For Love and Country

by Candace Waters

  Hoyt’s lip curled, as if he were briefly relishing the thought of dispensing with Lottie by sending her up in a faulty plane.

  But then he shook his head. “This is a matter of life or death,” he said. “We just can’t risk it.”

  “It is a matter of life or death,” Lottie broke in. “For those men out there. And there are at least ten of them. Isn’t it worth risking one life if we could save all of them?”

  Hoyt’s eyes narrowed. “None of my pilots are at risk now,” he said. “And those men out there on the water—” For the first time since he’d walked into the hangar, Lottie thought she saw a flicker of humanity in his gaze. “We don’t know any of them are still alive. Or that they still will be when they get there, even if they are now. I can’t risk my men’s life on the chance.”

  “But—” Lottie protested.

  Hoyt held up his hand. “These are the realities of war, miss,” he said, with an emphasis on the miss. “I don’t expect you to understand. But this plane won’t be flying today. You can continue with whatever work this unit was supposed to be doing, before someone came up with this crackpot plan.”

  “Sir—” Cunningham tried, but Hoyt was already striding out of the hangar.

  Lottie felt hot tears come to her eyes, but at the same time, the eyes of every man in the place now turned to her. She couldn’t even blink them back without their seeing how upset she was. So instead, she raised her chin and took a deep breath.

  Then Cunningham cleared his throat.

  “You know,” he said. “I flew in the last war.”

  Lottie turned to him, openmouthed. “You did?” she asked.

  Cunningham nodded. “They say I’m too old for active duty now,” he said. “But that don’t mean I forgot how to fly a plane.”

  Pickman whooped. “Johnson,” he called. “Fuel her up!”

  “You think you can get your friend to give you the coordinates of those men out there?” Cunningham asked.

  Lottie nodded and picked up the hangar phone.

  “I’m gonna go find us a pair of jumpsuits,” Cunningham said.

  “Wait,” Lottie said. “What do you mean ‘us’?”

  Cunningham grinned. “You think I’m going to make a flight like that without the best engineer in this shop?” he asked.

  Thirty

  LOTTIE HELD HER BREATH as the plane nosed out of the repair hangar.

  She’d been in dozens of planes before, both commercial and private, because her father and his friends were all fascinated with flight, to the point where Lottie used to tease her father that next he should order his engineers to design a flying car.

  But she’d never been in the cockpit in a plane this big. And she’d never before tried to take off against the express wishes of the US Navy—which meant that if they got into any trouble, they’d also be operating without backup.

  But she didn’t feel afraid. She didn’t even feel thrilled. She just felt the all-consuming calm of total concentration.

  In the cockpit, she and Cunningham were as high as the second story of the buildings that surrounded them, so she could see the half-deserted runways and lanes of the base well enough to get a bird’s-eye view—and to passionately wish they were completely deserted.

  “Never done this without flight control before,” Cunningham called over the noise of the engines. He looked up at the empty blue sky. “But I don’t think we’ll have much competition.”

  Until they got to the runway itself, nobody paid them much mind.

  A few of the passing seamen took a second squint at the bird, simply because the deeply rounded belly of the flying boat was such a different profile from the standard planes they were used to seeing.

  But nobody took one look at them and went running off to make a report, as Lottie half-feared someone might.

  The other half of her feared that no one would stop them. And that in a few minutes she’d be flying in the air in a bird that hadn’t been flown for years, heading for a rescue mission she had no idea how to accomplish. In some ways, it’d be easier if they did get caught, so that she wouldn’t have to figure out everything that came next if they actually did manage to take off.

  It wasn’t until they nosed onto the actual runway that heads began to turn. Men who had been lazily fueling up planes, or standing around waiting for orders, were suddenly at true attention, not just the military version of it, when an unfamiliar plane entered the runway unannounced.

  A few of them stood in shock. Some began to wave and yell. But an instant later, Cunningham gunned the engine. He and Lottie hurtled forward, toward the blue of the bay. And just before they sank into it, the lift of the wings kicked in, and the plane began to rise.

  Cunningham and Lottie looked at each other, grinning.

  “You think they’ll come after us?” Lottie shouted over the roar of the engine.

  Cunningham shrugged. “They ain’t gonna shoot us down,” he said. “So they’d have to come with us. Which means more help for the rescue.”

  The twinkle in his eye said he’d take those odds.

  But as the plane leveled out over the wide sea, the two of them fell silent, both focused on the distant horizon and the men they were trying to reach, far beyond what they could even see now.

  The broad expanse of blue sky and blue sea that stretched before them was vast. It took Lottie’s breath away.

  Somehow, the sea and sky proved just as varied as any land, with just as many colors and changes. And Lottie was glad for them. As she let them fill her senses, everything else fell away. For the first time she could remember, all her problems seemed to get smaller, as she realized how minuscule she was in the face of the ocean. It was a fact that could have scared her and made her feel insignificant. But somehow it came as a comfort, that this sea was still rolling on, despite all the troubles of everyone back on land.

  But still, the thought of the men they were headed for, stranded in their tiny boat, even tinier themselves, and at the mercy of such a vast ocean, was a continual pinprick in her heart.

