The Widow's Choice (26 page)

“Good-bye, Jason, and God keep you.”

She followed him to the front door, and when he opened it he turned around and studied her, memorizing her features. As far as he knew, this might be the last time he’d see this woman. He took in the self-possessed curve of her mouth, her fair complexion, and the smooth ivory of her throat.

He had loved her for a long time but had never said so because of her marriage to Oscar. Now he couldn’t leave her without letting her know his true feelings. “Alona, I know it won’t ever come to anything—there are too many things against it—but I want you to know . . . I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time.” Without another word he left, walking away at a rapid gait. He got into his car and drove off without even a wave.

Alona stood there shocked and shaken. She felt tears flood
her eyes and she began to sob. “O God, forgive me, but I love him too. Take care of him, Lord, and keep him safe.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“He Can’t Cut It!”

Staring out the window from his desk in Pensacola, Florida, Commander Lloyd Baker should have been happy, for the weather was beautiful. Having grown up in Boston, he was accustomed to heavy snows, freezing weather, and generally miserable conditions. Miserable for flying, that is, which pretty much consumed his life. Now the sun shone bright and brilliant, even in mid-December. He noticed a group of his pilots throwing a baseball around laughing, most of them wearing shorts and T-shirts.

“They’d better enjoy that,” Commander Baker growled deep in his throat. “Where they’re going, they won’t be tossing a baseball around very much.” Glancing up at the calendar on the wall, he noted the date: December 15, 1941. Only eight days since Japan had opened the door to an all-out war for the United States of America. The bright sunshine outside made a stark contrast with the dark gloominess that filled Lloyd Baker’s mind. He, along with other pilots who flew for the U.S. Navy, had foreseen the situation coming. It had infuriated Baker, but he had been unable to convince any of the higher-ups of the military world, and certainly not of the political world, that Japan was not going to lie down and roll over.

Getting up from his chair, Baker walked over and looked out the window at the landing field. He counted the Douglas SBD-3 Dauntless dive bombers and the Douglas TBD
Devastator torpedo bombers and shook his head. “Too few,” he said loudly. “Not near enough.”

A knock interrupted his thoughts, and he barked, “Come in!” Baker had the habit of speaking sharply even when he gave a cheery good morning to the men in his command. As he expected, Captain Hack Odom came through the door and saluted sloppily.
Odom does everything sloppily,
the commander thought as he returned the salute crisply. Everything, that is, except fly the Dauntless aircraft. That he did with precision, speed, accuracy, and a deadly attitude toward the enemy. But the man’s uniform, as always, looked as if he had slept in it, and he seemed to have a perpetual problem with standing at attention. The commander had to laugh. “You look like you just got out of the drunk tank in Boston, Hack.”

“I’m disappointed you should say that, sir. I paid a lot of attention to my personal appearance this morning.”

Hack Odom was a short man built like a beer keg. He had bristly black hair that he kept cut short and always needed a shave—or seemed to. His face, which reminded Lloyd of a bulldog, was broad, tough, and scarred—a broken nose and a cauliflower ear testifying to a violent past. He had played football for the navy and could have gone into the pros, but he was a navy man to the bone.

“Sit down, Hack. I’ve got a problem.”

“You’ve got more than one, Commander.” Hack grinned. “You’ve got the whole Japanese Navy to get rid of.”

“You’re right about that, and not enough manpower or equipment to do it with. How is your squadron looking?”

“A bit spotty. The boys are all hopped up about the Japs, but they think the way to answer that is to pour on the coal. Don’t think that’ll work too well.”

“I’m afraid you’re right about that, Hack. They’ve got us outgunned.”

“But they didn’t get our carriers at Pearl,” Hack said quickly. “That’s the good news.”

“They’re the only thing that can save our bacon. We both
know that. We’re going to meet up with them sooner or later. This will be a carrier war in the Pacific. Battleships don’t count anymore.”

Hack laughed. “I know some admirals who would have you busted for saying a thing like that, sir.”

“Old fossils! Should have been put on the beach years ago.”

“Well, General Billy Mitchell tried to reform the navy. You know what happened to him.”

The two men sat silently for a moment, thinking about the man who had had the right idea but was too early for the brass above him.

“I wish we had Billy back with us now,” Lloyd Baker said wistfully. “We could use him.”

“Sure could. But we’ve got some good boys coming up. They just need the whip. It’s funny. I see these young guys coming in, and it’s like when I go to a doctor now. I put my life in a kid’s hand who looks like he ought to be taking up tickets at a movie theater.”

“It takes young fellows to fly the Dauntless. You know that better than I do, Hack.”

The two men reminisced for a time, and all the while Hack Odom was aware that his commanding officer was holding something back. Finally he grinned and said, “You’re trying to give me some bad news, sir. Why don’t you just give it to me and be done with it?”

Baker returned the grin. “Am I that easy to read? Remind me never to play poker with you.” He rocked back and forth in his chair a few times and then stopped himself. “I’ve got a problem, but it’s not necessarily a bad problem.”

“It’s a good problem, then.”

“It could be good. Have you ever heard of Jason Moran?”

“Don’t believe I have. Who is he?”

“He was a pilot. He flew under me when I was a squadron commander just like you are now. He sailed through our whole program at the top of his class. Best flier I ever saw, Hack.”

“Better than me?”

“Nobody’s better than you, but he could have been.”

“What happened?”

“He had some tough luck. That fellow could put the bomb on the target better than any flier I’ve ever seen. It was almost like magic. Give Jason a plane and a bomb, and he could put it right down a smoke stack no more than two feet wide.”

“It sounds like the kind of fellow we need. Where is he?”

“He’s here on the base. He wants to join up again.”

