The Widow's Choice

by Gilbert, Morris

  Hack Odom was a short man built like a beer keg. He had bristly black hair that he kept cut short and always needed a shave—or seemed to. His face, which reminded Lloyd of a bulldog, was broad, tough, and scarred—a broken nose and a cauliflower ear testifying to a violent past. He had played football for the navy and could have gone into the pros, but he was a navy man to the bone.

  “Sit down, Hack. I’ve got a problem.”

  “You’ve got more than one, Commander.” Hack grinned. “You’ve got the whole Japanese Navy to get rid of.”

  “You’re right about that, and not enough manpower or equipment to do it with. How is your squadron looking?”

  “A bit spotty. The boys are all hopped up about the Japs, but they think the way to answer that is to pour on the coal. Don’t think that’ll work too well.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right about that, Hack. They’ve got us outgunned.”

  “But they didn’t get our carriers at Pearl,” Hack said quickly. “That’s the good news.”

  “They’re the only thing that can save our bacon. We both know that. We’re going to meet up with them sooner or later. This will be a carrier war in the Pacific. Battleships don’t count anymore.”

  Hack laughed. “I know some admirals who would have you busted for saying a thing like that, sir.”

  “Old fossils! Should have been put on the beach years ago.”

  “Well, General Billy Mitchell tried to reform the navy. You know what happened to him.”

  The two men sat silently for a moment, thinking about the man who had had the right idea but was too early for the brass above him.

  “I wish we had Billy back with us now,” Lloyd Baker said wistfully. “We could use him.”

  “Sure could. But we’ve got some good boys coming up. They just need the whip. It’s funny. I see these young guys coming in, and it’s like when I go to a doctor now. I put my life in a kid’s hand who looks like he ought to be taking up tickets at a movie theater.”

  “It takes young fellows to fly the Dauntless. You know that better than I do, Hack.”

  The two men reminisced for a time, and all the while Hack Odom was aware that his commanding officer was holding something back. Finally he grinned and said, “You’re trying to give me some bad news, sir. Why don’t you just give it to me and be done with it?”

  Baker returned the grin. “Am I that easy to read? Remind me never to play poker with you.” He rocked back and forth in his chair a few times and then stopped himself. “I’ve got a problem, but it’s not necessarily a bad problem.”

  “It’s a good problem, then.”

  “It could be good. Have you ever heard of Jason Moran?”

  “Don’t believe I have. Who is he?”

  “He was a pilot. He flew under me when I was a squadron commander just like you are now. He sailed through our whole program at the top of his class. Best flier I ever saw, Hack.”

  “Better than me?”

  “Nobody’s better than you, but he could have been.”

  “What happened?”

  “He had some tough luck. That fellow could put the bomb on the target better than any flier I’ve ever seen. It was almost like magic. Give Jason a plane and a bomb, and he could put it right down a smoke stack no more than two feet wide.”

  “It sounds like the kind of fellow we need. Where is he?”

  “He’s here on the base. He wants to join up again.”

  “So what’s the problem? If he can put the bomb on the target—”

  “There’s more to it than that. He crashed his plane, Hack. Mechanical failure. It wasn’t his fault, but after that he lost his nerve.”

  Odom frowned. “Lots of fellows have problems with that, especially after a bad crash.”

  “It really wasn’t that bad. He walked out of the wreckage with a couple bruises and scratches. I was with him the next day when we put him in a new plane. He couldn’t do it.”

  “What do you mean he couldn’t do it?”

  “He couldn’t even take off, Hack. The rest of us went on our mission, and Moran just sat there on the ground. When I came back, I saw he was a mess. His hands were shaking, and I’d never seen that before. He had always been real cool. Never nervous. I asked him what was the matter.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He couldn’t say anything except, ‘I can’t do it.’ ”

  “What? That’s all?”

  “Yep. But we kept him around. I talked to him. We had the shrinks talk to him. He was fine until he got into the cockpit, and then he would begin to tremble. Couldn’t do a thing.”

  “What did you do with him?”

  “What could I do? He washed out, of course. He only had a few months to serve. He left. I lost track of him—that is, until he walked into my office yesterday. He wants to join up again.”

  “Has he been up since his problem started?”

  “He says not. Of course I told him we couldn’t use a pilot that couldn’t take off.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “He didn’t argue. He said, ‘I’d like another chance, but if you won’t take me, I’ll go into the infantry.’ ”

  “I guess Pearl Harbor changed his mind. Changed a lot of minds.”

  “I suppose so. I told him he’d have to prove himself before I’d take him.”

  “And you want me to check him out. Is that right, sir?”

  “That’s right.”

  “That shouldn’t be any trouble. He either can take off or he can’t. Where is he?”

  “He’s out on the field. I got him geared up, and he’s waiting.”

  “Okay. I’ll go see if he can get off the ground.”

  “I hope he makes it. He’s a likable fellow, Hack. But more important than that, we need every man we can get, and we need them right now! The old Moran I knew would be ready to go. So go put him in a plane.”

  “Yes, sir, I will, and I’ll report back. It may not take long.”

