ROCKS AND SHOALS

by M. L. Maki

  “What do you command now?”

  She gives him a wry look, “Absolutely nothing. After the bond tour, I’m supposed to get CAG on the George Washington. That’s commander of the air group. I’ll have seven or eight squadrons.”

  Leigh, “Why the bond tour?”

  Sam, “They think it’ll be good for morale. Maybe it’ll help people, but I feel sidelined.”

  Margaret, “While we have you, we’ll take good care of you.” She gets up and clears the table.

  Leigh looks at Sam, “I’m going to check on the horses. Want to join me?”

  She smiles, “Yes, Grandpa.”

  They walk out to the barn, “You need riding boots and muck boots. We’ll go in tomorrow.”

  “I have money, Grandpa. I have enough to help with the farm.”

  “We’re getting by.”

  “Grandpa, the market for horses is practically gone during the war. What are you doing?”

  “We’ve always had a few cows. We have three heifers freshened. Our old milk cow is getting too old to freshen. We’ll have a surplus of milk and we’ll have some beef to sell in a couple of years.”

  They get to the barn and this time she looks up and grins, “I practically grew up in here. Oh, yeah, I see the patched holes. Margaret wasn’t kidding.”

  “No, she wasn’t. We’re fair set for hay. We sold two mares last summer. As long as we’re careful with our resources, we can ride it out on beef.” They walk through into the stables.

  Sam, “I want you to do more than survive. I want to help the farm grow.”

  “You want to go into business with us?” He pats a light bay mare, “Her name is Biscuit. She’s carrying her first foal.”

  Sam strokes Biscuit and checks her hooves. “I do. As a commodore, I was paid over six hundred dollars a month. There wasn’t much to spend it on. Well, books. But, not that many. Anyway, as a commander, it was a little over three hundred a month. Grandpa, I can invest two thousand dollars without it hurting me at all. And, I have another investment in Washington state that’s bringing in good money.”

  “I’ll talk it over with Margaret. We’ll not take charity from you, or anyone, but, if we’re entering a partnership, well, that’s a different thing. How tight will that make you?”

  “It’s half of what I brought with me. I still need to buy a car.”

  “What do you want?”

  “A Packard 12. I rode in one in England. It was nice.”

  “They are nice. A bit fancy, but good quality cars. I doubt you’ll find any around here, but I can ask around. You know all car production stopped with the war.”

  “I do. Are you still driving this Model A truck?”

  “It gets us by. It’s only twelve years old.”

  “Yeah, but any more than two and someone has to ride in the back.”

  “The boys have been doing that for years.”

  “Do you like Fords then?”

  “I like reliable. Fords are fairly reliable.”

  “Can we go car shopping tomorrow?”

  “Of course. You should know, you’re a bit of a celebrity around here.”

  “I’m expecting it. I just hope it doesn’t get silly. The ride down from DC was weird.”

  “We’re southerners. It’ll be fine.”

  “Okay. Do you have a tractor?”

  “Yes. Old Bess.” He walks over to a garage attached to the side of the barn. Inside is a John Deere Model D with pneumatic tires.

  “Grandpa, I can remember playing on this when I was little. I see you have a mower, harrower, and plow. I bet you could use a baler for hay.”

  “We get by. Haying and fruit picking are the way the high school kids make money.”

  “Yeah, but with a baler it takes a quarter of the time and you could make money baling for others.”

  Leigh smiles, “You do know how this works. Well, with two thousand dollars, we’ll look into it.”

  Sam grins, “Good.”

  TRAIN STATION, TEMPLE, TEXAS

  1800, 25 October, 1942

  Abigail Case, still wearing her WASP uniform, steps off the train carrying her bag. “Okay, Abigail, you’re in the back of beyond here. How are you going to get to Frank’s farm? God, I hope he’s there.” She checks her watch and looks at the sky. “There has to be a room to let here somewhere.” She walks into town and finds a café.

  An older woman behind the counter says, “Seat yourself.”

  She finds a booth and looks at the menu. She orders a hamburger and a coke. “Ma’am, is there a room to let in town?”

