Kitty's War

by Barbara Whitaker

  ****

  Kitty focused on her typing. In her absence, General Lake had held on to his daily notes not trusting her replacements to decipher them properly. And since he insisted on everything being typed, she had returned to a mountain of paperwork. On top of that, Captain Weatherby had rotated several girls to give them experience working for the general, so the filing was a mess.

  Oh, well. I might as well work late and get caught up. No one will miss me.

  She recognized the “oh poor me” syndrome, but she couldn’t shake it. Why should she? The only people who cared were Milton and Ted, and both of them were beyond her reach.

  Even General Lake had been distant since her return. He was unusually preoccupied, which was unlike his usual calm, friendly manner. Even the heightened stress of the invasion had barely disturbed his steady hand. This was different. Something was going on.

  His aide mentioned that he’d been called to Eighth Air Force Headquarters during her absence, and he’d come back all worked up and mysterious.

  “Sergeant.”

  Kitty jerked. Her fingers clanked the keys, locking up her typewriter.

  She looked up.

  “Sorry to startle you. I thought you heard me calling you.”

  “No, sir. I’m sorry. I was focused on this…” She looked down at the little arms locked together so neither could strike the ribbon. She reached into the mechanism to release them when he spoke again.

  “Greenlee.” Impatience added an edge of forcefulness. “Come into my office. Now.”

  “Oh. Yes, sir.” Kitty reached for her pad and pencil, jumped up, and followed the general into his office. On the way she noticed the ink on her fingers and wished she’d grabbed her handkerchief.

  Many of the officers who had streamed in and out of the general’s office all morning stood or sat in various places around the office.

  “Now, gentlemen, Sergeant Greenlee will take notes. I want to send out a memo to everyone under my command. But before I do, I want all of us to be in agreement.”

  Kitty quickly took the chair offered to her and flipped to a blank page in her pad. She headed the page with the date, General Lake’s name, and began listing the other attendees. Obviously impatient to begin, the general started dictating, so she skipped a space to fill in the names later and began taking dictation.

  What started out sounding routine quickly transformed into a shocking development, at least it shocked her. Apparently all the others already knew about it.

  General Lake had been ordered to report to Eighth Air Force Headquarters to assume the responsibilities of another officer. The Second Combat Bombardment Wing would be turned over to Colonel Snyder who would be promoted to Lieutenant General. One of the group commanders would move into Colonel Snyder’s position and various other personnel changes would be made by Colonel Snyder.

  When General Lake stated he would be leaving the next day, her head jerked up. For a few seconds she lost her place. The general caught her gaze and paused long enough for her to get hold of herself.

  It took a great deal of effort for Kitty to force herself to look back down at her pad and focus on her shorthand. She must capture every word. She couldn’t slip up now, not when her future hung in the balance. Colonel Snyder didn’t like her. He would make sure she returned to the group of stenographers. She could only pray he wouldn’t retaliate against her for the general’s favors. As commanding officer, he could make her life miserable.

  The meeting ended, and Kitty returned to her desk to type up the notes and a draft of the general’s memo. Her fingers shook as she rolled a fresh piece of paper into her machine and started to type.

  “Sergeant.” The general’s voice was gentler this time.

  She looked up. “Yes, sir.”

  “Come back into my office a moment.”

  “Yes, sir.” She drew a deep breath and rose. Automatically she reached for her pad.

  “You won’t need that.”

  “Sir?”

  “Just come in for a minute.”

  She followed him into the office. He stood by the door and closed it once she was inside. All the others had gone. A moment of panic seized her. What was he going to do?

  He walked past her and waved toward a chair. “Sit down.”

  She sank into the chair and waited for him to speak. Maybe he would just thank her for her hard work.

  “I know it was a shock to you, hearing that I’m being transferred.”

  She nodded, unable to speak. Somehow she knew whatever he had to say to her would be bad, very bad.