  “I hope he makes it. We need men like that, at least men like he was. I’ll be anxious to hear your report, Hack.”

  * * *

  Jason had donned his flight suit and waited in the shade of the building. The pilots were laughing and joking; some of them glanced at him curiously but said nothing.

  “Moran?”

  He got up at once and saluted the short, stocky officer who was wearing flight gear. “Jason Moran, sir.”

  “I’m Captain Hack Odom, the squadron leader. I’ve been talking to Commander Baker. He tells me you have a problem.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ve had a problem.”

  “What makes you think you can fly now? You couldn’t the last time you were in a plane.”

  “I don’t know that I can.”

  Odom stared at the young man. Moran was pale and obviously tense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I won’t know if I can fly until I get in an airplane.”

  “We don’t have time for psychological treatment here, Moran. We’re going on a training mission. We’ll be dropping our bombs on a target. You’ve been through all that before.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “No sense talking, then. You either can or you can’t. Let’s go.”

  Jason walked across the field. The concrete was blisteringly hot under his feet, and the sun was blazing down. They approached one of the planes, and Captain Odom said, “Turner, take a break.”

  Lieutenant Turner looked surprised but merely nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said. “If you want to eat something, tell me what it is and I’ll go eat it for you.”

  “Get out of here.” Odom laughed shortly and then addressed Jason. “You take this ship and fly on my right wing.” He went on to show him a photo of the training area and showed him where he should drop his bomb.

  As Odom went to his own plane, something like an invisible cloud settled over Jason. He was aware of the planes, of the roar of engines, of the shouts of the men to their mechanics, of the white clouds drifting
lazily across the sky, but he felt almost detached from the situation. His mind kept trying to go back to the moment before impact when he had crashed. He half expected his hands to begin to tremble and perspiration to break out all over his face, but somehow that did not happen. A sergeant was at his side and asked, “Are you ready, sir?”

  Jason glanced around to see that the other pilots were climbing into their planes. He said, “Yes, sergeant.” He got into the plane, and the sergeant checked his harness. He was conscious of the parachute pressing against him, of the controls and the stick. He automatically checked the instruments and throttled up the engine.

  “Good luck, sir!” the sergeant yelled and disappeared. Suddenly a voice blasted into his ear through the radio in his helmet. “Ready for takeoff!”

  Jason gripped the throttle and waited for the mindless terror to overtake him as it had the last time he had sat in the cockpit of a Dauntless.

  But it did not come! Expertly he advanced the throttle, and the Dauntless stirred under his touch. He glanced out and saw the squadron leader, Hack Odom, watching from another plane. He nodded, and Odom returned the nod. Then Jason moved his aircraft forward.

  As Jason taxied into position to begin his takeoff, he kept waiting for the old fear to paralyze him. He expected it. He was going through this mainly because he had promised Alona he would, but now as the plane began to gain speed, he felt an emotion he had not felt since he had flown before the accident. It was joy and exhilaration.

  “It’s all gone! I’m not afraid!” he said aloud, forgetting that his radio was open.

  Hack Odom’s voice came crackling into his ear. “Keep off the radio, Moran! Nobody cares whether you’re afraid or not. Now, follow me.”

  The Dauntless was obedient in his hands. Jason took off smoothly and jammed himself immediately under the right wing of the squadron leader.

  “Get out of my pocket, will you!” Odom snapped. “We’re not flying closed formations.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The sky was large and spacious, and as Jason rose up along with his squadron, following the formations Captain Odom was putting them through, he began to praise God. I know this is you, O Lord, and I thank you for it. I know it was the prayers of others that brought me here. Thank you for taking away the fear. Help me to serve with honor and to always remember that you have not given us the spirit of fear.

  He gunned the engine, and ten minutes later dropped his bomb right on target. He held it until the last possible moment, pulled out with a screaming of engines, and felt the lightness of his head as he was pulled back into the seat. He resumed his formation, and he saw Hack Odom give him a thumbs-up.

  * * *

  “How did he do, Hack?”

  “Why, there was nothin’ to it. He got in that airplane and stayed right with us as we went through some pretty rough formations. And then when we dropped the bombs, he was right on target.”

  “Did you talk to him?”

  “Sure did. As soon as we landed. I never saw a fellow so happy. He kept saying that he wasn’t afraid. I think he’s some kind of religious nut. He said God took away all his fear.”

  “He’s probably right.”

  “Maybe so. Anyway, I checked him out every way I can think of. He may be the best pilot I’ve got right now.”

  “Good. We’re going to need him.”

  “You think it’ll be soon?”

  “I think the Japs will move across the Pacific with everything they’ve got, and we’re all this country’s got to stop them.”

  ****

  When Alona picked up the phone and said hello, the person on the other end didn’t bother with greetings.

  “Alona, it worked! I can fly!”

  “Jason, that’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Tell me all about it.”

  She listened as the words tumbled out of him. He could hardly speak fast enough. “It was all your prayers that did it. I know it was.”

  “And others were praying for you too, Jason.”

  “But you were the first. You were the one who talked me into it. I’m so happy, Alona. Everything’s different now.”