“So what’s the problem? If he can put the bomb on the target—”

“There’s more to it than that. He crashed his plane, Hack. Mechanical failure. It wasn’t his fault, but after that he lost his nerve.”

Odom frowned. “Lots of fellows have problems with that, especially after a bad crash.”

“It really wasn’t that bad. He walked out of the wreckage with a couple bruises and scratches. I was with him the next day when we put him in a new plane. He couldn’t do it.”

“What do you mean he couldn’t do it?”

“He couldn’t even take off, Hack. The rest of us went on our mission, and Moran just sat there on the ground. When I came back, I saw he was a mess. His hands were shaking, and I’d never seen that before. He had always been real cool. Never nervous. I asked him what was the matter.”

“What did he say?”

“He couldn’t say anything except, ‘I can’t do it.’ ”

“What? That’s all?”

“Yep. But we kept him around. I talked to him. We had the shrinks talk to him. He was fine until he got into the cockpit, and then he would begin to tremble. Couldn’t do a thing.”

“What did you do with him?”

“What could I do? He washed out, of course. He only had a few months to serve. He left. I lost track of him—that is, until he walked into my office yesterday. He wants to join up again.”

“Has he been up since his problem started?”

“He says not. Of course I told him we couldn’t use a pilot that couldn’t take off.”

“What’d he say?”

“He didn’t argue. He said, ‘I’d like another chance, but if you won’t take me, I’ll go into the infantry.’ ”

“I guess Pearl Harbor changed his mind. Changed a lot of minds.”

“I suppose so. I told him he’d have to prove himself before I’d take him.”

“And you want me to check him out. Is that right, sir?”

“That’s right.”

“That shouldn’t be any trouble. He either can take off or he can’t. Where is he?”

“He’s out on the field. I got him geared up, and he’s waiting.”

“Okay. I’ll go see if he can get off the ground.”

“I hope he makes it. He’s a likable fellow, Hack. But more important than that, we need every man we can get, and we need them right now! The old Moran I knew would be ready to go. So go put him in a plane.”

“Yes, sir, I will, and I’ll report back. It may not take long.”

“I hope he makes it. We need men like that, at least men like he was. I’ll be anxious to hear your report, Hack.”

Jason had donned his flight suit and waited in the shade of the building. The pilots were laughing and joking; some of them glanced at him curiously but said nothing.

“Moran?”

He got up at once and saluted the short, stocky officer who was wearing flight gear. “Jason Moran, sir.”

“I’m Captain Hack Odom, the squadron leader. I’ve been talking to Commander Baker. He tells me you have a problem.”

“Yes, sir, I’ve had a problem.”

“What makes you think you can fly now? You couldn’t the last time you were in a plane.”

“I don’t know that I can.”

Odom stared at the young man. Moran was pale and obviously tense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I won’t know if I can fly until I get in an airplane.”

“We don’t have time for psychological treatment here, Moran. We’re going on a training mission. We’ll be dropping our bombs on a target. You’ve been through all that before.”

“Yes, sir.”

“No sense talking, then. You either can or you can’t. Let’s go.”

Jason walked across the field. The concrete was blisteringly hot under his feet, and the sun was blazing down. They approached one of the planes, and Captain Odom said, “Turner, take a break.”

Lieutenant Turner looked surprised but merely nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said. “If you want to eat something, tell me what it is and I’ll go eat it for you.”

“Get out of here.” Odom laughed shortly and then addressed Jason. “You take this ship and fly on my right wing.” He went on to show him a photo of the training area and showed him where he should drop his bomb.

As Odom went to his own plane, something like an invisible cloud settled over Jason. He was aware of the planes, of the roar of engines, of the shouts of the men to their mechanics, of the white clouds drifting lazily across the sky, but he felt almost detached from the situation. His mind kept trying to go back to the moment before impact when he had crashed. He half expected his hands to begin to tremble and perspiration to break out all over his face, but somehow that did not happen. A sergeant was at his side and asked, “Are you ready, sir?”

Jason glanced around to see that the other pilots were climbing into their planes. He said, “Yes, sergeant.” He got into the plane, and the sergeant checked his harness. He was conscious of the parachute pressing against him, of the
controls and the stick. He automatically checked the instruments and throttled up the engine.

“Good luck, sir!” the sergeant yelled and disappeared. Suddenly a voice blasted into his ear through the radio in his helmet. “Ready for takeoff!”

Jason gripped the throttle and waited for the mindless terror to overtake him as it had the last time he had sat in the cockpit of a Dauntless.

But it did not come! Expertly he advanced the throttle, and the Dauntless stirred under his touch. He glanced out and saw the squadron leader, Hack Odom, watching from another plane. He nodded, and Odom returned the nod. Then Jason moved his aircraft forward.

As Jason taxied into position to begin his takeoff, he kept waiting for the old fear to paralyze him. He expected it. He was going through this mainly because he had promised Alona he would, but now as the plane began to gain speed, he felt an emotion he had not felt since he had flown before the accident. It was joy and exhilaration.

“It’s all gone! I’m not afraid!” he said aloud, forgetting that his radio was open.

Hack Odom’s voice came crackling into his ear. “Keep off the radio, Moran! Nobody cares whether you’re afraid or not. Now, follow me.”

The Dauntless was obedient in his hands. Jason took off smoothly and jammed himself immediately under the right wing of the squadron leader.

“Get out of my pocket, will you!” Odom snapped. “We’re not flying closed formations.”

“Yes, sir.”

The sky was large and spacious, and as Jason rose up along with his squadron, following the formations Captain Odom was putting them through, he began to praise God.
I know this is you, O Lord, and I thank you for it. I know it was the prayers of others that brought me here. Thank you
for taking away the fear. Help me to serve with honor and to always remember that you have not given us the spirit of fear.