Silver Wings (5 page)

“Marvelous,” Helen replied, a small smile playing on her lips.

A disembodied yell of “Cadets!” halted any further conversation.

Adele stood up from her bed and looked out of the window at the front of their bunkhouse.

“Everyone else is going out, we should git goin’,'' she opened the door and stepped out leaving the door open for the others to follow.

Helen motioned to Lily to go first and then followed behind. They left the bay and joined the assembled women, lined up in pairs, outside. Lily stood next to Helen; both stood ramrod straight their eyes fixed upon an indeterminate point in front of them.

“What in the name of Roosevelt have you got on your feet?” Foster yelled as she halted her walk down the ranks at their unit.

Lily froze. Thinking that the shout was aimed at her, she looked down quickly towards the saddle shoes she had changed into. However, as she looked down she saw where Foster was directing her query. Adrienne stood in front of her, her overalls, rolled up at the feet, revealing bright red platform heels. Lily bit at her lip to stop laughter from spilling out.

“I'm wearing what's comfortable,” Adrienne replied innocently.

“You think you'll be able to fly in those?” Foster asked her tone full of challenge. “You planning on being an HP in heels?”

Adrienne regarded her footwear and smiled. “I can do anything in these,” she replied her tone full of suggestion. “Ma'am,” she added.

“What’s your name cadet?”

“Adrienne Rosecroft, ma’am.”

The Establishment Officer shook her head. “Okay Rosecroft, step out,” she motioned with her arm towards her and Adrienne fell out of the line up and walked towards the officer,

“HP?” Lily whispered out the side of her mouth.

“Hot Pilot,” Helen whispered in response.

Foster scanned the footwear of the other cadets, seeing Helen wearing a pair of men's lace up boots she nodded.

“You!” she shouted, pointing towards Helen. “Step out.”

Helen shot Lily a quick look of panic, thinking she was about to be chewed out for talking in line. Lily gave her an apologetic look thinking the same and risked a whispered apology as she passed. She stepped out and stood beside Adrienne.

“You see that over there?” Foster pointed towards a small reflecting pool near to their barracks. “That's the wishing well, I want to see how comfortable those shoes are. When I say go you're going to run against…”

“Richmond,” Helen offered.

“Richmond. There and back,” Foster looked towards the two women expectantly.

Adrienne turned to look at Helen and raised an eyebrow towards her.

“Ready…Steady…Go!” Foster yelled.

Despite not knowing the two women racing, the women standing in line quickly picked sides and yelled supportively as they sprinted towards the pool. Thanks to her longer legs, and in spite of her ridiculous footwear, Adrienne had gained an advantage on Helen who skidded on the loose gravel. The tall redhead reached the pool first bending down quickly to tag the concrete surround before turning and tearing back towards Foster. As she reached the officer with a panting Helen shortly behind her, Adrienne slowed to a halt.

“Wellesley College track team,” Adrienne smirked when she noticed Foster's raised brows.

Foster laughed, shaking her head. “Okay, you can wear them for tonight. Tomorrow when you're in Sweetwater, get something more suitable. Fall in.”

The two women walked back to their places slightly out of breath. Adrienne waited until Foster was out of earshot before turning to smile at Helen.

“Thanks.”

“No idea what you're talking about.”

Adrienne shook her head giving Helen a knowing smile, “You threw that race and you know it Richmond, so thank you.”

She turned to face the front as they set off at a quick march pace.

***

Several hours later after being immunized against small pox, tetanus, and typhoid, given a dental identification survey and a visual acuity test, they were sitting crossed-legged on the floor of a classroom together, while being lectured on personal hygiene. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” Helen whispered, leaning forward to put her head between Lily and Adrienne’s heads as she rubbed her still sore arm from the earlier injection. “They're seriously telling us about washing our bits and bobs!”

Lily tilted her head and never taking her eyes off the front of the room murmured a response, “I know! I mean I, for one, have never had a problem washing my bobs.”

Helen laughed turning it into a cough as one of the medical officers glared their way. She sat back and schooled her face into an interested expression; soon however, she found her attention wandering and drawn to the captivating woman in front of her.