  The only conversation she had with Cunningham was his reports on their progress—three hours out, two hours, one. And the closer they got, the more impatient Lottie became. Every second counted now. Couldn’t the plane go any faster?

  Anticipation grew in her heart as they flew through the final hour, all trace of land now left far behind them.

  But as the quad engines purred through what should have been the last half hour, on the horizon, they could see a storm, a dark, angry patch in the otherwise clear line of sea and sky, which the sun was now beginning to sink down.

  Lottie watched it, trying to judge the path Cunningham was on. The storm was so small and the horizon so long. It seemed impossible that they’d have to go through that spot, of all the spots they could see.

  “We going to miss that?” she shouted over the roar of the engine.

  Grimly, Cunningham shook his head.

  And then, faster than she would have ever imagined, they were in it.

  The sun was still up. But inside the storm, it was as if night had just set in.

  Lottie squinted and tried to scan the ocean below. With this little light, and this much rain and wind, Lottie began to worry they wouldn’t be able to see the boat, even if they made it to the exact coordinates. And she worried even more about what this kind of a storm had done to the boat’s position. In clear weather, they should have been able to see for miles, which meant they’d have had a good chance of finding the little ship, even if it had been blown quite a bit off course. But in this kind of a blow, Lottie didn’t know.

  Cunningham just narrowed his eyes, heading steadily for the setting that Maggie had given them.

  And then Lottie saw it.

  It wasn’t easy to pick out through the steel-colored waves and the sheets of rain that poured down around the plane, sometimes flying in at an angle from the wind, directly into the glass shield of the cockpit.

  But it was a ship, as
plain as day. A small one, more the size of an independent fishing rig than what Lottie would have thought of as a military vessel.

  It spun lazily in the water, like a child’s toy left in the tub after a bath. It flickered in and out of view, depending on the ferocity of the wind and the waves. But it was a ship. It fit the description. And it was just where it should have been.

  “It’s there!” Lottie called, pointing out her window. “I see it.”

  For the first time since he’d taken the controls, Lottie saw a look of relief pass over Cunningham’s face. But just as quickly, he steeled himself for the task still at hand.

  “I can’t land anywhere near them,” he shouted over the noise of the engine and the storm. “With waves this big, we might swamp the boat with our wake.”

  Lottie nodded.

  Cunningham was already descending in the direction of the ship. He jutted his chin out, toward a patch of water just beyond it. It didn’t look too far now, just a scrap of space from this distance, but by the time they landed, it would be hundreds of yards. “I’m going to try to get just past it,” he said.

  Lottie braced herself as the plane bounced and groaned, losing altitude through the worst of the storm.

  But the landing was different than any she’d ever experienced. Even in the heart of the storm, the ship staggered from the sudden resistance of the water, and the sound increased from the slap of waves on the hull.

  She and Cunningham had worked the plan out in advance: she’d be the one to climb down into the hold, open the hatch, and take a launch out to get the men. But when they’d made the plan, neither of them had imagined that she’d be doing it in the midst of a storm.

  “You all right, Palmer?” Cunningham shouted.

  She gulped at the thrashing sea around them. But she nodded.

  “It don’t look good out there,” Cunningham said. “Maybe I should go.”

  Lottie rose from her seat, shaking her head.

  “No way!” she said.

  “You’re a fast learner,” Cunningham said with a smile.

  “Not that fast,” Lottie said, pushing past him, heading for the belly of the plane. “If we lose me, some men might still make it here and get home. If we lose you, we’re all done for.”

  “Palmer!” Cunningham called as she was about to disappear into the plane’s cargo area.

  She stopped and looked back.

  “Go get ’em,” Cunningham said, and grinned.

  Thirty-One

  WHEN LOTTIE FIRST MANAGED to push the large hatch in the belly of the Catalina open, she could clearly see the outline of the stranded ship, a solid chunk through the sheets of rain, even over the choppy surface of the waves.

  The boat she planned to take to the other ship was a light inflatable. It didn’t have much bulk to keep it from being tossed around once it got into open water, but it was light enough for her to drag over to the hatch herself.

  Lottie dropped it into the water without much problem because the lip of the hatch was so close to the waterline itself. She looked back toward Cunningham in the cockpit and sent up a prayer for his safety. If the weather shifted even slightly while she made her foray over to the wrecked ship, the plane itself could swamp. She and the men would be stranded in this vast stretch of ocean where no one else would ever find them again.

  But she had come so far that there was no way she was giving up now. Once the boat hit the water, she didn’t even take a second to consider or hesitate. She just jumped straight down into it herself, then turned back to swat at the door to the hatch, closing it as much as she could against the sheets of rain that were still pouring down.

  It was when she felt herself bobbing on the angry sea that the vertigo hit her.

  Reeling, she sank down into the inflatable raft and began to paddle. To her relief, despite the choppy water, the little boat jumped forward, away from the shelter of the plane, into the rain.

  But when she looked up to get a sighting of the stranded boat she was heading for, it had vanished.

  Nothing was in front of her but stony-gray waves, mist, and rain. Panic swelling in her chest, she looked back—just in time to see the plane behind her disappear in the mist.

