“No, sir.”
“Well, you’re going to one today.”
She didn’t know what he meant or what to say.
He pushed the plate away and stood. “I’ve been cooped up here too long. I need to get out, talk to the men.” He wiped his mouth with his handkerchief. “So, we’re heading over to the field, to see them come back. And you’re going with us.”
Kitty swallowed a bite of spam, trying not to choke on the half-chewed morsel. “Yes, sir, if that’s what you want.”
At his insistence, Kitty accompanied the general to the map room. Expecting to see maps on the walls, it surprised her to see men crowded around a huge table emblazoned with a map of Europe.
Curious, she moved closer so she could see what the men were doing. She easily found the English coast with colored and numbered triangles, squares, and circles that represented the air bases. Her gaze crossed the channel to the outline of the European coast. On the continent names of cities and lines representing rivers, railroads, and roads filled the space.
Soldiers, holding telephone receivers or reading from cards, moved numbered markers on the map of Europe like pieces on a game board. Some markers corresponded to the air field markings. Others she assumed were enemies.
On the far side an arm reached out to correct a young corporal’s marker placement. Her gaze followed the movement, and her head jerked back when she recognized Lieutenant Kruger. The hard line of his lips and his deeply furrowed brow reminded her that this game was deadly serious business. Lives were at stake. After a few seconds, he turned his back and picked up a telephone on a table in the corner. He listened, his head nodding, his body shifting from side to side unable to contain his nervous energy, while Kitty watched, fascinated.
General Lake moved around the room and spoke with another officer. Kitty retreated to a spot near the door, sensing herself out of place in this war room. She thought of going out and waiting in the hallway until General Lake finished. Would he mind? He’d wanted her to see this, and she’d expected him to explain what was going on. Instead, he had deserted her.
She glanced at the general, deep in conversation, then back to Ted who remained on the phone. Just then, Ted turned and their gazes met. She froze.
After what seemed an eternity but could only have been seconds, he nodded in her direction. She perceived a slight wrinkling around his eyes, an ever so subtle relaxation of his tightly held lips.
She returned the nod, careful to school her expression. All he needed to see was her acknowledgement of his presence, nothing more.
She glanced back at the general still in deep discussion. Ted must have followed her gaze, for when she looked back at him, he squinted as if asking a question. The phone recaptured his attention. He leaned down and started writing. He must have been taking a message from someone on the other end of the line.
The crowded, stuffy room closed in around her. Her pulse throbbed in her head. Her skin radiated heat. She shouldn’t be here, but she couldn’t leave until the general finished. She backed up against the wall by the door and resigned herself to waiting.
“Greenlee,” Colonel Snyder startled her.
“Yes, sir.”
“See that the general’s car is brought up. We will be leaving shortly.”
Grateful for something to do, Kitty replied, “Yes, sir,” and hurried to find the general’s driver. Along the way she wondered why General Lake had ordered her to accompany him today. This was more than just secretarial duties. It was as if he wanted her companionship, wanted to share more of his work with her. Or was she imagining more than was there?
****
Kitty sat in the front with the driver while they drove the short distance to the air field just off the narrow country road that led to the village. Inside the gate the now familiar Nissen huts and hastily constructed buildings lined the well-worn dirt road. Beyond stretched the long strips of pavement.
The driver turned and drove alongside the main runway toward a square building with a smaller square set on top of it. Windows covered three sides of the upper portion. A wooden stairway led to the roof of the main building, and a railing ran around the perimeter. Men stood atop the structure looking skyward and higher up, atop the glassed room, two soldiers searched the sky with binoculars.
Beyond the runway a group of men played baseball in the grass. Others milled around the building, restlessly waiting for something.
When the car stopped, the driver got out and opened the door for General Lake and Colonel Snyder. After the officers got out, the driver opened her door. She stepped onto the dirt road and stood next to the car, not sure what was expected of her.
“Sergeant.” General Lake waved for her to join him. He took her arm and led her toward the building while Colonel Snyder moved ahead and spoke with two officers.
“Sir?” she asked as she stood by the General’s side, painfully aware of heads turning in their direction.
“Stay close.” He squeezed her elbow and leaned closer. “The planes will be coming in soon, and when they do, it will get busy. We don’t want to get in anyone’s way, but I want you to see what it’s like.”
Kitty nodded. She didn’t understand why he wanted her here, why he wanted her to see the bombers return to base after their mission. None of the other WACs had been to the airfield, not even Captain Weatherby.
It quickly became evident to Kitty that a woman on the field was an unusual occurrence. Men in coveralls glared at her, more out of curiosity than hostility. Some tipped their hats, others grinned sheepishly, and others whispered among themselves. If the general had not been close by, perhaps they would have been friendlier. But they kept their distance from the brass.
It struck her as odd that none of the men snapped to attention or saluted. She’d never seen such informality on a military base.
General Lake introduced her to Colonel Ashley, the air field’s commander. “Brought her down to observe,” the general explained.
