Minds of Men

by Kacey Ezell

  “Warsaw will not be experiencing a gentle hand in the future, Oberhelfer. Herr Sendler and I agreed that it would be better if you were spared from having to witness that.”

  Rasia Boron’s tentative, genuine smile as she sipped her tea flashed through Lina’s mind. She felt her stomach clench.

  “I see,” she said softly. “It is a war, after all.”

  “Just so,” Bordstein said with that winning smile.

  A tiny corner of Lina’s mind wondered if he’d ever been an actor. He’d have been a good one, if he could smile like that while contemplating the harrowing of an entire city. She didn’t know specifically what would be done, but she could imagine. The army had taken terrible losses from the criminals’ attacks. They would require blood in return.

  She came to her feet.

  “Very well, Herr Bordstein,” she said. “I serve the Reich. If I am required in Paris, I will go to Paris.”

  “Very good, Oberhelfer Sucherin,” he said, standing as well. “I will have the arrangements made.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Four

  As promised, the knock came at 0430.

  Evelyn felt as if she’d only just fallen asleep. The banging on the outer door was, however, impossible to ignore, and she sat up amid the groans and protestations of the women around her. As soon as she had, the door slammed open, and Captain Ledoux walked in.

  “On your feet, ladies!” she shouted in a voice that would have made a drill sergeant proud. “We’ve got a mission. You’re to eat and report to your crews right away. They’ve already got the tail number assignments. Make sure you eat, mind! You’ll do no one any good if you pass out from hunger and exhaustion halfway to France!”

  The captain’s voice held a high note of excitement. She had to be as tired as the rest of them, for she’d been working with her own crew late the night before, but her carriage was ramrod-straight as she strode down the aisle separating the bunks, and a gleeful light shone in her eyes.

  Evelyn rolled out of her bunk just as Mary climbed down from the top. Evelyn gave her friend a little smile of commiseration as they both started to dress. Mary responded with a grunt. Evelyn was satisfied. That was typical for Mary before she’d had a drop of coffee.

  Captain Ledoux walked down the full length of the hut, ensuring that every woman was awake and moving in a positive direction before she returned to the front. Before she exited, though, she turned back to look at all of them. Evelyn paused in the act of pulling on her utility boots.

  “I want you all to know,” Captain Ledoux said, her voice getting slightly thick. “That I am extremely proud of all of you. I know that you’ll make a difference for those boys today. Good luck to all of you.” With that astonishing speech, she turned and pushed out into the pre-dawn darkness.

  Mary turned wide eyes to Evelyn.

  “Well!” the blond girl said, startled into actual speech by the captain’s actions. “Do you know, I believe the good captain nearly got a bit sentimental on us!”

  “Don’t tease, Mary,” Evelyn said gently. “She’s done her best for us, and she knows very well that some of us may not make it back today.”

  “Hmph. That old battle axe!” Mary said, with a derisive sniff. “Well, I hope she’s wrong about that, at least.”

  “So do I,” Evelyn said. She finished tying up her boots and stood up. She ran her hands rather nervously down over her hips. This wasn’t the first time she’d worn trousers. They’d worn them for their training flights, of course, but there hadn’t been too many of those, and Evelyn still felt exposed with the shape of her legs so easily visible. Skirts were, however, simply not compatible with operating in aircraft. Women all over the country were wearing trousers to work back home. Evelyn told herself that this was no different.

  It still wasn’t comfortable.

  “Are you ready?” Mary asked, her pre-coffee gruffness returning. Evelyn nodded, and they set out for the chow hall at a good clip. England was cold, after all. It couldn’t hurt to get the blood moving.

  * * *

  Evelyn might have worried about finding her aircraft and crew. The flightline was, after all, quite large, with hundreds of aircraft parked in clusters all along the outer edge. The rising sun gilded the wings and fuselages of the birds by the time Mary and Evelyn joined the stream of bodies headed out in that direction. Vehicles, too. Big trucks carrying the .50 caliber machine guns used by the waist gunners to keep the fighters at bay roared down the apron, belching clouds of diesel smoke into the air. Still, a fine mist rose from the grass infield, giving everything a silvery cast as the light caught the water droplets.

