by Cat Gardiner
The man outright stared, and she wondered if her stylish apparel had caught his eye. His gaze was almost as intense as Will’s had been that day at Bar Beach. Feeling confident that she had chosen just the right outfit for Will’s appreciation, she smiled as she removed a Hires Root Beer from the red soda cooler. Her sweetheart was going to go lulu over the dress.
“Need a hand with that, Miss?”
“No thank you.” She adeptly popped the top at the bottle opener attached to the gas pump shelter.
The station attendant watched her perfectly lined, red lips surround the bottle mouth as she took a long cooling draft. He couldn’t help but to stare with each pass of his squeegee across the windshield. “Hot one today, ain’t it?”
Lizzy stood just beyond the two gas pumps, looking past the Horch at the empty field on the other side of the road. She pressed the cold bottle against the pulse in her neck. “It feels nice. The weather has turned so cool up north, so this is a swell escape. Why I hardly feel the heat at all.”
She recognized the sound of the cicadas in the pine trees behind her. It seemed strange since summer was long gone and cicadas were only seasonal insects in New York.
“At least the humidity is gone. Where up north are you from?”
“Long Island? Do you know of it?”
“Can’t says I do. I got a cousin in Philadelphia, though. Went up there to work in the Navy Yard, building ships.”
A tiny bug bit her, and she glanced down at her arm. The culprit was gone. It must have been one of those invisible Kamikazes Will mentioned. “I get to Philadelphia on occasion. The Vesper Boat Club organizes the most incredible sculling regattas along Boathouse Row. Why, they even boast an Olympian!”
He didn’t seem impressed, and she chastised herself for that Renner magniloquence, which so easily surfaced with her boating enthusiasm. She figured the man didn’t know what sculling was.
“Where ya’ headin’?” he asked.
“Drane Airfield.”
He plunged the squeegee back into the tin bucket beside the pump. “That’s only eighteen or so more miles. Follow this road up to old Ewell’s farm in Mulberry then make a left onto the dirt road. You’ll see the phosphorous dump, maybe even a watermelon stand and if not, you can’t miss those noisy bombers comin’ and goin’.”
Lizzy beamed. “That sounds like the place.” She walked around the vehicle as he removed the gas nozzle from the Roadster.
“Lucky fellow.”
“How did you know?”
“Miss, we don’t see many high-class cookies like you in this here parts now that Mulberry’s own Frances Langford left for Tinseltown. She’s with that Bob Hope, doin’ her bit for the boys with the U.S.O. Although I hear she’s back in town.”
“She’s the one on the Pepsodent Show and in that new James Cagney movie, right?”
“Yuppers. Apart from her and the workers at the mine, not much comes through here. There’s one reason, and one reason only, that you’re headed to the airfield and that’s to see your sweetheart. Am I right?”
“You’re right, sir. I just hope he’s happy to see me.”
Lizzy inserted the key and pushed another button, bringing the smooth, yet powerful German eight-cylinder engine to life. The purr barely sounded, but Charlie Barnett’s “Skyliner” from the radio disturbed the quiet, rural air.
“Well if he ain’t happy to see you, you just come back down here, ’cause you’re a sight for these ole cracker’s eyes.”
She smiled kindly. “How much for the gas?”
The attendant took out his rag and polished the sleek grill of the car. “That’ll be $3.18. No charge for the root beer. Say, you better remember to blackout your headlights.”
“Oh, I will! Don’t you worry.”
Lizzy paid the man and just before she put the car in gear, he ran his hand over the long hood. “What kind an automobile is this? I ain’t seen nothing like it. Never heard of no Horch.”
“It’s … German.” As the nationality came out of her mouth, she realized her error and with a start remembered how her father had made special arrangements during her Grand Tour for its delivery back to New York. One of only five manufactured, he had boasted it was specially commissioned for its previous owner, a “government official.” A chill went up Lizzy’s spine at that recollection. Vaguely, she remembered his declaration that the government official was with or was the Jagdfliegerführer. She’d have to ask Will what the Jagdfliegerführer was. He’d know.
