Dream of Her Heart

by Shanna Hatfield

  “The Tornado looks good,” Bud said as they walked around the Flying Fortress, as the B-17s were known.

  “Yep,” Zane said, stopping to study the nose art newly painted on the plane. As the pilot, he got to choose the name and, with the agreement of his crew, settled on Texas Tornado. The art showed an outline of the state of Texas with a tornado spinning over it. In the center of the Tornado was a perfect yellow rose in full bloom.

  Their navigator had practically begged them to go with Yellow Rose as the name and an image of a naked girl holding a yellow rose painted on the nose, but Zane had seen too many of those. He was all for boosting morale, but art exploiting naked women just seemed disrespectful to him, especially when some of the soldiers used photographs of their wives or girlfriends for the designs. Zane was sure most women would be mortified to find their faces stuck on those bare bodies.

  “Wish you’d given in and gone with Yellow Rose?” Bud asked as they turned and started back toward the barracks.

  “Nope. Not at all.” Zane grinned at his friend. “How about you?”

  Bud shrugged. “I was holding out for Naughty Nancy.”

  Zane thumped him on the back and chuckled. “You were not. Do you even know someone named Nancy?”

  “Nope, but if I meet a Nancy someday, I could tell her she was the inspiration for the dame on our plane.”

  Zane rolled his eyes, but before he could offer any comments, an officer approached them.

  They stood at attention as the man stopped in front of them.

  “At ease, gentlemen,” the colonel said. “Everything in ship-shape order with your plane?”

  “Yes, sir,” Zane said, wondering what was behind the colonel’s question. He assumed it wouldn’t take long for the reason to come to light.

  “Good. Your crew will fly out in the morning for a new post. Be ready by 0400 hours for further instruction. That will be all.”

  “Yes, sir,” Zane and Bud said in unison, watching the colonel and his assistant walk off.

  “I guess we better tell the others and pack our gear,” Bud said as they turned toward the barracks.

  Zane glanced back at the colonel and noticed him stop another pilot in their squadron. “Looks like things are about to get exciting.”

  Chapter Seven

  “You’ll be flying to Midway today, men. The Japs are planning something and we’re gonna be ready for them,” the colonel said as he walked around the room, briefing the crews who had gathered there before dawn. “I want wheels up in an hour. Once you reach the island, you’ll be given your orders. Fly smart and stay safe.”

  Zane and Bud, along with the other crews, hurried out to load their bags on the planes and get ready to take flight. Bud sent the tail gunner to the mess hall to bring them back something to eat. Pancakes wrapped around sausages filled their empty bellies as they made final preparations before lining up on the runway.

  “You suppose the Japs are really planning an attack on Midway?” Bud asked as Zane zoomed down the runway and the plane lifted into the air.

  “They must be or the colonel wouldn’t be sending us there.” Zane glanced at the other planes making the trip to Midway. He knew there were already B-17s on the island making daily search missions, along with Navy Catalina patrol bombers. The Catalinas, waddling things that they were, rarely got past a slow, piddling speed, regardless if they were climbing, flying, or landing. Armed with only .30 caliber machines guns, the rumbling amphibians were a death trap when cornered by Jap fighters. However, the planes could fly almost all day long without refueling.

  “There she is,” Bud said, pointing out the window hours later as they approached Midway. The island was really an atoll, a ring of coral reef encircling a lagoon.

  “Looks pretty from up here,” Zane said, grinning at his friend. “Did you know Midway is part of a chain of volcanic islands that run from Hawaii all the way up to the Aleutians?”

  “I do now, professor.” Bud smiled. “Been reading the encyclopedia again?”

  Zane shrugged. “Maybe. Better than walking around like a dunce.”

  Bud laughed and said something Zane couldn’t hear over the roar of the engines.

  He looked down, admiring the blue water. The barrier reef stretched nearly five miles in diameter while the island offered several sand islets. The two most significant pieces of land, though, were Sand Island and Eastern Island. Not only did seabirds call it home, but so did many military men who’d been working to fortify the atoll.

