by Ella Carey
“Yes.” Eva drew her arms around her waist. It was the plane that Harry was most likely to fly.
“I’m impressed with your knowledge. You know, if you are successful with Jackie’s outfit, you’ll have to learn how to fly every type of plane there is. It won’t be a case of just getting to know one plane. You’ll have to get to know ’em all, inside and out. And you sure have an interest.”
“Well,” she said, “I only hope I can do them all justice, then, if I’m successful and if I get into WASP. I tell you, I take pride in the fact that I can memorize the specs of a plane. And in my spare time, sometimes, I read airplane books for fun!”
“Eva Scott.” The woman conducting the interview appeared at the door. Nina was standing next to her. She had that concentrating, fixed expression she used to wear when they had math tests at school.
Nina put her head down and moved toward the front door.
“Good luck, young lady,” the old man said. “Dear, you have a real plane enthusiast here. And she knows her stuff.”
The woman standing at the door of the interview room stepped aside. “Do you have your pilot’s license now, Eva?”
“I sure do, ma’am,” Eva said, and held the license out that she’d worked so hard toward with Harry, placing it right in the woman’s manicured hand.
“Well, I’m pleased to hear that. Why don’t you step right inside?”
When the interview room door clicked closed, Eva felt the inevitability of what she was doing for the first time. If this was the beginning of a new life among a new sort of people, Eva was more than ready to take it on.
Even though Eva stumbled a little through her interview, she did well in her physical, and she hoped that the interviewer’s husband might put in a few good words for her with his wife.
One hot August evening, Eva found a letter from Henry H. Arnold, chief of the air force, propped up on her pillow, waiting for her when she came home from work. A pink-and-yellow sunset simmered outside, and the house was silent and empty.
It was bingo night at the local community center. Her mother and father hadn’t missed one of those evenings in years. Eva felt a momentary stab at the thought that her mom had seen the letter from Henry H. Arnold first, and now she would not be home when Eva opened it and read it. The envelope looked poignant waiting there alone on her pink coverlet.
Eva slid a letter opener into the thick, quality envelope, and Nina tore into her bedroom.
“I’m in! Evie, I’m not doing this without you. I swear, if you haven’t gotten in, I’ll wash myself out of WASP training right at this moment. Now.”
Eva scanned the letter with Nina right behind her, her eyes running down the words and her heart beating a strange new tattoo in her chest.
“Oh, I’m in too. We’ve done it!”
Nina grabbed Eva into a hug and held her fast against her chest. “I swear this is going to be the best thing we’ve done. I know it’s right. It just is. You realize what this means?”
“I know,” Eva said. “A future away from the factory. A future that could mean anything. Look what Jacqueline Cochran has done with her life!”
“The freedom to fly and be paid for it. The chance to contribute in a real way to our country and to the war.”
Eva held her best friend at arm’s length. “Let’s swear we’ll make a success of this. Let’s swear that we’ll do everything we can to make good of this opportunity.”
Nina wiped a stray tear from her eye. “You know how many girls want to be WASP?”
“Thousands.”
“The acceptance rate is less than ten percent! That’s what the interviewer told me. One in ten, and we got in.”
“I have no idea why.”
“Well, neither do I, honey, but I sure am not questioning the decision!”
Eva held Nina’s gaze. “Have you told your mom?”
Nina stood up a little taller. “She said she had great faith in me, that I could do anything if I put my mind to it.”
“And that you can.”
The sounds of Eva’s parents coming up the driveway loomed in the still summer night. Nina gave Eva a quick hug.
“Bye, Evie. I need to go back and make plans with Ma.” Nina took a step back, catching Eva’s eye and holding it. “And you come over anytime if you need to. Don’t put the news off.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE COMMITTEE: On her return to the US from England, Jacqueline Cochran was tasked with training a new Women’s Flying Training Detachment known as the WFTD. Cochran was to train women pilots to supply Nancy Love’s Women’s Auxiliary Ferrying Squadron, the WAFS, that was all, and these were all just civilian women pilots. You will understand that if these women are given military recognition, we will have every other civilian group in the country applying.