  “These are my fellas,” Mary said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the two women from the time they left the chow hall. Evelyn stopped and wrapped her arms around her friend in a hard hug.

  “Good luck,” she whispered. The blond girl tightened her arms in response.

  “You too,” Mary replied, her high, light voice trembling and devoid of her usual mischievous humor.

  Evelyn gave her one more squeeze and let go, sniffing back her own tears. The two women shared a brave smile, and then Mary turned to greet the enlisted aircrewmen who had gathered at the nose of the plane, watching their interchange.

  Mary’s plane was the Lucky Lou. Her fuselage proudly bore a depiction of a woman lying on her back, her feet crossed in the air while playing cards laid scattered all around her. Though she was covered, the painted woman’s posture showed her ample curves to advantage, and Evelyn felt her cheeks heat up every time she looked at the nose art.

  However, Evelyn was pleased to see that Mary’s crew reached out to her as she approached. That was a sign that their net was already strong. Mary might have envied Evelyn her finesse, but the truth was that she was a formidable psychic in her own right. Her strength of will and her natural charisma made for a powerful combination, and Evelyn knew Mary would do well. She kissed her fingertips and waved at her friend one more time, then turned to find her own crew.

  As it turned out, she had no trouble. The net pulled at her, getting stronger the closer she got to her crew. Her instincts pushed at her to re-establish the connection; her mind longed to feel the minds of her men once more. Evelyn allowed the pull to guide her but shunted the worst of the urges off for the time being. She’d re-link everyone once they were airborne.

  Corporal Martinez was the first to see her as she walked up, but the others weren’t far behind. The net pulled at them, too. One by one, the four gunners climbed down out of the plane and approached Evelyn.

  “Morning,” Sergeant Carroll said, sounding uncharacteristically shy. Evelyn gave him a smile that she then gave to the rest of the group.

  “Good morning,” Evelyn said, feeling a bit shy herself. “I, ah, don’t want to be in your way. Is there somewhere in particular I should stand?” She felt every bit of her small-town girl awkwardness come to the fore. To add to her mortification, she felt her face heating up in another blush. Sergeant Carroll ducked his head briefly and then let out a soft curse and reached for her hand. The moment he touched her skin, the net snapped into place between them, then leapt out and encompassed Rico, Les, Logan, and Bobby as well. Evelyn reached out quickly to steady them all, sorting their vision and other inputs, helping them to make sense of the sudden quintupling of information flowing to their brains.

  Whoa, that was fast, Les thought. It wasn’t that fast last night.

  Every connection strengthens the net, which makes connecting faster, Evelyn replied. I wasn’t fast enough to stop Sean from touching my hand. Physical touch makes it easier to connect, too, especially when the net wants to be built. Or, at least, that’s how it seems. You all craved the connection this morning, so it was very easy...all of these things made it easy.

  Just at that moment, a Jeep roared up, and a lanky specialist with tousled blond hair and a mile-wide grin hopped out. Six pairs of eyes, including Evelyn’s, turned to regard the newcomer.

 
John Gilmour, Sean thought. Radio operator. Good man. Musta subbed in for Harry.

  Instantly, Evelyn felt flooded with the knowledge that their regular radio operator, Harry Richards, had gotten pneumonia and been taken to the nearest hospital to recover. The crew felt a collective pang of regret at not having their regular teammate there, but Evelyn noticed a certain cautious optimism. Everyone liked John.

  Evelyn took a deep breath and shunted the men’s thoughts off to a corner of her conscious brain.

  “Specialist Gilmour,” she said, hearing her voice echo through five other sets of ears. It never ceased to amaze her how much higher her voice sounded that way. “I am Technician Evelyn Adamsen. I’ve linked the crew into a psychic net for this mission. Do I have your permission to include you in this?”