  Zane knew the location of Midway had been important to the military before America entered the war. It was a convenient place to refuel on transpacific flights, and a vital stop for Navy ships. Airstrips, gun emplacements, and a seaplane base were built in 1940 on the island, along with a submarine base. Early in 1941, President Roosevelt created a naval defense area in the Pacific territories, establishing Midway Island Naval Defensive Sea Area. Only U.S. government ships and aircraft were permitted to enter the naval defense areas at Midway.

  And Midway was second only to Pearl Harbor on the list of importance to protect from a Japanese attack. In actuality, Midway was attacked by two Japanese destroyers the same day as the enemy unleashed terror on Pearl Harbor. Those defending Midway successfully triumphed over the Japanese that day in the first American victory of the war. A Japanese submarine had bombarded Midway in February, but again the Americans prevailed.

  Now, it seemed, the Japs were planning a third attack on the tiny island.

  “I like the runway,” Bud said, pointing to the three paved runways that criss-crossed to form what appeared to be a large A on the island.

  “I’ll like it better once I know we can land smoothly,” Zane said, lowering the landing gear and expertly setting down the plane.

  The wheels glided easily over the surface of the runway and they came to a stop, along with the other planes in their group.

  It didn’t take long to surmise the island was overcrowded. In addition to Marine Corp, Navy and Air Force planes, the island had two good search radars, and plenty of artillery. Nearly three thousand men in Army and Marine units had dug in and were protected by bombproof shelters throughout the island.

  Cooperating with the Marine ground forces on the island, the plane crews serviced their own planes and refueled them, leaving them ready to take off at a moment’s notice.

  Tired, dirty, and hungry when they finished readying the Tornado for flight, Zane and his crew made their way to their temporary bunks. Everywhere they turned was crowded — with men and supplies. Fear and anticipation lurked around corners while determination and hope lingered in the air.

  Restless as they awaited further orders, Zane and Bud went to check on their plane then meandered to the beach.

  “What do you think is gonna go down?” Bud asked as they strolled along a stretch of white sand. “Do you think we’ll see some action?”

  “I do, Bud. They wouldn’t have sent us out here just for kicks.” Zane stopped and picked up a seashell. He wondered if Billie would like it. She’d mentioned going to the Oregon coast. Did she enjoy the beach? Annoyed with himself for letting thoughts of her trickle into his head, he pulled back his arm, ready to send the shell swirling into the ocean. Just before he let it go, he dropped his arm and stuffed the shell into his pocket.

  Bud grinned at him but wisely refrained from commenting on his odd behavior.

  “There are so many men here, they look like ants overrunning a picnic basket,” Bud said, pointing to where soldiers dug trenches in the distance.

  Zane nodded in agreement. “I reckon they do.” He tipped his head toward the mess hall. “You bring any of those cookies your folks sent to you?”

  “Sure did.” Bud whacked him on the back good-naturedly. “Maybe you can wrangle up some milk or coffee to go with them.”

  “Consider it done,” Zane said, heading toward the mess hall.

  Although that evening proved peaceful, an undercurrent of expectation and worry washed o
ver them all as they turned in for the night.

  Early the next morning, Zane and his crew ate breakfast then hurried to their plane for a search mission. The admiral in charge wanted daily sweeps flown at least seven hundred miles out to make sure the Japanese weren’t sneaking up on them.

  As they flew, Zane gave Bud the controls for a while and watched the water and clouds below them. It would be easy to miss an enemy ship beneath the cover of clouds, but they did their best to keep an eye out.

  The next few days were like living in a loop that replayed over and over. Eat, fly, search, return, service the plane, eat, and finally snatch a few hours of sleep before starting it all over again.

  By the time he made it to his bunk to rest, Zane was exhausted. In the past two days, they’d been in the air more than thirty hours, and had yet to see anything. The following day, he and his crew entered the mess hall to find the Japanese had dropped bombs on Dutch Harbor in the Aleutian Islands where two American bases were located.