She realized her own expression had turned pensive as, simultaneously, the smile died upon Mr. Southern Hospitality’s lips when he heard the word “German.”
“Have a nice day, Miss,” was all he replied with a rather curt wave.
~~*~~
Twenty
Pistol Packin’ Mama
October 14, 1942
A sudden rush of nerves flared as the Horch Spezial Roadster pulled up beside the small, windowed guardhouse. With music blaring, she read the large sign hanging above her: Lakeland Army Airfield, #2 Drane Field.
Lizzy turned down the distracting volume on the radio and removed her sunglasses, taking in the lone uniformed guard with an imposing black MP armband wrapped prominently around his bicep. She smiled nervously at the Military Policeman standing sentry as the gate security. He greeted her with a wary appraisal that, she thought, contained something akin to a hint of recognition.
A thunderous roar in the near distance garnered her attention from the approaching GI, and with hands clutched to the top of the convertible’s windshield, she rose slightly in her seat. Her line of vision followed a bomber’s take off upward into the clear blue sky, rising like an American eagle, and her limbs reacted accordingly, even in the scorching sun—transforming to duck flesh.
“Can I help you, Miss?” Wowza!
“Yes, sir. I’m here to visit Lieutenant William Martel. He’s a pilot with the 322nd Bombardment Group.”
“This is a restricted military base, Miss. Only authorized personnel allowed. I’m sorry.”
She begged audaciously, grasping the top edge of the door and leaning forward. “Oh, please. I’ve come so far. I’ve driven all morning, and shamelessly used more gas then I have since the ration began.”
Sergeant O’Malley frowned during closer inspection of that pert nose and captivating smile. “Er … do I know you?” And if I don’t I would love to.
“No, I’ve never met any of William’s Air Corps buddies, but you seem very nice, very … kind. The type of man who would be sympathetic to a girl’s plight.” She gave him a coy smile, tilting her head flirtatiously, looking up through her lashes and the brim of her hat.
“Wait here, Miss. Who shall I say is visiting?”
“Lizzy Renner.”
Oh yeah, he recognized her, but he took a double take anyway. “Lizzy you said?”
She nodded, and he promptly stepped into the guard house, picking up the telephone to call his CO.
Lizzy couldn’t overhear the conversation, but she couldn’t help noticing how the MP continually glanced back to her while talking in hushed tones into the receiver. Impatiently, she gripped the steering wheel trying to look as calm and alluring as she could. She so wanted to surprise Will.
“Yes, sir, I’m not mistaken, No, sir. Hot dang! … Sorry, sir. … Yes, it’s Lizzy. Should I send her through? … What? You’ll meet her personally? … Yes, sir. I’ll tell her, and I’ll get the Tower Officer on the horn to find out Lieutenant Martel’s ETA … Yes, sir.”
Lizzy heard the phone settle on the cradle before he came out the door with a clipboard and a visitor identification pass. “You’ll have to wear this, but I wouldn’t want you to ruin your pretty dress, Miss. The lieutenant will be happy to see you I bet. Heck, I think all the men will.”
She beamed. “So, I can go in? Thank you!”
He leaned toward her, pointing his finger with an outstretched arm. “Just take this road down to the base’s Service Member Club. You c
an’t miss it. It’s the only building completed at this time. After you park at the club, Captain Carter of the 451st Bomb Squadron will meet you there and escort you to the flight line to await the lieutenant’s landing.”
“The flight line?”
“Yeah, I know, it’s quite unprecedented, but you’re somewhat of a celebrity around here.”
“How can I be a celebrity? I’ve never been here before and my family is in railroads, not aviation.”
The sergeant playfully smiled. “Oh, you’ve been here … and affiliated with aviation … trust me.” He laughed, shook his head and waved her on
Lizzy raised her arm in the air then suddenly gassed the Horch, kicking up dirt in her wake. The sudden gust of wind blew the brim of her hat, but thankfully, it was secured in place by her hatpins. She laughed that devilish laugh of hers, unknowingly elevating him in rank. “Thank you, Officer! Woo hoo!”