 Lily seemed to be growing in confidence as the day wore on. Her dark hair was pinned in a more relaxed style than the day of her interview; long lashes framed the dark brown eyes that held Helen captive anytime they were directed at her. Full lips that seemed to give Lily an almost continual sensual pout were currently pursed in concentration as she gave her attention to the speaker at the front of the room. Her long slender fingers absently beat a tattoo against her shin as she listened intently. As the speaker changed, Helen realized she had not heard a word spoken and reluctantly she returned her attention to the officers, however despite her best intentions her eyes continued to observe Lily.

Thirty minutes later, they were shuffling into the mess hall lining up with their metal mess trays waiting for lunch to be slopped onto their tray.

“Excuse me, what kind of meat is this?” Lucy asked the woman dishing out the food.

“Cooked. Now move on fly girl,” came the curt reply.

Lucy looked down at the undistinguishable meat and screwed her face up moving on to receive her portion of potatoes. She slipped onto the bench beside her other bunkmates. “Do you have any idea what kind of meat this is?” she asked as she slid her tray onto the table.

Adrienne poked around the food with her fork. “The cadets that wash out?” she replied drolly. “What the hell are these?” she asked poking around at the white substance on her plate.

Adele looked over and smiled.

 “Why those are grits,” she answered. Seeing that her response had not cleared the matter up for Adrienne she looked at her in surprise. “Ain't you ever eaten grits afore?”

The redhead took a small amount onto her fork and lifted it towards her mouth. “Are you sure I should be eating them?” she asked before taking a small amount into her mouth. She swallowed the grits then shrugged. “They don't taste of much,” she remarked.

“They taste o’ grits!” Adele laughed. “If you don't want ‘em I'll have ‘em,” she said grinning as Adrienne lifted her tray and scraped the offending item onto her tray.

They ate in relative silence each woman silently assessing what their lives were going to be like from the brief view of life at Avenger Field that they had seen so far. After lunch, they were shown around the base taking in the administration buildings, the hangars including the ready room where their flight leathers and parachutes were packed and stored, and the observation deck, which gave them a three hundred and sixty view around the base and the runways.

Following their orientation tour, they were standing in formation in one of the hangars when their commanding officer joined them.

He stood in front of them his hands crossed at his back. “Welcome to Avenger Field. My name is Captain Hardy. I'm your base commander. Ladies you may be good civilian pilots. I believe amongst you that we have a lot of air hours and experience. Some of you will be used to crop dusting and I believe one amongst you was flying stunt planes in Hollywood, but this is army flying and by the end of your twenty-three weeks some of you will have returned home.”

The women looked at each other trying to work out who flew stunt planes in Hollywood, trying to ignore the shadow of failure that hovered over each, and every, one of them. They returned their attention back towards the red-haired officer who was now striding up and down their lines.

“You will be taken through army check flights by my instructors at each stage of your training. Fail any of these and you will be washed from the program. You will be expected to learn about the principles of flight and the mechanics of engines. You will learn navigation, weather, instrument flying and communications. Fail any of these and you will be washed from the program.”

He finished his speech with a rousing, “Are we going to make army pilots of you?”

He received an emphatic, “Sir. Yes. Sir.”

Satisfied, he nodded towards Foster then left them to continue their tour of the facilities.

The rest of their afternoon was spent filling out forms and being drilled on the rules and regulations that would be in place during their stay. Finally, after their evening meal they were enjoying their recreation time before they would return to their bay for lights out. The women were huddled in small groups; some reading the small gazettes produced by the WASP that filled them in on the activities around the base, others huddled around the radio listening for news from the war and enjoying the music programs.

Lily sat beside Helen who was cussing under her breath as she tried to sew her WASP patch carrying the image of the Disney designed mascot Fifinella onto her A-2 leather flying jacket. She yelped and pulled her finger up into her mouth as she pricked herself for around the tenth time. Lily rolled her eyes and reached over pulling the jacket from Helen's lap, the blonde woman furrowed her brows as she sucked on her injured finger, “Wha ou doin?'“

“Saving you from certain death,” Lily replied, picking up the needle and starting to sew the patch.