  “I think it’s a diversion,” Bud said as he and Zane sat at a table with others. “They want to split our resources, draw us away from Midway.”

  “I agree,” Zane said as he lifted a fork heaped with mashed potatoes to his mouth. “Midway has to stay the main focus now.”

  The men had just finished their meal when word trickled in that one of the Catalina pilots had spied Japanese ships.

  Zane and his crew, along with eight other crews, raced to their B-17s to take to the skies. Realizing he’d forgotten something important, at least to him, Zane sprinted back to his bunk and grabbed the scarf Billie had given him.

  He didn’t believe in good luck charms, but he hadn’t flown without it since she’d placed it in his hand and he sure wasn’t going to start now. Quickly tucking it inside his pocket, his long strides carried him to the Tornado. As soon as he climbed behind the controls of the plane, they rushed to the runway and took off to attack the convoy.

  “We’re gonna nail ’em, but good, Tex!” Bud exclaimed as they zoomed across the sky toward their destination. The men were in high spirits as they crossed more than five hundred miles and came upon the Japanese ships.

  Under the direction of the officer leading the charge, Zane’s crew dropped bombs from high in the sky and watched geysers erupt when the bombs exploded in the water. In total, more than thirty demolition bombs, each weighing six hundred pounds, had been dropped before they flew back to Midway.

  “You think we wiped ’em out?” Bud asked as they fell into formation on the flight back.

  “I don’t know, Bud. It’s hard to tell from this height. I doubt we got them all, but hopefully it shook them up enough they’ll think twice about continuing with their plans, whatever they might be.” Zane glanced down at the clouds below them, wondered how many more enemy ships drew closer to Midway.

  The enormity of what they needed to do, what was at stake if they failed to defend the island, washed over him, leaving him nervous, yet determined.

  The crew hadn’t settled down, full of anxious energy, when they landed at Midway. While Zane wanted nothing more than some peace and quiet to get his thoughts in order and settled on the task at hand, the men wanted to recall every moment of their flight. Unwilling to do anything to dampen their good spirits, he encouraged them as they spoke with bravado of what they hoped to accomplish tomorrow.

  The next morning, Zane and his crew were up before dawn and ready for their orders. One of the Catalina pilots who’d gone out on a search mission an hour earlier radioed a report that enemy planes were heading toward Midway.

  “In the air! Get all the planes in the air!” orders were called over the arising chaos.

  Zane and Bud hustled the men of their crew to board the Tornado so they could get in line for take-off.

  “Shake the rust off your joints, Smitty, and move it!” Zane shouted over his shoulder to their belly gunner as they ran toward the plane.

  The man, who was all of five-foot-four if he stretched, tossed Zane a cocky grin. “It ain’t rust, Tex. You long-legged giraffes just make it hard to keep up.”

  By six that morning, the only plane left on the ground was an old single-float biplane.

  With orders to head north and attack the Japanese carriers, Zane mentally prepared for the battle ahead. When they reached the Japanese carriers, they dropped their load of bombs then dipped down low enough to strafe a carrier’s deck before pulling back amid heavy anti-aircraft fire.

  “Did they bring the whole dang Japanese Navy?” Bud asked as they pulled back up while explosions of flak burst around them.

  “It sure looks like it,” Zane said, zooming away from the enemy fire.

  The war raged throughout the day. Dive bombers, Wildcat fighters, and B-26 planes carrying torpedoes joined in the battle as the Americans valiantly fought to protect Midway from invading Japanese forces.

  When Zane and his crew finally returned to Midway, it was to find the installations there badly wrecked by enemy bombers, but still in American hands, with the runways intact. Bombs had taken out mess halls, barracks, shelters, even a hospital, along with the powerhouse on the East Island that resulted in the loss of the refueling system.

  Zane and the other plane crews that returned to the island had to service their planes with the cans and drums they could find amid the debris.