  Specialist Gilmour blinked several times, obviously taken aback. His cocky smile faded, and he flicked his eyes from her to the men ranged behind her. Evelyn felt Sean, Rico, Logan, and several of the others silently urge the man to accept. They wanted him on their crew. Evelyn smiled gently and pushed Sean to speak. He was the highest ranked of all of them, and as the flight engineer, the men naturally looked to him. He cleared his throat awkwardly and took a step forward.

  “Look, John,” he said. Evelyn could feel the disorientation that resulted from hearing his own words through other ears, and she gently did what she could to pull that away from the young sergeant so that he could concentrate. “This net thing, it’s strange, but it’s good. It lets us communicate instantly, so we can tell if someone’s hurt or whatever...and it will help us see fighters, too, and fly closer formation, Evelyn says. Just, give it a try, will ya? She’s good.”

  “All right,” Specialist Gilmour said, his words coming slowly. “What do you need?”

  “If you could take my hand,” Evelyn said, “that would be good...and...have you anything on you? A token of some kind? Perhaps a lucky charm?” As soon as she said it, she knew she’d made a mistake. All of the men recoiled from her question. You can’t take his lucky charm! Les thought fiercely. It’ll throw him off for the whole sortie! Ask for a dog tag or something instead.

  It was Evelyn’s turn to blink rapidly.

  “Oh! I am sorry. Not a lucky charm, I didn’t know...” Well, of course these men pinned their hopes on something as small as a token. They had to have something to give them a sense of control over the completely uncontrollable fortunes of war. She felt sick at her own faux pas. She swallowed hard, making sure to shield the men from her dismay, and pressed on. “Perhaps, an identification tag? Something with your name on it, that you wear close to your skin?”

  Specialist Gilmour eyed her with no little suspicion, but at Sean’s nod, he reached into his collar and pulled out the chain that held his dog tags. A quick twist of his fingers detached one of the tags, and he held it out to Evelyn. She smiled again, trying to be encouraging.

  “Thank you,” she said, without reaching out to touch it. “I’m going to take your tag and your hand at the same time, all right? I just need you to relax.” Just relax and let me in, she found herself thinking, and then for some reason she didn’t want to examine too closely, found humor welling up from several of the crewmen. While her face flamed, Evelyn reached out and touched Specialist Gilmour’s hand with her fingertips. At the same time, she reached out with her mind, seeking his psyche.

  He was so cautious, and Evelyn didn’t want to hurt him by forcing her way in (another quickly stifled burst of amusement, like a silent snicker shushed by several disapproving voices), so it was slow going. His mind seemed to simultaneously reach out for hers and shy away. Evelyn found herself murmuring soft reassurances. Her hand slid over his, her fingertips finding the rolled metal edge of the dog tag. She pushed slowly, just a bit harder, and reached across the slick surface of the metal to find the raised letters of his name. Her mind registered those letters, the pictures of the sounds that made up his name, and it was like a key turned in a lock. John’s mind opened to her, and Evelyn gathered up all of his delicious maleness and wove it into the larger net.

  What? John asked, startled as his vision fractured into multiple images. Evelyn hustled to separate his vision out and ease him in.

  It’s all right, John, Sean thought, reaching out and clapping the blond man on the shoulder. John’s cockiness had completely disappeared, leaving only the same doubts that all of them had. We’re all here, Evelyn’s got us, and she’s good.

  I worked with them for some hours last night, Evelyn explained. It will be easier for you to join the net the next time. You’d better have this back, she said then, releasing the dog tag. I don’t need it anymore. Things with names on them make the net stronger, but you’re required to wear two of them, and I am strong enough to hold the net without it.

  This is so weird, John thought, and the rest of the men in the net erupted into laughter. It was sympathetic laughter, but laughter nonetheless. Even Evelyn smiled at that.

  We’ve still got a preflight to complete, Sean reminded them. The officers will be here any minute. Evelyn, you can come with me. I’ll show you your crew station and egress procedures.