  She felt a sudden twinge. “What will happen now, Jason?”

  “Well, since I’ve already had my training, I won’t be here at the base very long.”

  “You’ll be . . . you’ll be leaving?”

  “Oh, sure. But don’t worry. I’m with a good squadron. Got a good squadron leader. There are good men here. It’s exactly what I needed to do. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again.”

  Fear gripped Alona as she realized she had put him in harm’s way. If something should happen . . .”Be careful, Jason. Please promise that you will.”

  He laughed. “Okay. I promise. Now, tell me what’s going on at home.”

  She told him about the boys. “Tim painted a picture of Helen on her filly. It’s very good. Mrs. Arnette has entered it into a national contest. She thinks it has a good chance to win.”

  “I hope so. What about . . . what about Oscar?”

  “Well, he’s doing all right. His heart is still not very strong, and he got a huge order from the army for the foundry. They’ve started working double shifts now and may put on a third.”

  “Oscar never knew how to do anything halfway. Try to make him take care of himself.”

  “I try, but you know your brother.”

  “Alona, I’m going to write him a letter and tell him again how much I appreciate him. He’s done a lot for me. Do you think it’ll be all right if I write to you?”

  She hesitated. “I don’t know, Jason.”

  “I just thought it would be nice to tell somebody what’s happening to me, and I’d like to hear about the boys.”

  “I . . .I suppose that would be all right.”

  “Alona, I know I shouldn’t have told you how I felt about you. I wasn’t thinking. But I don’t want it to be a burden to you. I’ll never mention it again.”

  “No, you mustn’t, Jason.”

  “I promise. But do write to me and tell me all about what’s happening.”

  There was a moment of silence then, both of them very much aware of the dangerous world into which Jason Moran was moving.

  “I’ll pray for you every day,” she said quietly.

  “Thank you, Alona. Good-bye for now.”

  “Good-bye.” She hung up the phone, and a heavy spirit settled on her. She realized it was not going to leave until the war was over and Jason was safely back home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “I Never Gave Death a Thought”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Moran. You don’t have enough coupons left to get all of your groceries.”

  Alona picked up her ration book and frantically thumbed through it. “I was sure I had enough.”

  The grocer shook his head regretfully. “I’d like to help you out, but you know how it is with the government these days. They’re watching over these ration stamps like they were money.”

  Alona had not yet become accustomed to the new rationing system the government had imposed. Each person in a household was given a book with stamps in it, and now it was necessary at the grocery store not only to have money, but also the stamps. She was fortunate with her three boys to have enough of the stamps, as a rule, but she had left two of the books at home.

  “Couldn’t you let me give you the stamps the next time I come?”

  “I’d like to, ma’am, but they’re pretty strict. There’s a war on, you know.”

  Alona gave Stevens a hard look. “Yes, I know,” she said curtly. “But somehow I don’t think it’s going to make a great difference in the outcome if you let me bring you the stamps next time.”

  “But if I let you get by, I’d have to let everybody else. I’m sure sorry, but rules are rules.”

  “Very well. Take all the groceries out that I don’t have stamps for,” Alona said in a resigned tone. She watched as the clerk removed several items. “Will that make you happy?”

 
; “Really it ain’t me, Mrs. Moran.”

  “Oh, I know it. I’m sorry. I guess the war news has made me gloomy.”

  “It ain’t good, is it? I thought our boys would do better.”

  “Well, you have to remember that we weren’t prepared for this. Our troops were ill armed and not ready for what the Japanese are throwing at them.”

  Gathering her purchases, Alona left the store. She put the groceries in the car, then drove directly to the church. When she got there, she went inside and found Pastor Sandifer in his office.

  When he looked up, his eyes grew bright, and he got to his feet. “Alona, I’m glad to see you. Come in and sit down. I was going to come by and visit with you later today.”

  “As you know, I’ve been directing the choir now that Brother Paul has joined the army,” she said as she sat down. “I was wondering if you’ve had any success in finding a permanent replacement for him.”

  “I’ve got a lead on a young woman who might do very well for us, although she’s reluctant to leave the church where she directs now until the end of the school year.”

  “She’s probably right that April isn’t a good time to take a new position. I’d be happy to work with the choir until we go on break for the summer.”

  “That would be excellent, Alona. I appreciate your willingness to do that.”

  The two chatted about the affairs of the church, and eventually their conversation turned to the war. “Things look pretty grim in the Pacific,” Brother Byron said. “Have you heard from Jason?”

  “Yes, I have. Just a V-mail. You can’t say much on that little sheet of paper. Several of his sentences were scratched out by the censor.”

  “He wrote me too. Thanked me for what the church had meant to him. He sure sounds like a different man, doesn’t he?”

  “I believe he is a different man. He was always so beaten down and cowed, and now when I read in the papers about all the fierce fighting that’s going on, I can’t help being afraid for him.”

  “It is hard,” Sandifer said, nodding. “Nobody knows exactly what’s happening, but one thing for sure, there’s going to be a big battle someday when our carriers meet up with those Jap carriers.”