  Although the majority of the fighting took place on June fourth, the battle wasn’t declared over until a few days later. In that time, the American forces had lost one of three carrier ships. The Yorktown had been hit on the fourth and abandoned. When a salvage party went over on the sixth on the destroyer Hammann to attempt to bring her back to port, a Japanese submarine put one torpedo into Hammann and two into Yorktown. The great carrier that had survived the Battle of the Coral Sea sank in the early morning hours of June seventh.

  Additional American losses included an estimated one hundred and fifty aircraft and more than three hundred good men. However, the Japanese had lost four carriers, numerous ships, more than three hundred planes, and an estimated three thousand men.

  The victory was hard-won and provided a much needed boost to the morale of American troops and those on the home front.

  “The Japs won’t soon recover from the lickin’ we gave them,” Bud said as he and Zane once again worked with the crew to service the plane. The men were beyond exhausted, but a time for rest was forthcoming.

  “I hope they don’t. It seems like things are a little more balanced now. Maybe they’ll think twice about coming at us again like that.” Zane wiped his hands on a greasy rag and motioned to his men. “Let’s get the Tornado fueled then see what we can round up for grub.”

  “You’re always ready to eat, aren’t you, Tex?” Smitty asked as he polished the plexiglass bubble on his belly gun turret.

  Zane smiled. “I reckon I am, but only if there’s something tasty to be had.” Unbidden, thoughts of Billie Brighton, of her delicious kisses snuck into his thoughts. Subconsciously, his hand patted the pocket where he kept her scarf, feeling closer to her with it there.

  Before his lips ever settled on hers, no doubt had existed in his mind that she’d taste as sweet as candy. But he’d been unprepared for the entirely luscious, decadent flavor of her — something far sweeter than he imagined, layered with depths he couldn’t begin to fathom.

  Much to his dismay, his mouth started to water every time he thought of kissing her. His arms ached to hold her. His ears longed to hear her voice, her laughter.

  How in the world would that ever happen when he had no idea if or when he’d ever set foot in Portland again?

  Chapter Eight

  “Have you heard any more news?” Billie asked as she stopped by the nurse’s station where a radio played nonstop since the Battle of Midway began a few days ago.

  “Nothing new,” Peggy said as she stood from the desk and patted Billie’s shoulder before she left on her rounds.

  Billie, like so many other Americans, waited anxiously
to hear if the United States would win the battle and prayed for the safekeeping of those engaged in the fight. She knew one of the Navy’s few carrier ships had been hit and abandoned. The battle-weary Yorktown had limped back to Pearl Harbor after the Battle of the Coral Sea only to be sent right back out again. She hoped the crew onboard at least had time to rest between battles.

  It was beyond her ability to comprehend how the men could function on so little sleep, sometimes little food, and often with an injury. The human body was capable of incredible feats, and it seemed like the war provided an opportunity to test the limits of what man could endure.

  Although she wasn’t in a front line hospital or medic tent, Billie had seen some terrible, horrible wounds in the past months. The visible, physical injuries were hard to bear, but it was the hidden wounds in the hearts, minds, and spirits of her patients that proved the hardest to heal.

  As she had so many times in the past few days, Billie closed her eyes and sent up prayers for the men in Midway, and all the men fighting in both the Pacific and Atlantic battles. She hated war, hated the devastation and destruction it brought, the way it split up families and left children without fathers, or both parents. Hated it all.

  But she loved her country and would do what she could to support the war efforts.

  She collected a handful of folders and returned them to their proper spots in a filing cabinet with one ear tuned to the radio. Her thoughts wandered to Zane, as they did with increasing frequency. Although she had no idea where he was, or if he was safe, she had the strangest feeling he was in danger.

  She knew he was based in Hawaii, but wondered if he’d been sent to Midway. The majority of those involved in the battle were from the Navy and the Marines, but she’d heard a few reports mention aircraft from the Army Air Force joining the fight. What if Zane was in one of those planes?

  Had he already been shot down? Was he injured? Taken prisoner?

  At the thought of him being tortured by the Japanese, she sank onto the desk chair, no longer able to stand on her wobbly legs. She couldn’t bear the thought of something tragic happening to him.