  For the rest of the hour, Evelyn watched through separate pairs of eyes as they accomplished their various pre-flight tasks. Weapons had to be loaded, extra ammo stacked. She understood that they weren’t exactly supposed to carry extra but that Logan had worked out a deal with the munitions guys. Normally, she didn’t hold with working around the rules...but she felt their reasons, and their fear, and she knew that the extra ammo was a talisman as much as their various lucky charms. If they didn’t have it, they’d be thrown off, and that couldn’t happen. Plus, what if they needed it?

  Don’t worry, Sean thought to her, once he noticed her noticing their ammo load. I’ve run the numbers on my own. We’re still well under our max gross weight and well within our center of gravity limits. See how the cans are stacked there? he asked her, looking at the load he meant, showing her through his own eyes. They’re stacked that way on purpose. That’s so that they keep the CG where it should be. Evelyn felt his self-satisfied smile and found her own lips curving in response. We’ll keep you as safe as we can, Evie, don’t you worry.

  Mary calls me Evie, she thought in response, because that seemed the best thing to say at that moment.

  I like it, Bobby replied, from his station in the right waist. It suits you. Evelyn felt the collective approval of the other men soaking through her, and she resigned herself to the nickname. All in all, it was a good sign. It meant that the men were feeling more and more comfortable with her presence and with being tied in together. Even John, who sat silently in his radio room and was preparing his radio equipment, was cautiously exploring the lines of the net. Evelyn could feel him tentatively looking through the other men’s eyes as they loaded their guns and did whatever other tasks they needed to do.

  Before too long, another Jeep pulled up, and the four officer members of the crew hopped out. Evelyn had been sitting in her crew station, next to the radio table. She heard Sean greet Captain Peters just as the net suddenly leapt and strained toward the four members it had been missing. Careful where she stepped, Evelyn climbed down out of the aircraft and walked toward her pilot and the others.

  “Pretty Cass, today, hmm?” Captain Peters was saying. He had a smile on his face as he looked up at the nose art painted on the front fuselage. A dark haired girl in a striped bathing suit smiled back from where she lay on her stomach, her toes pointed up toward the sky. As nose art went, it wasn’t the most risqué that Evelyn had seen, and the depiction was well done. She thought she recognized the picture out of an issue of Esquire magazine that had been tacked up on one of the walls in Operations.

  Why do you paint pinup girls on the front of the aircraft? Evelyn found herself thinking.

  The aircraft like it. They enjoy being treated like ladies, and then they’re more likely to bring us home. That was Logan, and Evelyn could feel his grin as he thought about it. She smiled in
response.

  “Is that smile for us?” Lieutenant Becket asked, giving her a bit of a smirk. Evelyn schooled her face into more decorous lines and shunted the other men to the back of her head. Not all of them liked the copilot, she noticed. Some thought he was far too cocky for his level of skill. Most of them were just as happy that he was the copilot and that Captain Peters was in charge.

  “If you like, sir,” Evelyn said. “I try to be pleasant when I greet people for the first time in the morning.” She turned her attention to Captain Peters. “The crew and I have re-linked the net already. I thought to wait until we were airborne, but the net had other ideas.”

  “You talk like it’s a living thing,” Captain Peters said. He shifted his weight toward her, and his hand sort of drifted out, as if it would take hold of Evelyn’s. Evelyn sternly held her instincts back. She wouldn’t incorporate him until he said to do so...no matter how much she yearned to make the connection complete.

  “It feels that way sometimes, sir,” she said. “Don’t you feel it pulling at you even now?”

  Captain Peters’ brown eyes bored into hers, but he didn’t say anything. Evelyn held her breath and held the clamoring minds of the enlisted crew at bay. Slowly, the captain reached out to take her hand.

  He never got there. The moment Evelyn could see acquiescence in his eyes, the net leapt free of her constraints and embraced him like a lover. Evelyn felt Carl’s consciousness flood into hers, followed quickly by Paul’s, Bob’s, and Abram’s as the other officers naturally followed their pilot’s lead. Evelyn worked quickly to sort everyone’s senses, but she felt a giddy euphoria as the net sang through all of them. It was complete! They were a crew! It was time to fly!

  * * *