EVA FORREST: Nancy Love’s WAFS and Jacqueline Cochran’s WFTD, the predecessors for the WASP, were the first women pilots to fly US military aircraft in this country. We are not training women to fly military planes for the first time now, in 1977. Even the early WAFS recruits back in 1942 were all experienced female pilots. Jacqueline Cochran saw that very soon these pilots would be doing more than ferrying planes from factory to military base for the war, so Henry H. Arnold came up with the acronym WASP. The WAFS and WFTD were merged into Women Airforce Service Pilots in mid-1943. They were amalgamated and got full military training.
THE COMMITTEE: You say that the WAFS and the WASP were the first women military pilots in the US, but the point is that Cochran did not go to Congress and apply for militarization for her women pilots when the WASP was formed.
EVA FORREST: If Cochran had insisted that the WASP were militarized in 1943, we might have had that recognition. But the country was in desperate need of pilots. Jacqueline Cochran agreed to hold off militarizing the WASP, and instead, she put all her efforts into getting the scheme up and running, assuming that the women’s excellent records and service to our country would guarantee Congress’s approval. But this never happened. So she went on without congressional recognition.
Eva hovered by the kitchen door of her home, the letter from Henry Arnold offering her a place in WASP training clutched in her hand. Her father’s lighthearted chitchat was accompanied by responses from her mom that could only be described in one way: short.
“Hello there.” Her father smiled at her, his cheeks flushed with traces of red wine, visible even in the moonlight.
“Dad, Mom.” Eva held the screen door open for them.
Her mom stepped over the threshold first, wiping a hand over her tired brow.
“Well, that was a mighty successful bingo evening.” Her dad pulled out a handful of coins from his pocket. He spread them over the kitchen table with a clatter. “Our next outing to the movies is on me, Ruth.”
Eva’s mother struck a match to light the gas and put the kettle on for coffee. Eva felt a stab of guilt at the way her mom’s hands shook like a pair of fluttering leaves.
“We did not take great risks, Gerald. I would never be one to gamble with anything I hold dear.”
Eva caught her father’s eye. She pulled out a chair and sat down, preparing for war.
“We’ll be sure to use the small winnings to go to the pictures,” her mom said. “Eva, perhaps you’d like to join us? We could see what is playing in the next couple weeks and pick something. A family outing. How about that?” Her mother’s gaze was quick and surefire, and it landed like a dead weight on the telltale envelope in Eva’s hand.
“Dad, Mom, I have some news to tell you.”
Her mom moved over to the cupboard. Pulled out two coffee mugs. “Who would like a cup of coffee? Eva?”
“No. Thank you.”
“I will, dear.” Her dad’s voice was measured, quiet. He pulled back his chair and sat down.
The linoleum squeaked under Eva’s mom’s practical shoes. Slowly, she collected a teaspoon, then went back to get some sugar from the cupboard, twisting the lid on the jar with a flourish.
“I heard that Jackson Watson’s turned to drinking and gambling since he lost that boy of his to the war. Folks are terribly worried Jackson Watson will make an attempt on his own life.”
Eva placed the WASP offer down on the table in front of her like a deck of cards.
“Mom, Dad, I got accepted to WASP.” Her announcement spun in the air, took on a life of its own, and lingered like some precious, fragile spirit.
Her mom pulled the kettle off the burner. She turned the gas off. Her back to Eva, she poured coffee into two cups. She thumped Eva’s dad’s coffee down on the table. A pool of brown liquid spilled over the rim of the cup and spread.
“I’ll get that.” In a flash, her dad was out of his chair and at the sink.