  God, she prayed, plunging forward into the unknown, not sure if she was about to hit the wreck in the blinding spray or rush past it completely, into open water she’d never find her way back from. Help.

  A wave slammed into the inflatable raft, knocking it off the wobbly course she had set based on her last sighting of the ship, and knocking Lottie off the seat she had been crouched on. The force of it didn’t just make her lose her grip on the paddle she was holding. It threw her body half out of the boat. For a sickening instant, Lottie had a glimpse of what it would be like to be lost in these waves. Then she mustered everything she had and pulled herself back up onto the raft.

  Kneeling in the water that was already sloshing in the floor of the raft, Lottie bit her lip and blinked back tears. Then she scrambled back to her seat.

  When she did, the ship was dead ahead, so close she had to swerve to avoid banging into it.

  “Hey!” she started yelling. “Ahoy! Hello!”

  She had no idea what a real sailor would say in this situation. She was just trying to make as much noise as she could.

  The hull of this ship was low to the water, too. It was a little cutter whose deck was only about six feet off the surface, probably designed to do exactly what Lottie was doing now—transport men from one big boat to the next—but for a much larger ship.

  But in the noise of the rain, those six feet made all the difference.

  Lottie could feel her own words blown back at her by the wind, even as she continued to shout. Was anything she was saying even making it up to the deck, let alone inside, where the weakened men were probably taking whatever shelter they could get from this terrible weather?

  Beside her was a toolbox, fastened into the side of the raft. Looking for something that might help her make noise, she flipped it open and found a small air horn resting on top. She pulled it out and pressed the button, creating a blaring, bleating sound that she thought might have traveled all the way back to Cunningham in the flying boat.

  Up on the silent ship, though, nothing happened.

  Lottie blasted the horn again.

  This time, a face appeared on the lip of the ship, pale, with a mop of dark hair.

  Lottie waved. “We’re here to take you back!” she yelled, gesturing to the boat. “Come down! Get in!”

  By now her little launch had bumped up so close to the ship that she could see the consternation on the man’s face. Instead of looking glad to be rescued, he looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

  A moment later, another face appeared beside him. This one was just as pale, but dotted with freckles.

  “Harry,” the dark-haired guy said to the freckled one. “You see this? Am I seeing things?”

  “Is it a mermaid?” Harry said in a tone of wonder.

  Lottie stomped her foot on the floor of the boat impatiently. “I’m a Navy WAVE,” she yelled. “There’s a seaplane waiting for you a few hundred yards out. But we have to go now!”

  For a moment, the men stared at her in shock, rain running down their faces. Then they both disappeared.

  But an instant later, they were back, surrounded by a dozen other faces. A rope ladder dropped over the side of the ship, and men began to scramble down it, some of them working their way steadily, others missing a step and collapsing onto the men who had already made the raft. A few of them whooped with laughter at their good fortune. But most of them seemed to be using everything they had just to stay awake and upright.

  There were still faces peering over the edge of the boat, waiting for help, when the raft began to swamp.

  “It’s too many!” one of the men on board yelled. “Come back for us.”

  On the raft, two of his buddies had already begun to bail.

  “Get in!” Lottie called back. “We can�
�t make this trip twice!”

  The last remaining passenger couldn’t even make the ladder himself. Instead, two of his buddies lowered him down the side of the boat, wrapped in a hooded raincoat and attached to a plank, and the other men in Lottie’s launch reached for him and drew him in. He lay so still that Lottie was afraid he was dead, and she could see fresh blood spreading over the belly of his uniform when the raincoat fell open, bleeding like ink onto paper in the rain.

  Then his two buddies dropped into the boat behind him.

  “That’s everyone,” Harry shouted to Lottie. “We’re all here.”

  “Where are we going?” someone else called from the rear of the raft, which was riding even lower in the water with the full load. That meant it wasn’t getting tossed as much by the waves. But it also meant that even a small swell put them in danger of getting swamped.

  Lottie was grateful to see, though, that now all the healthy men had joined the bailing, throwing water out of the bottom of the boat with anything they could find, including their own hats.

  In answer to the man’s question, Lottie gestured to what she hoped was the Catalina, now lost in the mist again.

  Then the men pulled the oars free from their locks and began to paddle, guiding the little launch in a large, lazy circle away from the side of the ship where they had spent so many hopeless days. As they pulled away, the ship seemed to nose after them, almost as if it wanted to come along, too.

  Lottie’s heart rose in her chest as they plunged toward the unknown, into the mist. But just as they reached the top of the circle their path was describing on the waves, she caught sight of the Catalina again, up and off to the left.

  This time, when they set a course for it, it never disappeared from sight again. But when they reached the hatch in the belly of the Catalina, the water wasn’t as cooperative. The waves were so rough that the men in the fore of the raft had to jump and scramble just to get a grip on it. And even once they had purchase on the hatch, two of them together couldn’t pry it open until a third joined. The force of all three finally got the hatch to swing wide, although it knocked one of them off their feet. Then two of them scrambled up into the belly of the plane and reached out to pull the wounded man aboard.