“I pricked my finger, how am I going to die from that?” Helen asked looking at her finger as the blood started to bubble again from the small hole.

Lily stilled her hands and looked up towards Helen who was still looking quizzically at her bleeding finger, “Because, if I have to watch you butchering this patch any longer, I may be forced to kill you!”

Helen's eyes widened and her lips tugged into a smile as she popped her bleeding finger back into her mouth, “Fankyou.”

Twenty minutes later and Lily had unpicked Helen's handiwork and attached the patch neatly.

“All done. I think I may head back to the bunk,” she smiled wearily; now that the excitement from the day had calmed down she felt a tiredness start to overwhelm her.

Helen accepted her jacket and stood up shrugging it onto her slender shoulders, “I'll come back too, I don't know about you but I'm ready to trip over my eye lids.”

Lily nodded silently and gathered her things together. As they prepared to leave the other occupants of Bay Four noticed their departure and by silent agreement rose to leave.

They practically fell over themselves apologizing for getting in the way as they each tried to get ready for bed, waiting patiently to brush their teeth while someone used the toilet, moving aside to allow each access to the mirror. Finally, they were all dressed in their pajamas and one by one slipped into their small army bunks pulling the sheets and blankets over them.

Helen lay in her cot and stared up at the ceiling processing all that had happened during the day when she heard a snort behind her.

 “It's eight o’clock.”

She turned onto her stomach and looked over the small walking space between their beds towards Marjorie who was lying on her front her elbows propped on her pillow while she looked at her watch, “I'm in bed and it’s eight o’clock!”

Soon all the Bay Four residents had turned onto their front and were looking at each other in amusement.

“I don't think I've ever been in my bed at eight o’clock,” Adrienne mused. “At least not alone,” she added which received a burst of laughter from the other women. She turned onto her side and rested her head onto her hand.

“We have two hours before lights out. How about we find out a bit more about each other. Adele?” Adrienne looked over towards the small brunette, “We know you're from Tennessee. Are you married?”

Adele gave a shy smile, “Engaged. My fiancé is over in England at the moment…we're gonna get married when he gets back.”

Adrienne smiled, “What's his name?”

“Mathew,” Adele couldn't help the grin that spread across her face as she thought about her sweetheart. “Mathew Winchester the Third. I've known him since we weren't much more off the ground than a cricket’s belly.”

The women smiled as Adele shuffled under blankets to get comfortable.

“Okay, now for the good stuff,” Adrienne grinned rolling back onto her front. She narrowed her eyes and looked across at Adele, “First time?”

“We were fifteen in my daddy's barn, was over before I even got started,” Adele pursed her lips together at the memory.

Adrienne's eyebrows shot up and she rose up onto her knees. “Oh God Adele, sorry no… I meant first time flying! How you knew you wanted to…,” she stuttered in embarrassment. “I meant first time flying solo.”

 The other women roared with laughter as both Adrienne and Adele blushed at the misunderstanding.

“I don't know, I love flying but I'm more interested in hearing about the barn,” Marjorie smiled mischievously.

Adele's color darkened even further in embarrassment, “Believe me the flying was better! I was sixteen when I first flew solo; I became obsessed when I was little. My grandma died when I was six and someone told me she was up in the sky. Ever since, I wanted to go up into the sky to be close to her. My Pa, he had an old beat up 75 Kaydet for crop dusting an’ I learnt in that.” Adele chewed on her lips and, taking a deep breath, put a smile back onto her face, “An’ that's that! How ‘bout you Adrienne? You married and when was your first?”

Adrienne's fingers automatically went to her neck where a simple wedding band hung around her neck, “Nope, not married.” She gave a forced smile feeling the simple act of speaking the words aloud choke in her throat. She had made the decision to lie about her marriage to Ben when she knew that she would be training in Texas; a state that regarded her marriage illegal thanks to the color of Ben's skin. Her mind flittered to her husband who, to her great pride, was part of the 99th Pursuit Squadron; a small group of black men trained to fly, and was to the best of her knowledge now in Europe somewhere.