  “Oh, sure. We’ve a room available upstairs for a dollar. It isn’t the Ritz, but it’s clean.”

  “Thank you. That would be fine.”

  “Are you reporting to the base at Waco?”

  “No. I’ve a message for a naval officer who’s on leave. His name is Commander Frank Jackson. His home of record is near Chilton, Texas.”

  “Oh, yes. I know who you are talking about. You know, he’s a real hero. The paper says he’s shot down over one hundred enemy planes.”

  “Yes, one hundred and six.”

  “I heard he came in on the train this afternoon. You know it’s only twenty miles away. Would you rather get a ride out there tonight?”

  “Yes, if it could be arranged. That would be wonderful.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. The bus is only once a day to Chilton and it’s already gone.”

  HUNT FARM

  0122, 26 October, 1942

  Sam starts awake, sweating and shaking. Margaret holds her, stroking her hair, “Shush, child. You’re home. You’re fine. Shush.” She sees Leigh, holding a lamp, and David in the door. The worry on their faces says it all, she’s had another nightmare.

  “Sorry, Margaret. So, sorry.” She can’t stop crying; deep, gut deep, sobs wrack her body. “I’m sorry. It’s the…Papa…Puck…all of them. We lost so many. Tabitha…God, poor Mike. I’ve got to stop.” Margaret rocks her and looks at Leigh and David, “Put on the kettle and get a comforter out of the cupboard. We need to get her warmed up.”

  The men leave and Margaret holds Sam until the sobs diminish a bit. “Come, child. Let’s go down to the kitchen where it’s warm. They should have everything ready by now.” She helps Sam up and into her robe and slippers. When they get to the kitchen, Leigh’s stirred up the stove and fixed tea. David’s pulled the rocker up to the stove and has the comforter. In moments, Sam is wrapped up and drinking a hot cup of tea by the warmth of the wood-burning stove. “Yes, thank you. I think I’m feeling warmer. I’m so sorry.”

  Margaret pours herself a cup of tea and sits down, “Honey, what happened to you? What did they do?”

  Sam smiles wanly, “Oh, Margaret, they didn’t do anything. It’s the deaths. I was responsible for my squadron. Then all of detachment Yankee. Then all of naval units in Great Britain. I lost so many. Puck’s alive, but he’s in Bethesda. You see, our plane was hit by a German twenty millimeter. Puck was badly injured and I had to land, but our wings were stuck in the swept position. I was coming in so fast, trying to keep the nose up. I couldn’t see the runway. We almost didn’t make it down. I had no idea Puck was hit. I got us down, but then I found out I’d hurt my RIO.

  “With Puck injured, I had to do my job without my best…without my best friend. We were a team. I didn’t have to explain anything to Puck. He just knew. Without him, it was just harder. So much harder.

  “Margaret, I had no time to process anything. The Germans had just invaded. There was so much to do. We kept losing people. We’d been attritted to the point…well, we won. But it was so close and so hard. I had no time to grieve. I had to put it away. Tamp it down and carry on. Everyone… Britain was depending on me. On me.” She finishes drinking the tea, savoring the warmth. “Another?” She holds out her cup.

  Margaret takes it and pours her another. “Who is Tabitha and Mike?”

  “Tabitha Younger and Mike Mohr. Sweets and Too Tall. He’s the pilot of o
ur one EA6B. It was our electronic jamming plane. She was his co-pilot. They got shot down near the end of the invasion. They ejected and made it safely to the ground. Tabitha was murdered on the ground by the Germans. She died in Mike’s arms. He loved her and couldn’t tell her. He was her boss. It…it was…I’ve never seen a man so destroyed. He pulled it out and did amazing things to help us, but…I’ll never forget his face.” She looks at them. “When we went to the cemetery in Cambridge to say goodbye…I was saying goodbye to all of them. I was at Papa’s grave when I saw Mike at Tabitha’s. That was real grief. That was real love.” She sets the cup down, “Maybe we should go to bed. Thank you for listening.”

  When she gets up, Leigh, David, and Margaret wrap her up and she finds herself in the embrace of her family.