The MP watched her departure and shook his head again with a grin. Yes, she is quite a pistol. “Martel, you’re one lucky bastard.”
Lizzy parked the sports car beside the building where a uniformed man stood waving and smiling to her as though greeting an old friend. Above him, a large sign hung flapping in the breeze above the doors. U.S.O Dance Tonight.
Hmm ... restricted ... only authorized personnel, huh? My eye!
She couldn’t help notice how the officer seemed awestruck watching her exit the sports car, yet his enthused greeting with an unexpected, affable handshake implied a familiarity. For a second, she expected him to kiss her gloved hand, and briefly wondered if he had seen one of the bathing suit snapshots she had sent to Will.
“Miss Renner, welcome to Drane. I’m Captain Jim Carter, and I’ll be escorting you to the hanger area to await the lieutenant’s arrival at the flight line.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Captain.” She almost squealed in delight. “I’m so excited to be here. Thank you for taking the time.”
He stared at her, locking his brown eyes with hers. “Miss, it’s really swell to finally meet Lieutenant Martel’s girl.”
Three GIs passed by giving her the once over accompanied by approving wolf whistles as though they hadn’t seen a girl in months. One of the young men, dressed in coveralls and a ball cap styled hat, elbowed another and all three stared even harder. She thought she heard “pistol” mentioned but was sure she was mistaken, chalking it up to her anxiety at seeing Ducky after these many weeks apart.
“I have to admit, I’m really quite surprised by the reception, Captain. The soldier at the guard house mentioned that for some strange reason you boys consider me a celebrity around here.” She gave him a sideways glance and a flirtatious smile. “Why is that?”
Carter chuckled. “You are a celebrity Miss Renner, but loose lips sink ships, they say. Shall we climb into Willy the jeep over there and take a spin to greet your flier in that ship of his?” A finger pointed to a green utility vehicle on the other side of the building.
“That sounds just swell! Will the lieutenant be away very long?”
“He’s out on a practice mission right now with an ETA of 13:25—almost one thirty, in ten minutes.”
Together, they walked to the ubiquitous transport. It’s big, five-point star upon the hood made her smile. Apparently, here she would look like an even bigger fish out of water. Dressed to the sophisticated nines, she wore a white, yellow, and green floral dress with a matching purse of the same fabric, and she was about to imminently surprise Will, enthroned upon a military vehicle. A year ago, she might have frowned, but not today, and probably not ever again. The whole experience was simply creamy!
With a not-so-hidden smile of appreciation, the captain kept looking over to her as she climbed into the jeep and settled in, his eyes raking up her stocking-clad legs. “Will you be staying in the area, Miss Renner?”
“Yes, for the next two nights I’ll be staying at the Hotel Lakeland Terrace then head on back down to Sarasota where my family has a winter home.”
“The Lakeland Terrace is some swanky digs.”
“It’s not the Breakers in Palm Beach or the Don CeSar Hotel on St. Pete Beach, but it’ll do.”
“Well, you couldn’t have stayed at the Pink Palace even if you wanted to. The Army has conscripted it for convalescent rehabilitation for the AAF. Plenty of sun and sand, but I doubt any dancing for those fellas. Perhaps you’ll be attending tonight’s festivities? We have a whole bunch of boys sorely in need of dancing.”
“If I’m invited by William then I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
The vehicle sped down the unpaved roads passing makeshift, tarpaper roofed barracks, and a couple of fire trucks parked at the side. Two GIs waved to her as though they, too, knew her. She waved back, wondering, once again, if Will had shared her picture with the boys. As “Willy” drew closer to the tower, the roar of bomber planes grew louder. Lizzy leaned forward, gripping the top edge of the windshield since it was apparent that the captain loved to hotrod around the base with the same speed that she did on Long Island in her Zephyr. She highly approved, grinning widely at the rush as the butterflies beat eight to the bar in boogie rhythm inside her. Will was only minutes away.