  “You’ve worked very hard, and you’ve done an excellent job.” He paused. “I must admit I was a little outdone with you for lying to me about your brother. Being honest is a virtue, even when it is uncomfortable.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m very sorry, sir.” She tried to sound contrite even though she knew she would probably do the same thing again.

  “Never the less, you’ve done an excellent job. I don’t think I realized just how much you were doing until you were gone. None of the others could keep up or understand me. You always know what I’m trying to say.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “That’s why I made some inquiries.”

  Kitty watched his face, tried to read his thoughts.

  He placed his elbows on the desk and leaned forward until his chin rested on his fists. “I have a proposition for you.”

  Her heart raced. “Sir?”

  “If you want, you can come with me.”

  “Sir?” Kitty was confused.

  “To High Wycombe. Eighth Air Force Headquarters. As my secretary.” He straightened up. “You don’t have to give me an answer now. It’s strictly voluntary. But think about it. You’d be at headquarters just outside of London. Might get another stripe out of it. Although I can’t guarantee that. It’d be a great opportunity.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  He smiled. “That’s what I expected.” He stood and turned to walk around the desk. “I’d like to take you with me. You’d be of enormous help. After all, that’s what you’re here for isn’t it? To help the war effort?”

  “Yes, sir.” He stood by her now, and she realized she was supposed to leave.

  “You’ll have to give me your answer by in the morning. Sorry I can’t give you more time, but the war won’t wait.” He laughed nervously, like he knew his joke was lame, but he said it anyway.

  Still in shock, she shuffled toward the door. “Yes, sir. Tomorrow, sir.”

  He opened the door. “Now get those things typed up as soon as you can.”

  “Yes, sir.” Kitty moved automatically to her desk. She sat behind her typewriter and stared straight ahead. Her mind was still trying to digest what he had said.

  He wanted her to go with him to Eighth Air Force Headquarters. He was leaving tomorrow. He wanted an answer by in the morning. Help the war effort.

  He was right about that. She’d come to England to do her part to help win this war. Now more than ever she wanted to do that. And if that meant going with General Lake then that’s what she would do. After all, what did she have here? Ted was at the air base near Norwich. Madge hated her, and her other friends had become cool toward her. Starting over somewhere else might be the best thing. She might even be closer to Milton and be able to visit him.

  Her mind raced ahead to all the changes, to what might be in her future. General Lake had been good to her. He’d actually been easy to work for. And he appreciated her work. Unlike Colonel Snyder. The decision was easy. Of course she’d go.

  ****

  Ted stared at the blank page. His supply of paper and envelopes were stacked on the table beside him, evidence of his intention to honor his promise to write to Kitty. A promise that was easier to give than to actually do. He had no idea how to write to the woman he loved.

  The letters he’d written before had been brief notes. But now, things were different between Kitty and him. He wanted to tell her eve
rything, his every thought, his every feeling. He couldn’t do that. It wasn’t reasonable, and he didn’t have enough paper.

  “Wow!” Sparky Stone plopped onto the bunk beside him. “Must be really serious. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you write a letter before.”

  “Me either,” Billy chimed in. The officer stood nearby holding a mug of questionable contents.

  “Lay off, fellows,” Ted retorted.

  “Who ya’ writing?” Sparky asked.

  “None of your business.”

  “Oh, it’s gonna be that way, is it?”

  “It’s a girl. Okay?”

  “Kruger, writing to a girl. What happened? Did one finally get her hooks into you?” Sparky persisted.

  “Wouldn’t be that pin-up at headquarters, would it? Thought you broke up with her.” Billy had a way of getting to Ted, always jabbing him when he got the chance.

  “No, it’s not Madge.” Ted gritted his teeth in an attempt to control his urge to blurt out Kitty’s name.

  “Then who? Must be hot to get you putting words on paper.”

  Ted gathered up his things and stood. “I think I’ll go somewhere else to do this. Somewhere where I can think.”

  “Okay, lover boy. But keep us informed how you do. One of us might want to try her out when you’re through with her.”