Eva dared risk a glance at her mother’s face. Under her thinning hair and the dark circles that pooled under her puffed eyes, her cheeks were as white as one of her freshly washed towels. She yanked out her chair and sat down in it. The chair that had been hers ever since Eva and Meg were little girls, the chair where she’d read to them while they drew at the kitchen table, pigtails swinging and faces frowning in concentration, the chair her mom had sat in when they rushed home from high school to tell her all the gossip of the day. And the chair her mom had slumped down in, refusing to get out of all night after they came back from the hospital on the day that Meg had died.
“Congratulations, sweetie.” Gerald busied himself wiping up the brown mess.
“Thank you, Dad. I am so honored to be accepted. They only take around ten percent of girls who try out.”
Her mom stared at her cup of coffee as if not seeing a thing. “I suppose you won’t even be able to come to see a picture with us now.”
“Mom—”
“Why are you doing this?” Her mother’s words struck like a hammer against hard rock.
Eva fought an urge to move across to her mother, to hold her, but she knew her mom better than that. Her mother’s strength was not in emotional outpourings of love. It was in being there. And now, Eva was leaving home, perhaps for good.
“I’ve explained why I’m going. You know why I want to fly. I’ve told you how Harry has been teaching me. You are so very fond of him.”
Her mother turned, her eyes catching her daughter’s. Her mom might be reserved, but that didn’t stop her seeing things. It didn’t stop her knowing her own daughter’s mind. “It’s because Harry is going. You won’t stay here without him. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Please, give me more credit than that. There are so many reasons why I know I should do this. I admit, I can’t just wait here while my friends contribute to the war, but also, this is something I feel is right. It’s something I need to do.”
“Best thing you could do is wait here for him. Be here for him when he gets home.”
Eva softened her tone. “You know that Harry is dating Lucille. There is no point in me waiting at home for him, Mom. I may as well do something useful.”
But her mother’s tone was low and dangerous. “Your feelings for him will not stop because of other people. It’s the same thing as love not stopping when someone dies. You have no idea what it’s like to lose a daughter. If you did, you would not be risking your life going to fly those ridiculous planes.”
Eva shot her head up toward her mother, a knife piercing and twisting deep inside. Did her mom not realize that Eva loved Meg too? That she had lost the sister who used to stroke her hair at night until she fell asleep? The girl who had shared every part of her young life?
“Why not tell him how you feel, dear? Surely that would be easier than all this rushing off and proving that you can do what he can do.”
Eva folded her hands on the table. Stared at the patterns in the wood. The feel of her mother’s metallic gaze bored into her.
And one thought hit, hard. Was she as stubborn as her mother?
“Ruth . . .” Her father coughed. “I think that’s enough. Leave Evie alone.”
Her mom pushed her coffee away and laced her hands.
“I love you both,” Eva said. She stood up and kissed the tops of their heads. “I don’t think we should go on anymore tonight. I hope, one day, you will give me your blessing, Mom. Thank you, Dad, for your understanding and support.”
Her mother’s silence followed her up the empty hallway to her room.
The community hall was decorated with stars and stripes and streamers the night before Harry went off to war. Eva walked into his farewell party alone, the red dress she’d decided to wear for courage and confidence feeling all wrong when she laid eyes on Lucille. She wanted to run back home and get changed when she saw the demure light-blue dress that Lucille had chosen to wear to bid farewell to the man they both loved.
A photographer snapped photos of Harry and Lucille in front of the band. Lucille tilted her head and smiled at the photographer, her porcelain skin shining and her blond hair done up in an elegant chignon. Her blue chiffon dress was gathered at the waist with a sparkling diamanté clasp, and the soft skirt swirled around her long legs.
“Beautiful.” The photographer sent Lucille an exaggerated wink. “Can we have one of you alone, sweetheart?”
Harry stepped aside, a look of indulgence on his face, and Eva stood still, heart thumping, her mother’s words ringing in her head.
The glamour of Hollywood shone like the lights on a film set all around Lucille tonight. It was as if she were from another world.
After a few seconds of not being able to tear her gaze away, Eva felt a tug at her elbow.
Nina was right by her side.
“You look gorgeous.” Nina dragged her away from her vigil. “Stunning.”