They arrived onto a large airfield bordering a narrow taxiing path and landing strip where waves of heat seemed to cling to the surface of the reinforced concrete. Two arched hangers, various military maintenance vehicles, and at least six of the bombers Will wrote her about comprised a hive of activity. Marauders sat parked wing-to-wing, powerful and impressive, as ground crew echelon of technicians and maintenance repaired, refueled, and rechecked every component of these crafts destined to carry men into war. Beside it all, an air control tower, the nerve center of directives and radio communication, overlooked the airfield.
Welcome and unexpected as a gentle breeze, a zephyr in and of herself, Lizzy blew into the sea of army olive-drab with her vibrant light and bright spirit, shining like the sun. In awe of her surroundings, all she could say was “Wow!” at the dedicated industry of the Army Air Forces and the knowledge that her dreamboat was a part of it. Yes, Herbert Robertsen was correct—the power in the air was going to win this war.
“Impressive, isn’t it? Once farmers, clerks, or students, now they’re bombardiers, navigators, and mechanics. They’ve been transformed into a cohesive fighting unit. The B-26 is a magnificent bird now that we know how to fly her properly, but she takes muscle and skill.” He stopped the jeep parallel to where he anticipated the lieutenant’s plane to park in its apron. “And Lieutenant Martel is one of the Marauder Men’s finest pilots, seamlessly adapting to that twin engine immediately. Why, he makes that baby purr.”
The captain chuckled, now fully understanding why Martel’s particular aircraft responded in the way she did to his every touch. Yes, if command lets him, that baby will go with Lucky Bastard Martel to Europe and see him through this war. Unless of course, he gets shot down by this gorgeous dame first.
The scent of hot metal and high-octane fuel hung in the air, and Lizzy’s eyes scanned the imposing bomber parked beside her. “The B-26’s nickname ‘Widowmaker’… is that why they say ‘one a day into Tampa Bay’?”
“Well … yes, but don’t let that worry you. Martel is quite the Mustard in the cockpit and his aircraft goes by another name.”
Her eyes drew upward where she spotted approaching planes flying in formation in the distance.
When she climbed out of the jeep one leg after the other, it seemed every man around her froze in place, several whistled, but most just stopped and stared, blatantly distracted from the vital business of inspections and readying their assigned Marauders for flight.
She chortled when she observed, “Say, you boys don’t see many women around here, do you?”
Carter looked to the sky as the bombers took their landing positions, the first in line making its rapid descent. “Here’s the lieutenant now.”
Lizzy shielded the sun from her eyes as she watched Will drawing nearer by th
e second. She was no longer frightened by the alarming appellation everyone seemed to have given these bombers. Confidence in him abounded in her, admiration escalating as she watched how her flyboy landed his ship, appeared to drop from the cloudless sky at a fast yet controlled, steep angle. The only nerves she felt were those of anticipation, excitement, and the sudden insecurity that he might not be happy with her surprise arrival. Although, she simply adored surprises she hadn’t considered that his characteristic reticence might hold his excitement at bay, the kind of excitement she herself had always felt whenever bolted from the blue.
When his front wheel finally touched down, she was near bubbling over, almost bouncing in her green platform shoes. She was so proud! It wasn’t the Florida sun beating down on her causing the flush to her cheeks or the moisture building on her palms inside her cotton gloves, it was the mere fact that love was a spectacular, heated feeling, and it washed over her.
On the runway, Will sighed in relief at the smooth landing. It seemed as though he always held his breath even though he knew his ship like the back of his hand. He supposed that once he was in the thick of it, getting pounded by flak, his apprehension at every landing would subside.
“Tower says to taxi directly to the flight line,” McCarthy directed. “Seems you have a … a surprise waiting at the apron.”
He had an impish grin upon his face, one Will had grown accustomed to observing these three months but still couldn’t discern the mischief behind. The second lieutenant was quite a rabble-rouser.
Will tried to read his co-pilot’s expression. “Did I mention how much I hate surprises? It better not be the major telling me we’re going out for anti-submarine patrol tonight.”
“No, I don’t think so. We’ve got that U.S.O dance, and I’m hoping for a kiss from that Hollywood cookie, Frances Langford.”
“No, you have that U.S.O dance to attend. Not me.”
