focused on her. Peg looked as anxious as she did.
“You should reach them in approximately five minutes,” Daisy told him.
If all went well.
“It’s auspicious that both planes are number six,” Lei announced. “It’s considered a lucky number by the Chinese.”
“They haven’t been too lucky so far,” Daisy pointed out.
There were so many variables in a water landing. Weather, swell size and direction, visibility, type of aircraft, pilot skill and experience, and boatloads of luck. The women had rehearsed this exact scenario numerous times. Only not with Walker as one of the souls on board. It felt different now, so achingly personal and surreal. A good portion of Daisy’s heart was on that plane.
Hochman and Nixon paced behind the board, while Daisy sat perched on the edge of her seat. Phones were still ringing and coordinates marked. Bodies moved around her on the plotting table, but she scarcely noticed. When the next reading came in, it showed them slightly off where they ought to be.
“You’re too far north. Turn around and head one-three-zero. And hurry!” she told them in a commanding voice that didn’t sound like her own. Telling a pilot to hurry was not protocol, but she couldn’t help herself.
He seemed unfazed. “Roger, searchlights on, seas calm.”
Shining searchlights were a risk they had to take. There were no bogeys in the sky, so they had that going for them. The plane followed their standard search and rescue grid pattern. She looked at her watch. Nearly fifteen minutes had passed since the pilot first made contact. What was taking so long? She went over the calculations in her mind again. Had she somehow made a mistake? Nixon looked at her as though he might be thinking the same thing.
All of Lizard fell silent and she swore she smelled salt water and fuel. Heard the drone of an engine, dropping out of the sky, and the ensuing explosion. She shook her head, trying to clear the image.
Suddenly, the radio burst to life. “Honolulu, we’ve found them. Flare spotted and raft is intact. We’re going in for a landing. Will report back soon. Mariner 6, out.”
“Roger your last, Mariner 6, will do. Rascal, out.”
The whole room broke out in cheers. But they weren’t in the clear yet—at least Walker wasn’t. She took a swig of the warm Coke and kept her rear end on the hard seat. Betty and Fluff slid their chairs over, and Lei, Peg, Thelma and half the WARDs on shift huddled around them. Some of the men, too.
Daisy closed her eyes for a moment, and imagined the ocean at night—dark and silky and bottomless. Miles out at sea, there would be gentle rolling swells and the smell of salt surrounding you. Currents with logs and sticks and coconuts created long trails of debris. And the occasional shark. She hoped the lifeboat could hold all thirteen of them.
Fluff whispered into Daisy’s ear, “Have faith, honey.”
No matter what happened, Daisy felt held up by a kind of sisterhood that she never knew existed. She could feel the caring soaking into her skin like a soothing balm. Whenever her mind wandered to dark thoughts, all she had to do was look around at their faces.
And suddenly, Mariner 6 came through loud and clear. “Honolulu, this is Mariner 6. All souls alive and now on board with us. Injured men will need immediate medical attention upon arrival, over.”
Daisy sprung up and hugged the nearest person, who happened to be Nixon. His back was as solid as a fifty-pound bag of rice. When she pulled away, he was half crying, half laughing and wiping tears from his eyes.
“Goddamn it, they’re gonna make it,” he said. “Good filtering, Wilder.”
And then his mouth broke into a warm and dazzling smile, full of pride and approval and something fatherly that touched a place in Daisy buried for so long. All this time, she’d known that beneath the steel exterior, there was a heart inside there somewhere wanting to come out. The plane was to arrive at Hickam. As soon as they heard this, Daisy asked Nixon, “Sir, may I be excused from duty?”
“Get the heck out of here, Wilder.” He nodded toward the door. “And take backup.”
“Thank you, Colonel.”
She nearly yanked Fluff’s arm off. “Come on, we’re going.”
“We can’t just leave.”
“We’re cleared.”
At the door, they heard footsteps behind them. “Can I come with you?” Peg asked, her pale face dusted with red blotches.
Fluff glanced at Daisy, who nodded. “Of course,” she said.
Fortunately, Tripler Hospital was not a far walk from Lizard. Halfway there, they heard the whine of an airplane engine in the distance.
“It has to be them,” Daisy said, picking up the pace.
It felt good to breathe the fresh evening air into her lungs. A mixture of night-blooming jasmine and mock orange. Once their eyes adjusted, they navigated by spotty moonlight to Palm Circle. None of them said much. There was nothing to say. A singular unspoken sentiment surrounded them all.
Tripler was nothing fancy, just a two-story wooden building that looked more like an oversize plantation house than a hospital. They sank down on a grassy mound out front and waited for the ambulance.