Colonel Ashley, dressed in a leather flight jacket with no indication of his rank, eyed her curiously but kept any thoughts he had to himself. He introduced two other officers, a captain and a major also wearing leather jackets, then suggested they go up to the “tower” for a better view.
She climbed the steep steps leading to the roof of the control tower following the officers. Colonel Ashley commented to General Lake that they were in radio contact with the squadron.
Someone yelled, “There they are!”
All heads turned skyward.
She shaded her eyes against the bright sun. Specks quickly grew into airplanes. They swarmed in like trained insects circling around overhead. Colored flares streaked through the sky reminding her of a Fourth of July celebration.
A voice above urged her to come on, so she ran the rest of the way up.
General Lake half pushed, half pointed her toward the railing. She grabbed hold and returned her gaze to the field just in time to see the first plane approach for a landing. The wheels of the huge plane touched the runway about fifty yards away, and as it skidded by, the brakes screeched. The scent of burning rubber assailed her as the bomber’s tires left long black streaks on the pavement.
The plane finally rolled to a stop near the end of the runway.
That’s when she saw the damage so extensive she wondered how it had flown at all. One of the long wings was ripped open. Smoke poured from the engine nearest the gash. Gaping holes in the bomber’s sides and tail varied from the size of a fist to ones she could have crawled through. She saw movement through the large rip in the tail and wondered how the men inside had survived.
Trucks sped down the runway. Dozens of men ran to the crippled bomber. An ambulance wailed by and pulled up beside the disabled plane. In the flurry of activity, she saw two men handed out of the belly of the bomber and loaded into the ambulance. Meanwhile a rig hitched onto the front wheel and pulled it off the main runway.
A roar caused her to jerk around. Another bomber
sped by, its wheels only inches from the ground. Its wingspan almost wider than the runway. This one had more control as it slowed and rolled to a stop close behind the one being towed.
Within moments, another plane landed. Then another and another.
“I’ve got seventeen,” someone said.
Kitty looked up to the bombers flying around above the field waiting to land. She tried to count them but kept losing track of the moving objects.
She heard General Lake ask, “How many went out?”
“Twenty-six,” Colonel Ashley replied in a flat, emotionless tone.
Kitty gasped. Nine planes lost. Her brain quickly calculated—nine into twenty-seven would be three—almost a third shot down. That was too many. She’d seen loss reports but never with losses that high.
“There’s two more,” someone shouted.
All eyes scanned the sky to the east. Two small dots just above the horizon.
“That must be Hatton and Dempsey. Both lost engines over the target. Fell behind.”
“That gets it up to nineteen,” Colonel Snyder remarked, the strain evident in his voice. “Seven missing.”
“Give ’em some time. There could be some more stragglers.” The calm, even tone made it clear Colonel Ashley had been through this anxious waiting before.
A plane skidded by. Kitty watched it spin around and leave the runway. It tilted over on the nose and one wing. She held her breath waiting for it to burst into flames. Men tumbled out. Trucks roared to the wreck with firefighting equipment ready.
She moved to the far corner of the roof to get a better look at the crashed plane.
“Thank goodness it hasn’t caught fire,” she heard herself mumble.
“They were probably out of fuel.” A young lieutenant stood nearby gripping a pair of binoculars.
“Oh,” she replied.
“You came with the general?”
“Yes…Yes, sir.” She started to salute, but he shook his head.
He looked back to the runway as another plane touched down.
“Here’s O’Leary. Looks like their luck held out.” Another airman nearby observed.
“Yep. Home for those lucky dogs,” the lieutenant added.
The bomber rolled by. “Luck O’ the Irish” adorned the nose above a naked lady holding a shamrock.
Kitty turned to the officer, curious about the comment. “What do you mean—home?”
“Finished twenty-five missions. That means they get to go home.” He laughed. “You haven’t been with the Air Force very long, have you?”
“A few weeks…in England.” She realized she should have known about the missions. “I’ve been at wing headquarters. This is my first time at an airfield.” She wanted to explain further, but their faces told her that she already looked foolish enough, so she decided to stop talking.
The lieutenant glanced around then leaned closer. “The way the old man watches you, I’d say he’s pretty possessive.” He winked. “If you know what I mean.”
Heat crept from her core to her face. “No,” she muttered, clinching her fist tight, “I don’t know.”
He looked a little startled at her response. “Okay.” He held up his hand, then turned and walked away. The other airman followed him, eyeing her over his shoulder.
“Greenlee.” Colonel Snyder waved for her to come.
Relieved, she followed the colonel down the stairs. General Lake stood by the car waiting for them. She hoped they were heading back to headquarters. She’d seen enough.
The car fell in behind a truck carrying just returned airmen. Dressed in heavy clothing, the men looked exhausted. When the truck stopped beside a small building, the men climbed down like they were in their nineties and barely able to move. How long they had been flying to look so tired out?
The driver pulled the car into the narrow space between buildings and jumped out to open doors. Another truck stopped behind them to unload its passengers.