  Ted forced himself to leave before he punched someone. He couldn’t bear to hear comments like that about Kitty. It had never bothered him before—joking about his girlfriends, bragging about his prowess with the ladies. But Kitty was different. She was a nice girl—his nice girl. And he wanted to protect her.

  He headed for the base chapel. The one place he could count on to be quiet. He could be alone, and he could write without worry of being interrupted.

  The door creaked as he entered. The room wasn’t very big. Chairs lined up to face the simple altar. He hadn’t been inside a church since high school when he’d gone with his grandparents. Memories of their love and the stable home they had given him flooded back. How could he have turned his back on the only people who loved him? He’d been young and rebellious, determined to make his own way with no one to hold him back. Six years and a lifetime of experience changed his perspective.

  He looked at the writing materials and vowed to not only write Kitty but to also write to his grandparents. And maybe he’d write to his mother, too.

  ****

  Kitty quickly oriented herself to the office and the WAC quarters in High Wycombe. Helping General Lake settle into his new job proved more challenging. He found himself in a smaller office and one of many generals working together to coordinate the activities of a huge organization spread all over England.

  This new role proved very different from running a combat wing. He had to adjust to working in committees, sitting in endless meetings, and focusing on organizational issues. Giving the orders, being the one in charge, had been easier.

  To help him prepare, Kitty gathered information on everything from number of personnel and aircraft to fuel usage and supply depots. She found it fascinating.

  The other WACs in the office were helpful but a little distant. Whenever Kitty asked, they provided her with assistance in a very professional and impersonal way. In the barracks the girls were friendly enough. They exchanged small talk and helped her in a more friendly fashion than in camps stateside. Yet they all kept their distance. They didn’t want to get too close. After thinking about it a while, Kitty decided she preferred keeping to herself, too. She’d learned that getting close could cause problems. Right now she wanted to focus on work. After all, they were all here to help win the war.

  She wrote to Ted to give him her new address. His letters would find her eventually. He’d promised to write, and in her heart she knew he wouldn’t break his promise.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  July 7, 1944

  Dear Grandpapa and Grandmama,

  I’ve met the most wonderful girl. She is in the WAC and comes from a small town in Tennessee. Practically one of your neighbors. She’s quiet and smart, just the type you would want for me. I’ve gone out with lots of girls, but this one is different. I met her brother, too. He is in the infantry and a real nice guy. He was wounded, can’t say when or how, but I sure hope he will be okay. I’m still flying. Not too many more missions to go.

  Sorry I haven’t written more. I promised Kitty (that’s her nick name) I’d write her, and so I decided I should write you more often, too. Her real name is Katherine Greenlee. Remember that name. If I make it through this thing, I’ll bring her to meet you.

  I’m enclosing a souvenir I want you to keep for me. They call it a “short snorter.” Not sure why. It’s a dollar bill that everyone on my crew signed after we made the flight over here. They’re all gone now, all but me. So put this in a safe place for me. I don’t want to lose it or accidentally spend it. Ha! Ha! It means too much to me to ever spend.

  I think of you often even though I don’t write much. Thanks for being there for me when I needed you.

  Your grandson,

  Ted

  ****

  “Welcome aboard,” First Lieutenant Sikes offered Ted his hand.

  Ted shook it firmly. “Thanks. Glad to join you.” And he really meant it. Assigned to this seasoned crew he’d already flown with made facing his last few flights a little easier. Maybe he would survive after all.

  “You know everyone, I think.”

  “Yes.” Ted shook hands with the co-pilot, “Pete” Peterson.

  “Good to have you with us,” the bombardier slapped him on the shoulder. “How many missions do you have left?”

  “Six, counting today.”

  “Most of us need eight more. Sure will be glad to get it over with.”

  “Yeah,” Ted agreed. He didn’t really want to talk about it for fear they would be jinxed.

