by Garry Ryan
There was a knock on the door. Pauline stood up, opened the door, and was handed a tray of coffee and tea. Sharon got up and closed the door. She waited as Pauline poured herself a tea. Sharon poured a coffee from the carafe, then added cream and sugar.
Pauline sipped her tea. “I was hoping to hear your perspective on the Lady Ginette Elam situation.”
Even in war, the princess must be given her due. “What would you like to know?”
Pauline walked closer to the window. “I understand she left White Waltham quite abruptly.”
Sharon stood on the other side of the table. I know how to fly, but the niceties of British etiquette escape me. Oh, to hell with it! “Ask me direct questions. My answers will be equally direct.”
Pauline turned to her and smiled. “Why did Lady Ginette leave?”
“She made a racist remark about this man. I was a witness to her outburst.” Sharon pointed at Walter on the front page of the newspaper. “I said that her fascist leanings were showing.”
Pauline blinked.
“I also told her that Walter came to fight the Nazis, while she initially wanted to join them.” Sharon sipped her coffee, then went to add a bit more cream.
Pauline stared at Sharon, then began to laugh. “You didn’t!”
Sharon took a long breath and shrugged her shoulders. “She was a member of the British Union of Fascists.”
Pauline stopped laughing. “You’re joking.”
Sharon shook her head and sipped her sweetened coffee.
“How did you come by this information?”
Sharon shrugged.
“I was very sorry to hear about the death of your father-in-law.”
Pauline watched Sharon as she sipped her tea.
Pauline, you are very sharp! “So was I.”
“Be careful of Lady Ginette. She still has powerful friends in certain social and political circles.”
Sharon took another long breath. “I never have quite been able to understand British society. That’s the problem. I see what needs to be done, and then get it done. Afterward I find out that there were protocols to follow.”
Pauline shook her head. “After the war is over, some of those same people who were happy to have us risk our lives will expect you and me to stay home and become obedient wives and mothers.”
“After this war is over, it’s inevitable that things will be different. Too many people have risked everything and survived. It makes us much harder to control. Much harder for us to accept things as they are.”
Pauline smiled. “You’re an optimist.”
Sharon smiled back. “A realist. I didn’t fight to become a doormat.”
CHAPTER 34
[WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 1945]
Sharon landed at RAF Coningsby. It was on the east coast about one hundred miles north of London. The brand new Lancaster was being difficult on the taxiway. Sweat ran down the sides of Sharon’s face from the effort of working brakes and juggling engines. She wiped her face in the crook of her elbow once she was finally able to shut down in front of one of the green hangars. She grabbed her kit and scrambled down the length of the fuselage to the rear side door of the aircraft.
“Hello!” A mechanic stood under the wing of the bomber.
Sharon looked at the man, who wore a cap, grey coveralls, and a leather vest. “Afternoon.” She climbed out, turned, and walked up to the smaller opening set into the hangar door. She was careful not to trip over the bottom ledge and ducked so that she didn’t bang her head on the doorframe. Inside, there were three Lancasters crammed into the building. The hangar smelled of gasoline, oil, and India rubber. She looked down one wall and saw a sign that marked the location of the bathroom. I’m about to burst!
She dropped her parachute and bag on the concrete floor, went down the hallway, saw the open washroom door, stepped inside, and locked the door. She had to unzip her Irvine jacket, hang it up, unzip her flight suit, and shimmy out of that. Hurry! She sat down on the cold seat. The relief was ecstasy.
“You saw the flames. It was like something out of Dante.” The voice was a baritone. It came from a room across the hall from Sharon.
“I saw it. And I saw what the Nazi bombs did to Coventry and London.” This voice was a soprano.
“And those Nazi acts of terror unified us,” said Baritone. “Now we bomb a German city and unite its citizens against us. We haven’t learned a damned thing.”
“As far as I’m concerned,” Soprano said, “the Germans started the bombing of cities. Now they can find out what it’s like to be on the receiving end.”