General Lake guided her inside a frame building. He directed her to sit near the door and wait for him. Uncomfortable, not as much from being the only female in the room as from feeling out of place among dog-tired men who had risked their lives, she tried to become invisible, to fade into the woodwork and not intrude in their very masculine world.
Some of the men still wore lined jackets and heavy woolen pants. She couldn’t distinguish ranks from the assortment of clothing. Most had similar markings on their faces, around their eyes and mouth where they had been wearing goggles and oxygen masks during their flight. One man had a bandage on the side of his face. She wondered if he had been wounded on the mission.
Snatches of conversation reached her ears.
“Did you see any chutes?”
“When my oxygen froze up…”
“Little friends never showed up.”
“Flack over Dunkirk…”
“…Confirmed kill…”
“Thought his wing was coming in my window.”
“…gun jammed…”
“never had a chance.”
“Can’t believe they’re gone.”
“Tail shot off…”
“Can’t send us out again tomorrow.”
Some sounded unemotional, drained. Other voices were animated, almost frantic. Cigarette smoke filled the room as men chain smoked while they waited to be interrogated by the intelligence officers. Men who’d completed their interviews shouldered their way through to the outside.
Kitty soaked up their exhaustion, their anxiety, their loss. How do they do it twenty-five times? How do they cope with losing their friends? Where do they go to escape?
She thought of Ted. How many times had he gone through this ordeal? And his crew, how did he deal with their loss? Sammy said he was grieving, that he used humor to hide his feelings. Was there more to him than she had seen?
****
Kitty lay on her cot listening to the gentle rain pattering on the metal roof of the hut. She could still see the faces of the airmen. Tired, strained, grateful to be on solid ground, yet fearful knowing they would have to go back into the sky, into the danger zone above Europe.
For the first time she had really seen the war, up close and personal. Even here in England, it had been something far away, something on newsreels and in newspapers. Today she had seen it in their faces.
“Why so solemn?”
Kitty opened her eyes.
Madge stood nearby in her robe, her hair wrapped in a snood.
Kitty swung her legs around and sat up. She took a deep breath and wondered how she could explain what she’d seen.
“I was just thinking about the men I saw at the airfield today.”
“Were any of them good looking?” Madge sat beside her on the cot.
“I don’t know.” Kitty shook her head. Her friend wouldn’t understand. She hadn’t been there. “They were exhausted, at least the returning crews were. The others were…I don’t know…worried, anxious.”
“But why? What’s so disturbing about watching planes land?”
Kitty pressed her lips together. There was no point in getting angry at her friend. She hadn’t been there. “One of the planes almost crashed when it landed. And there were wounded men in some of them.”
“Oh.” Madge’s face fell.
Kitty attempted to explain further. “They sent out twenty-six planes. Only nineteen came back.” She let that sink in before continuing. “You’ve seen the casualty figures. Seven planes lost means seventy men.”
“I didn’t realize,” Madge murmured, her frowning face said more than her words.
“Those men saw their friends go down.”
Sally and Gail heard them talking and sat on the opposite cot. Sally asked, “What did they say?”
Kitty thought about the conversations she overheard. She hadn’t talked to any of them directly. Instead she’d waited while General Lake sat in on the interrogations. She couldn’t help overhearing the men talk as they waited their turn.
“D
id you see Osgood get hit?”
“Our tail gunner saw it.”
“Anybody get out?”
Their silence told her the answer.
“It wasn’t so much what they said as how they said it,” Kitty explained.
“Were they upset?”
“Some were nervous. Others were quiet, stoic. But their faces—I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Sally and Gail exchanged a glance. Kitty could tell that they didn’t really understand.
“There was one bright spot. One of the crews finished their twenty-five missions.”
“What does that mean?”
“Apparently they are required to fly twenty-five missions. Then they get to go home.” She looked around to see if they understood. “One of the lieutenants told me it’s something we should know as part of the Air Force.”
“How many make it?” Madge asked.
“I don’t know. I guess we could look at the numbers. Those reports we do have all the information. I never really understood what it meant…until today.”
“Geez, I guess I never thought about it either.” Sally’s sentimental streak made her voice crack when she got emotional.
“Didn’t I hear you say you saw a plane crash?” Gail asked.
Kitty nodded. “One skidded off the runway and tipped over. It wasn’t so bad. Everyone got out okay. Another one almost didn’t get stopped. It was pretty shot up, and they took two men away in the ambulance.”
Sally shook her head sympathetically, then stood. “Almost time for lights out.”
The others stood and moved toward their bunks. Kitty unbuttoned her blouse. No shower tonight, not with the rain. The comforting thoughts of warm water sluicing over her tired body weren’t enough to send her venturing out in this steady, cold drizzle. She’d settle for washing her face in the water they kept warm on the stove.
After a cursory washing, she changed into her regulation pajamas and crawled under multiple blankets to ward off the damp air. Madge settled in the next cot as the lights went out.
“Madge,” Kitty whispered.
“Yes?”
“How does General Lake look at me?”
“What do you mean?”
Kitty's War Page 11