“Cheerio said that the doctors here are top-notch. They patched up a few of his buddies like new. Lord knows, they’ve been through the wringer,” Fluff told them. “And my friend Beatrice on staff here says they’ve become masters at reattaching limbs.”
The thought gave Daisy chills. “How about fixing lungs?”
“I’m sure they’re good at that, too.”
Though none of them had any idea how one fixed a collapsed lung. Before long, they heard a siren drawing clo
ser and closer. Shouldn’t there be two? If Fluff and Peg were wondering the same thing, neither said anything. The thought sent Daisy into a cold fury and she felt like Moon had on that fateful day in December, wild with fear and ready to bolt. Instead, they went inside and checked in at the nurses’ station. Someone had already called in the emergency, and nurse Gina Hayes informed them, “We’re ready for him.”
Fluff corrected her, “There are two of them.”
Gina looked up from her clipboard. “There’s only one. The other is going to the morgue. I’m so sorry.”
Daisy’s knees almost buckled. “Do you know which one?”
“All I know is the surgical team is scrubbing up and they’ve called in some kind of specialist from Honolulu.”
Fluff led Daisy to a chair, and Peg sat down next to her, lip quivering. Daisy reached out and grabbed her small, cold hand. No matter what bad blood had gone on between the two of them, she knew how much Peg adored her older brother. This small gesture was the least she could do, especially since she was unable to form any words.
When the ambulance drove up, they all stood and went to the door. The blackout curtain hung heavy and black between them and the answer Daisy awaited. Men’s voices carried in. A door slamming. A man backed in, carrying a litter. She looked down at the face. Arched eyebrows. Dark five-o’clock shadow. And then she fainted.
29
THE PATIENT
Daisy opened her eyes. Fluff and Peg and another woman in a nurse’s uniform she didn’t recognize all stared down at her with pinched faces. The light above them was blinding and Daisy closed her eyes again.
“Where’s Walker?” she asked.
“Walker is in the emergency room. He’s in good hands,” Fluff said. “Sweetie, we need to take care of you right now.”
“I’m fine.”
The nurse said, “You just fainted, which tells me you’re not fine. Have you fainted before?”
Her mind felt fuzzy. “Never. Excuse me but I need to see Walker. Did you talk to him?”
Peg and Fluff exchanged a look.
“What?”
“They were in a big hurry and we didn’t want to get in their way, or excite him,” Peg said. “And it looks like he has more injuries than just a punctured lung.”
Daisy didn’t want to know. “He’s made it this far. Isn’t that a good sign?”
They all nodded in agreement.
The nurse felt around on Daisy’s wrist for a pulse, seemingly unable to find it. “Have you eaten anything today?”
Fluff answered for her. “I saw her eat a banana this morning, but once we got to work, the day went by in a blur. I can also guarantee that she’s had enough coffee and Coca-Cola to send her to the moon and back. Isn’t that right?”
Daisy nodded.
“What exactly is it that you ladies do?” the nurse asked, eyeing their uniforms.
“Top secret,” Fluff said.
“No, really.”
“Yes, really.”
Oh, how she loved to say that.
Sometime later, after Daisy had force-fed herself half an egg salad sandwich and chunks of canned pineapple, a nurse from the operating room came out to speak with them. The doctors were going in to remove a bullet lodged in his thigh of all places. Another had gone through his upper arm, but that one came out the other side. As for the punctured lung—a pneumothorax—she told them that was likely caused by blunt trauma in the rough landing, not a bullet wound.
“How do you treat that?” Daisy asked.
“Needle aspiration and prayer. Sometimes in a last-ditch effort, they’ll go in with a chest tube, but we aren’t there yet. We’ll let you know when you can go in and see him.”
It was nearly eleven when the nurse returned, face expressionless. “Follow me.”
Walker lay in a small room upstairs with three other men. All asleep. The first thing Daisy noticed was the bluish hue to his lips, as though he’d eaten a whole basket of blueberries. His mouth hung open slightly and his long lashes rested against his cheek. He looked so utterly fragile. And pale. And heartbreaking.
Fluff hung back while Daisy and Peg moved alongside his bed. Daisy was tempted to climb under the sheets with him and infuse him with all the love she could muster. But they didn’t want to wake him, so they just stood there. She burned the contours of his face into memory, said a silent prayer, gave him a feathery kiss on the forehead and left him to heal.
* * *
Daisy felt something on her shoulder, shaking her. She brushed it off, thinking it was Mr. Silva wanting her to shovel more manure out of the stalls. “Miss Wilder, wake up,” a sweet voice said. “He’s asking for you.”