  NORFOLK NAVAL SHIPYARD, PORTSMOUTH, VIRGINIA

  0721, 26 October, 1942

  Lt. Tiffany Van Zandt steps off the base bus with her seabag. She’s in her winter khaki’s and watch coat. The bow of the George Washington rises above her. She walks to the security point at the head of the pier and presents her ID. The petty officer in charge says, “Welcome aboard, ma’am.”

  “Is the captain aboard?”

  “Yes, ma’am, he is.”

  “May I leave my bags here?”

  “Um…aren’t you reporting aboard?”

  She grins, “No. I’m reporting as the captain’s daughter.”

  “Oh wow. That’s wonderful. Yes, you may leave your bags, and here’s a hard hat.”

  On the quarter-deck, they direct her to his office. She knocks on the door and opens it. A yeoman asks, “Can I help you, Lieutenant?”

  “Is the Captain in?”

  “He is. May I ask why you wish to see him?”

  “I’m his daughter.”

  Captain Christian Van Zandt comes out of his office, papers in hand, “Titus, I need…” He sees Tiffany and drops the papers. In one step he’s to her and scooping her into his arms. “Oh my God, honey. I thought I’d lost you.” He can’t stop his tears.

  Tiffany, “Dad. Dad. Oh God, I thought I had lost you.” She turns her tear-stained face to his and smiles. “I missed you.”

  Chris lets her go and grabs a hanky, wiping his face. “Titus, wipe my slate. I’m taking my daughter home.”

  CADILLAC DEALERSHIP, LANSING, MICHIGAN

  0822, 26 October, 1942

  Swede and Gloria, in civilian clothes, walk around a maroon 1942 Cadillac Sixty Special Fleetwood two door convertible. Gloria smiles, “It’s beautiful, but it’s not my Invicta.”

  Swede, “You’re Invicta won’t be off the boat for weeks. We need a car now. So, is this okay?”

  The salesman smiles, walking up. Swede, “So, this is a new car, right? The sticker price is twenty-three?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Swede, “You’re not going to get a lot of offers during the war.”

  “We’re doing fine.”

  “Oh, I’m sure GM is doing well. They have government contracts, but yours is a private dealership. I’m thinking you want to make a sale.”

  “So, you want this car? Your wife really likes it.”

  “We’re wanting a car. It doesn’t need to be this one. What kind of deal can you make us?”

  “It’s a good car and a good deal.”

  Swede turns to leave.

  The salesman, “You’re just walking away?”

  Swede shrugs, “Give us a deal. There’s no shortage of cars for sale because of gas restrictions.”

  “Let me speak with my manager.”

  After the salesman walks into the office, Gloria says, “This part is all you. I like it, but I can walk away.”

  “I know love. I want to talk them down to two thousand or less.” As they walk in, the manager walks up, “Sir, you’re obviously a skilled negotiator. We offer installment loans. May I ask your occupation?”

  Swede, “We’ll talk price first. Don’t waste my time.”

  “We’re willing to work with you. Twenty-one hundred”

  “No. You can do better than that.”

  “Name your price.”

  “No, that’s your job. Sir, I don’t need a sale. You do. I know you’ve already paid for the car and it’s costing you money to hold it. I can get a car anywhere. This one is okay, but it’s just a car.”

  The manager takes a breath and really looks at Swede, “I see. Our best price is eighteen hundred.”

  Swede puts out his hand, “We accept.”

  Twenty minutes later, Swede and Gloria load their bags into their new car and are heading east out of town. Gloria leans on her fiance’s shoulder, “Swede, honey, you are brilliant.”

  He grins down at her, “Thank you, love.”

  BOONEVILLE, KENTUCKY

  1010, 26 October, 1942

  Commander Michael Mohr, in his aviation greens, gets off the bus and walks into the café where the bus stopped. An old timer in bib overalls is walking out, “Can I help you, sir?”

  “I’m looking for the home of Neal and Ellen Younger.”

  “Well, you’re not far off. It’s just down Mulberry street there. Right on Court and you’re there. They own the apothecary.”

  “Thank you.” He shifts the bag on his back and walks away. His destination is only a block away. It’s a two-story brick building with an old wood door. He walks in and is overwhelmed by the aroma.