Eva sighed. She hugged her friend, whose five-foot-two frame was encased in a bold little black number. “You look just lovely yourself.”
“Come with me.” Nina marched her determinedly across the room, her long hair swinging to her waist. She’d pulled it half up in the front, and it looked mighty fashionable.
Dylan’s wheelchair sat on the outskirts of a group of their old school friends. Eva felt her heart go out to him, and any thoughts of Lucille were obliterated at the sight of his stump of a leg sticking straight out in front.
Nina took hold of the handles of his chair. “Dylan, I swear you’re gonna have a good time tonight.”
“Hurting today?” Eva asked, crouching down next to him.
Dylan stared straight ahead. Eva wished she could help him with the battles he was facing in his mind.
“I heard you’re going despite my best warnings, Evie.” His tone was flat.
Eva searched his face. “I am. I have to. I hope you understand.”
“I will pray every day that neither you, Nina, or Harry have to face your own failure for the rest of your life. And yes, I understand, all right.”
She leaned in closer to him. “Dylan, you were the first of us to join. None of us can even begin to imagine what you saw out there in Tunisia, what you went through.” She’d heard stories of tanks being blown to bits around him, bursting into flames while being attacked by German guns. “For my part, I send prayers of thanks each night that you came home alive.”
Dylan’s empty gaze did not falter. He adjusted himself, grimacing with the effort and easing his leg in the wheelchair. Out of the corner of her eye, Eva saw Lucille twirling and posing for the photographer, a gorgeous smile lighting up her features.
“At least someone’s enjoying tonight,” she said, hoping to cheer him a little.
But Dylan gripped her hand. The intensity of it caused Eva to startle a little. He leaned up to her ear. “I sure hope Harry sees the light, because I for one can’t see myself becoming friends with Lucille. And I’d love it if Harry ended up with a friend. I can’t see myself hanging around here in Los Angeles, but I have to tell you—”
“Dylan—”
“What are you two gossiping about?” Nina leaned forward from where she held Dylan’s chair. “Evie looks like she’s about to go into a dead faint.”
A waiter came around with a tray of champagne, and the band played the last few notes of “As Time Goes By.”
“Champagne?” Nina took two glasses and handed one down to Dylan. “Goodness knows where they got this stuff from. Although Lucille’s been bragging about her daddy to no end, so I’m supposing he’s responsible.”
Eva took a glass, one hand still encased in Dylan’s.
Harry sashayed across the room, Lucille clinging to his arm.
“That was so darling.” Lucille tittered, her eyes glittering over them all. “The newspaper man told me they’d label the photo, ‘Hollywood princess must wait for her soon-to-be Helldiver hero to come home.’”
Harry looked at Lucille with adoration.
Dylan tightened his grip on Eva’s hand.
The band struck up “It’s Always You.”
“Oh, how perfectly sweet. This is our song, Harry.” Lucille reached up and tweaked him on the nose.
Nina choked on her champagne.
“For me, it will always be you, my love.” Lucille took Harry’s arm and led him to the dance floor, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Eva tipped back her champagne and took a big gulp.
“Once our training starts, there will be no time to get blue over any boy, Evie.” Nina placed her hand on her hip and glared at Lucille and Harry.
“Thank goodness,” Eva murmured. “If there are no boys at Sweetwater, I’ll be ten thousand times happier than any girl in the world.”
Once the last dance was done and the lights were turned up, Harry moved to the door to say his farewells with Lucille right alongside him, hugging all their old friends. Eva clutched the folds of her red dress and waited in line with everyone else to wish him Godspeed.
Eva shook Lucille’s manicured hand when she got to the front of the queue. She accepted Lucille’s kiss politely and then found herself face to face with Harry. She wanted to either turn around and run or reach out and hold him and never let go.
Dylan’s wheelchair glinted beside her. Nina still held on to it, steadfast, and they both chatted with Lucille for a moment. Eva was certain Nina was giving her time with Harry.