“Mr. Montgomery?” she mumbled.
“Walker.”
She woke fully, realizing where she was. Unfolding her limbs, she climbed off the couch and followed the nurse, a different one, into Walker’s room. Her lips were so dry they stuck together but she didn’t care. She tiptoed in, so as not to wake the others. Walker’s eyes were closed, and one arm and one leg were bandaged up thick. Daisy knelt down so she was a foot away from his face. “I’m here,” she whispered.
His eyes opened and he turned toward her, the edge of his mouth turning up on one side. “Damn you’re a beautiful sight,” he said.
He was blue and unshaven and gaunt, but in Daisy’s eyes, he was perfect.
She picked up his hand. “I’ve been here since before they brought you in. Peg too, but she went home at midnight to get a few hours of sleep. She’ll be back.”
“You and Peg? Together?”
Daisy smiled. “We talked things over.”
He exhaled, then winced on the inhale.
There was so much to say, and yet all she wanted to do was sit with him and hold his giant, calloused hand. Tell him that she loved him, and then some. They were words previously reserved for only her parents and the animals, and she felt strangely shy about uttering them.
“Are you crying, Wilder?”
Her hand went to her cheek, which was warm and wet. “I was so scared I would never see you again,” she said.
“Ah, hell. When the bullets started coming in, I thought I was a goner. But I told God I had a girl back home who had never flown in an airplane and I needed to make it back to see her, and how she shone brighter than the sun. Get down here with me, Daisy, would you?” he said, patting the side of the bed with his good hand.
Daisy.
Without hesitation, she slid onto the sheet, lying with her side halfway off the edge of the bed. Who cared if the nurses complained? She pressed her forehead to his cheek. That familiar Walker smell—horses and fresh grass and soap—mingled with iodine and sulphur. His skin burned to the touch.
“Did you change your mind about me?” he asked.
“I found the letter you wrote to my mother. I wanted to tell you so badly, but you were already gone.” She ran a finger down the side of his face. “We can talk more later. Just know that I am not going anywhere.”
Their eyes met.
“I love you, Daisy. I think I always have.”
His voice trailed off, lids fluttered, and then he was out.
30
THE BOAT
June could be counted on to bring lazy trade winds, more mangoes than you knew what to do with and lychees by the truckload. The trees had their own business to attend to, and cared not about any war. Daisy and the girls had risen early to help Lei pick mangoes off her trees, and now Betty showed them how to make mango bread. They’d be taking loaves into Tripler for the patients. You had to carefully peel them to avoid getting a rash, and chop the dripping orange flesh into chunks. Kittens shot around underfoot, so they had to watch their step.
Walker was still in the hospital, but his lips were less blue and his wounds were healing without signs of infection. Daisy visited tw
ice a day, at least, and lay on the bed with him. Still careful, but he now could wrap one arm around her. The mood in all of Shafter and all of Honolulu had shifted after the victory at Midway. With a good portion of the IJN at the bottom of the sea, the people of Hawai‘i were sleeping more easily at night. Lizard felt lighter too, with Nixon smiling at least once a day now. Sometimes for no reason in particular.
When a knock came at the door one morning, Daisy expected one of the girls next door coming to visit the kittens, so stopped cold when she saw the outline of a man in a cowboy hat behind the screen.
“Wilder, that you, girl?” a raspy voice said.
“Archie?” she said, opening the door. “Come in.”
He stepped inside, bringing smells of the racetrack with him—leather, alfalfa, hay—and held his hat against his chest.
“Uncle T told me where I’d find you. There’s a boat leaving today at three. Sounds like your horse could be on it.”
The clock read 10:38 a.m.
* * *
The docks at Honolulu Harbor were still bustling, though now with soldiers and livestock instead of Matson steamship passengers draped in lei. All five of them—including Peg, who had stopped by to help with the bread—had piled into Lei’s car.
“You need us as backup,” Fluff had demanded, when Daisy said just she and Lei would go.
“Plus, Moon technically belongs to me, so I might have more pull if it turns out to be him,” Peg offered.
The ship in question was named the Emmaline and she was already being loaded. Betty had insisted they dress in uniform and carry their badges. “We’ll tell them we’re on official business.”
Archie didn’t know which pier Emmaline would be docked at, but she wasn’t hard to find. They could smell the manure and sweat from a mile away. When they walked up, most of the animals had been loaded on already, but for a handful of sheep. Fluff peered into the hold and said, “You think they’ll let us in?”
Two armed guards walked over to them. “Excuse me, ladies, what’s your business here? This is a secure area.”
Radar Girls Page 28