“I can’t see how bombing a city like Dresden is going to help us win the war.”
“You sound like a fuckin’ bolshy. The Nazis started this war. They bombed their way across Europe. Their buzz bombs and V-2s have rained death down upon us. We gave ’em a taste of their own medicine last night.”
“Then,” Baritone said, “what makes us different from the Nazis if we attack civilian instead of military targets?”
“It’s a fuckin’ war! Not once around the block in the back seat of a London taxi!”
There was the sound of a slamming door. Footsteps stamped along the hall past the bathroom door and echoed inside the hangar.
Sharon stood up and began the process of putting her flight clothes back on. The zipper felt tighter than normal when it reached her chest. Christ, my breasts won’t fit in here if they get any bigger!
She walked out into the hallway just as a brown-haired pilot of twenty or twenty-one opened the door across the hall. He frowned, shook his head, and waited for her to precede him down the hallway.
“Thank you.” She stopped in the hangar to pick up her gear.
The pilot walked past her and headed for the door.
She saw him again as she stood in line at the NAAFI wagon. She juggled her parachute, her kit bag, a sandwich wrapped in wax paper, and a cup of coffee.
“Here. Let me at least hold the coffee,” the pilot said.
Sharon handed over her cup. She set the parachute and her bag against the wall of a hangar and unwrapped the wax paper so that she could get at the contents. “Thank you.” Sharon reached for her coffee.
The pilot handed it back to her. “Turner.”
Sharon sipped the coffee. “Lacey,” she replied and took a bite of sandwich.
“You must have heard us talking,” Turner said.
Sharon nodded as she chewed.
“I just don’t think bombing civilians is any way to win a war.” Turner pulled up the collar of his blue uniform jacket.
“I don’t know if it’s possible to fight a moral war. War, by definition, is immoral.” Sharon looked over at the Lancaster she’d just delivered and wondered what its first target would be.
“I suppose. But that doesn’t really address my point.”
Sharon saw the duty Anson land. “There’s my ride.”
“At least you in the ATA don’t have to become killers like the rest of us.” Turner bent to pick up her parachute.
“Who says I’m not a killer?”
Turner handed her the parachute without a word. Both realized there was no need to say anything. Sharon read the recognition in his eyes. He had figured out who she was.
Douglas taxied the Anson to the White Waltham hangar. Sharon tapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks.”
Douglas nodded and smiled.
“Aren’t you going to shut down?”
He shook his massive head. “One more short trip.”
She walked downhill to the side door, opened it, backed out, turned, and walked right into Walter. They were buffeted by the propeller wash.
“I’m off to join the Red Tails!” Walter hefted a duffel bag onto his shoulder. “McBride arranged this ride for me. I leave tonight for Ramitelli, Italy! Douglas is taking me to Croydon right now.”
Sharon hugged him as the air from the propellers pushed her hair into her eyes.
“Thank you!” Walter kissed her
cheek. Then he shoved his duffel bag into the Anson, followed it, and closed the door behind him. Sharon walked over to the hangar and watched as Douglas taxied to the runway and took off.
“He’s thrilled to be going. I’m going to miss him,” Ernie said.
“Me too.” Sharon looked beyond and saw a pair of pilots, two women who had been Lady Ginette’s followers. They were looking at Sharon and talking behind their hands. She had a flashback to her school days when girls would talk behind their hands when they discovered Sharon didn’t have a father. She walked toward the pilots. They turned and walked into dispersal.
“I got my orders today.” Ernie followed her.
Sharon turned and studied his face.
“I’m on my way home in a week. Assigned to Lincoln Park Airfield in Calgary. It comes with a promotion.” He smiled at her and cocked his head to one side.
“That is good news for you.” But not for me. She turned toward the dispersal hut.
“Walter says we have you to thank for our transfers.”
Sharon waved at Ernie without turning around. I’m afraid I’m going to start crying.