  A youngish man behind a counter in the back looks up, “Would you be Commander Mohr?”

  “I am. I confess, I expected you to be older. You are Mr. Neal Younger?”

  “Yes, I am. Come in and have a seat. Coffee?”

  “Thank you.” He puts his bag against the wall and sits.

  “How do you like your coffee?”

  “Black is fine. Are you her grandfather?”

  Neal smiles, “Yep, I am. So, you’re one of those time travelers, too.”

  “I am.”

  “You said in your letter that you were her boss. You know, you needn’t come all this way for us.”

  “Mike nods, “But, I did.”

  Neal looks at him, “Let me explain. We got the letter from the navy and the missus and I, we wrote her. Problem is, we didn’t know Tabitha. From her letters she seemed sweet and very smart. It’s sad and all, but it’s hard to mourn someone you’ve never met.” He watches the emotions crossing Mike’s face, “What was she to you?”

  “I was her boss, so I had to keep it professional, and so did she. I loved her, Mr. Younger. She was badly wounded and I was holding her and I realized I had to tell her. She told me she loved me, too. Then she died.”

  Neal nods, “So, instead of seeing your own folks, you came here to connect with who she was.”

  “Yes. It sounds silly, but yes. My grandfather and I never got along. The only family I had is in the ground in Cambridge, England.” Mike gets up and reaches for his bag.

  Neal walks around the counter and pulls Mike into a hug, “Well, then. Welcome to the family, son.”

  STONE MOUNTAIN, TENNESSEE

  1120, 26 October, 1942

  Sam wanders through the general store. It isn’t large, but it’s well stocked. She’s wearing jeans, a flannel shirt, her flight boots, and her flight jacket. The others in the store stare, but they leave her alone. When she passes one, they say a quiet, “Thank you.” Or, “God bless you.”

  A well-built young man approaches her, “Ma’am, may I ask you some questions about the military?”

  She makes eye contact and smiles. He has kind eyes, but seems like he’s perpetually ready to crack a joke. “What would you like to know?”

  “I graduate in the spring. I’ll be drafted right after, if I don’t volunteer. Thing is, I want to go, but I don’t know anything.”

  “What’s your name and what would you like to do?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m Jason McLean. I, uh, begging your pardon, but I want to kick butt.”

  “Can you shoot?”

  “Um, pretty good, by Te
nnessee standards. I can bark a squirrel at two hundred.”

  “You look like you’re in good shape.”

  “I’m the full back for the football team. I don’t dodge defenders, I run over them.”

  She grins, “Can you swim?”

  “Like a fish, ma’am.”

  “Okay, Jason. I’m home for a couple of weeks. I know a program that might suit you. I can talk to you, and your friends on the team, if they want to know more. If y’all want the special program and pass the test, I’ll write you each a letter of recommendation.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  Leigh walks up, “Sam, I think I’ve found your boots.”

  She tries on a pair of dark brown riding boots, “Yes, they fit. These work. I’ll take them and the muck boots.” She looks up at the proprietor of the store, “Vern, do you know anyone who might have a baler they’d like to part with?”

  “I do. The tractor supply down in Athens has been sitting on one of those New Holland balers. Brand new in ’40, but folks here just don’t have the cash.”

  Sam and Leigh pay for their purchases and store them in the Model A pickup. “Grandpa, let’s go to Athens. I might find a car there, too.”

  CHAPTER 16

  ADMIRAL LEAHY’S OFFICE, WHITE HOUSE

  1200, 26 October, 1942

  King accepts a cup of coffee from a steward. He takes a sip. “God, what a day. Russell’s chief of staff, Diggs, is running around DC telling people he has fifty-one votes to block the promotion of any female officer. Do you know anything about that?”

  Leahy, “After we pushed through the equality acts, we got a great deal of push back. Especially about female officers. Diggs is chief of staff for the senator that’s the ring-leader of the anti-woman movement in congress.”

  “Our failing to promote Hunt, when she obviously deserved it is causing no small amount of push back from the ranks. There are a lot of pissed off aviators, and I look like an ass. What are we doing to fix it?”