  “Poor Eddie and his busted eardrums. Doc’s grounded him for a least a month, maybe longer,” Peterson said as they filed into the briefing room and found seats. “I told him to work it and see if he couldn’t get permanently grounded.”

  Ted sandwiched in between Peterson and Sikes as the co-pilot continued. “Eddie just couldn’t take the altitude.” He reached across Ted and punched Sikes in the arm. “’Member how he screamed like a banshee when we took that dive last time out.”

  Ted grimaced and shook his head. “Poor guy.” These men cared about each other. That would make his last few missions more tolerable.

  “Pipe down,” Sikes ordered. “They’re getting ready to start.”

  The Operations Officer appeared at the front of the room and banged the podium to get their attention. Soon he unveiled the map. Their target for the day—Germany.

  Ted straightened in his seat and focused on the officer’s description of the mission. He had a job to do. His new crew depended on him, and he wouldn’t let them down.

  ****

  The bombardier talked incessantly until they donned their oxygen masks. Ted liked the guy but found himself grateful for the silence imposed by the need for oxygen at altitude. The co-pilot checked with each crew member regularly via the intercom so it wasn’t absolute silence. Just enough to calm his nerves and let him pretend it was a routine training mission.

  Since the short, but intense time he spent with Kitty, he thought more and more about what he wanted to do after the war. He loved flying. It was definitely an option. Yet it would mean being away from home a lot. Home. He’d never really thought about having a home—until now. With Kitty he could actually imagine a home, a family, settling down in one place. The question was how to make a living.

  He’d read in the Stars and Stripes about the GI Bill Congress had passed. Maybe he could use that and go to college. Kitty went to college. She had even taught school. She’d confessed that she didn’t like teaching and wanted to do something different. He was convinced she could do anything she set her mind to.

  “Flack ahead,” warned the co-pilot.

 
Ted looked through the Plexiglas surrounding the bombardier. Black puffs filled the sky ahead. The plane just above and in front of them bounced from the concussion of an explosion that just missed them.

  Ted tensed. His heart pounded in his chest. No matter how many missions he flew, he’d never get used to the feeling, moving through the sky like a duck in a shooting gallery, hoping the gunners below missed their mark.

  The plane shook as explosions sent shock waves through it. A memory flashed through his brain. His body tensed as if preparing for the intense pain of shrapnel ripping through his thigh. Instinctively his hand went to his leg.

  Shake it off. You’ve been through this lots of times. And getting hit once doesn’t mean you’ll get it again.

  Ted gripped his small desk to keep his charts and instruments in place. His jaw clamped so tight he expected to crack a molar. He looked around. The bombardier was holding on for dear life, too. Ted nodded to him. Knowing he wasn’t alone helped get him through the terror and kept him sane.

  Finally, they cleared the flack field, and the tension eased.

  The pilot called to confirm their heading so Ted focused on his charts.

  Do your job. This is a good crew. As long as everyone does their job, we’ll get through this okay.

  He gave the pilot the needed information. Then the co-pilot asked him to verify their position based on landmarks. With limited visibility from his small window, Ted disconnected his oxygen line and connected to a walk-around bottle so he could move forward into the bombardier’s area and survey the landscape below. It didn’t take long to get his bearings and confirm their position.

  Ted chuckled to himself as he headed back to his seat. He’d learned why Peterson was so paranoid about their location. On a previous flight they’d blindly followed the lead plane and gotten so far off course they missed their target entirely. A flock of fighters had attacked the off-course squadron and only a few made it back to England. Peterson never wanted to be in that situation again. And Ted didn’t blame him.

  When he got back to his seat, his parachute caught on the back of the chair. Ted jerked it loose and started to take it off rather than sit on the uncomfortable mass. After all, he’d flown lots of missions with the parachute crammed under the seat. Something told him to keep it on. He thought of Kitty, the angel watching over him, and smiled. Was she sending him messages? Was she trying to keep him safe? What the hell! He’d wear the thing—just for her.