She found Mother behind his counter. He had the radio on and was listening to the BBC. Sharon and Mother listened to the announcer’s words:
British and US bombers have dropped hundreds of thousands of explosives on the German city of Dresden.
The city is reported to be a vital command centre for the German defense against Soviet forces approaching from the east.
Last night, 800 RAFBomber Command planes let loose 650,000 incendiaries, 8,000 pounds of high explosives, and hundreds of 4,000-pound bombs in two waves of attack. They faced very little anti-aircraft fire.
As soon as one part of the city was alight, the bombers went for another until the whole of Dresden was ablaze.
“There were fires everywhere, with a terrific concentration in the centre of the city,” said one Pathfinder pilot.
An RAFcrew reported smoke rising to a height of 15,000 feet.
CHAPTER 35
[THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 1945]
“How is Reginald doing?” Sharon stood in one corner of the White Waltham hangar.
Ernie stood beside her with his Popeye arms crossed. “He’s just a kid, but he knows his stuff.”
Reginald Kelly stepped through the open hangar door. He was taller than either Sharon or Ernie, his hair was black and he had a longish, royal nose. He wore white surgical gloves.
“Doesn’t like to get grease under his fingernails,” Ernie said out the side of his mouth.
“Reginald?” Sharon began to walk toward the nose of the Storch. Ernie followed.
Reginald nodded and walked toward them. “Yes, Flight Captain Lacey?”
“You all set to take over tomorrow?”
He stood at ease with his arms linked behind his back. “I believe so. What is your assessment, Mr. Shane?” Reginald turned his focus to Ernie.
“If you could be a little less fucking formal, things would be just fine.”
Reginald blinked. “My school chums call me Reggie.”
“I’m Sharon.”
Ernie smiled and offered his hand. “That’s more like it.”
Reggie peeled off his surgical glove and shook Ernie’s hand, then offered it to Sharon. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Sharon saw Ernie shake his head. Reggie looked from Ernie to Sharon. “I just meant that you look very healthy. Glowing, as a matter of fact.”
“Well. Thank you, Reggie. I’ll be off, then.” Ernie headed for the hangar door. He leaned over and picked up his toolbox. Sharon followed him out. “Let me help with that.”
“Not in your condition,” Reggie said.
“I’ll be fine,” Ernie said.
“I’ll walk with you.” Sharon dogged Ernie as he went around the side of the hangar to a waiting Jeep. Its springs sagged as the weight of the tools settled into the area behind the seats.
“He has a big mouth, too,” Ernie said.
“What was that all about?” Sharon faced Ernie and saw the red of embarrassment on his cheeks and forehead.
“Some of the pilots were talking. You know what it’s like around the hangar. Lots of people gossip, and they think mechanics are deaf.” Ernie shoved his hands into his pants pockets.
Sharon nodded and waited. Let him fill in the details.
“Couple of lady pilots from Lady Ginette’s crowd.” Ernie looked around nervously.
Sharon crossed her arms. “Spit it out, Ernie.”
“Pike and Dixon were talking about you and Walter. How you flew together to the States. And there’s been talk that you’re pregnant. It was about that.” Ernie looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.
“Oh,” Sharon said.
“I owe you. I owe you for getting me out of here before those crackers could get a hold of me.” Ernie faced her.
“Crackers?”
“That’s what Walter and Edgar called the MPs. And I owe you because you figured out what happened to Beck and didn’t turn me in.” Ernie put his fists on his hips.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sharon smiled. “Just make sure that you keep your promise.”
“No more killing?”
Sharon nodded. “That’s right. And when you get home, have some saskatoon pie and tell me all about it in a letter. God, I miss saskatoon pie.”
“But what about Lady Ginette’s crowd?” Ernie asked.
“What about them?” Sharon leaned against the side of the Jeep.
“They’re a nasty bunch. Who’s gonna watch your back?” Ernie tapped a forefinger on the metal top of the toolbox.
Sharon looked at the dispersal hut. “You think I can’t handle them?”
“I think they’re vicious,” Ernie said.
Sharon nodded. “Harry — Michael’s father — said I was more than a match for that crowd. I’ve lived through five years of this war. Don’t you worry about me.”
CHAPTER 36
[MONDAY, MARCH 19, 1945]
“Where’s Milton?” Sharon asked when she walked into the kitchen at the cottage.
Linda looked up from her cup of tea. Her eyes were red.
“What happened?” Sharon began to feel that familiar tension arriving the moment before bad news is delivered.
“He’s gone. They called him back. He starts training on Tempests tomorrow morning.” Linda dropped her chin into her housecoat.
Shit! It seems I’m delivering a Tempest every day to the continent.The losses are very high. Sharon put her arm around Linda’s shoulder. “Do you want to go out?”
Linda shook her head. “Do you want to know what’s especially pathetic?”
Sharon waited.
“I was hoping I might be pregnant, but I found out when I got home that I’m not.” Linda began to weep. She tried to speak and could not.
Sharon held Linda close as her friend’s body was ripped by sobs.
Five minutes later, Linda said, “I thought I lost him once. I don’t want to lose him again.”
CHAPTER 37
[SATURDAY, MARCH 31, 1945]
Mother lifted the phone receiver and held it in the air. He caught Sharon’s eye. “Call for you.”
Sharon switched her glass of milk to her left hand and took the receiver with her right. “Lacey.”
“McBride. You busy over there?”
“It’s kind of slow for a Saturday. In fact, we’re ahead on deliveries for a change.” Sharon took a sip of milk.
“Good. I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes.” McBride hung up.
Sharon handed the phone to Mother. He hung it up. “Headed somewhere?” he asked.
“Apparently.”
“It’s difficult to adjust to you drinking milk instead of coffee.” Mother smiled at her.
Sharon nodded.
“I also wanted to ask a favour.” Mother crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
&
nbsp; Sharon waited.
“I’d like to go along on a trip sometime before the war is over.” Mother began to blush.
“When?”
“When you need an extra pair of eyes or you have room for a passenger.” Mother looked out the window.
“It would be my pleasure. Do you want to come along today?”
“No, not today. What I’d really like is a ride in a Mosquito or a Lancaster.”
“Okay.” I hope I’ll be able to deliver on this promise.
McBride’s grey-green Buick with the star on its side drove up exactly twenty-five minutes later. She walked out into sunshine, budding leaves, and songbirds. An American sergeant who wasn’t a day over nineteen opened the rear door for her. She climbed into the back seat with McBride.
Colonel McBride smiled. “Something has come up, and I need an expert’s input.”
“Where are we going?” Sharon asked as the sergeant climbed into the front seat and drove the Buick away from White Waltham.
“Croydon.”
“Why not fly?”
“It’s a pleasant day for a drive, I think. It’s only about fifty miles. We should be there in an hour.” McBride pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.
“Do you mind not smoking, please? I haven’t been feeling well.” Sharon watched McBride’s reaction.
He stuffed the cigarettes back in his pocket. “A disgusting habit, anyway. My wife says the same thing.”
It took more than an hour to reach Croydon while traveling along English roads through a series of towns along the southwestern edge of London.
When they approached Croydon airfield and passed the guard post, McBride said, “Things have been going well. The ground troops have invaded Germany, Berlin’s air defences grow weaker every day, and there hasn’t been a rocket attack since last Tuesday in Kent. It looks like we might be nearing the end of the war. I wanted you to see what a German test pilot brought us.”
The sergeant parked in front of a massive white Bellman hangar. The building’s wide front doors were closed. MPs armed with submachine guns stood at each corner.
Two of the MPs saluted as Colonel McBride climbed out of the Buick and led Sharon to a side door. An MP opened the door for McBride, and Sharon followed him inside. The door closed behind them.
