Wings (10 page)

Morning came before any of the women were ready for it. Too few hours were left for shuteye by the time the ladies ran out of steam the night before. But the beds didn’t rumble and roll beneath them, and Liddy and Bet had a welcome rest.

The cattle car, as the trainees had nicknamed it, pulled up at ten a.m. sharp. The chunky green Army truck, with an enclosed GI trailer in tow, rolled to a stop in front of the hotel. Women began to file out and form a long line down the sidewalk. An enlisted man helped the women and their bags on board, while the civilian driver took names and ticked off his list. One by one they climbed into the back door of the trailer to take their three mile ride to Avenger Field. As Liddy and Bet waited to board, Bet saw a fashionably dressed woman attempting to maneuver four large suitcases out of the front door of the hotel.

“Looks like someone needs a hand.” Bet tugged Liddy’s sleeve and pointed with the nod of her head.

“Looks like someone didn’t get the word about one suitcase,” said Liddy.

The long scarf that had been wrapped around the woman’s neck was now hanging off her shoulder and caught in the handle of one of her cases. Liddy and Bet giggled, but when the other women began to laugh, they left the line and went back up the walk to help.

“Looks like your luggage is turning on you,” Liddy teased as she untangled the scarf and Bet helped the woman put herself back together.

“Thank you.” The woman’s blue eyes and fair skin sparkled as she smiled a graceful, friendly smile and floated her right hand out in front of her. She squeezed Bet’s and Liddy’s hands gently and introduced herself with a soft soprano lilt, “Marina George. Where’s the bellman?”

Bet asked Liddy, “Is she kidding?”

“Oh, honey, where do you think you are?” Liddy asked Marina.

Marina’s sun-yellow taffeta dress fit snug on her curvy torso, pinched her tiny little waist and flowed into a full skirt that hung just above her ankles. She wore a matching short jacket, high heels and wide-brimmed hat that crowned her silky black hair, which was wrapped in a swirl on the back of her head.

“Mother would be impressed,” Bet whispered to Liddy and giggled.

The three women finished introducing themselves, divided up the luggage and took a spot at the end of the line. Liddy noticed a stream of townspeople parading down the sidewalk on both sides of the street. All were dressed in picnic clothes and carried parasols and baskets.

“What’s the occasion?” Liddy asked the driver before she stepped up into the trailer.

“Folks get out when they can on Saturday, picnic and watch the gals take the planes up.”

“Hoping for a crash,” snickered the enlisted man.

“Hank, shut-up would ya’?” the driver blasted.

“Hey, there was a time they wouldn’t let their children play outside when any of you were airborne. They’re warming up to you broads.”

Liddy entered the trailer and Bet and Marina followed, looking back at the people that passed by. When the last passenger boarded, the women were squished shoulder to shoulder down the benches that lined each side of the trailer. The truck pulled out with a jolt, and the cargo slid down the hard, metal seats and shifted to the rear.

The ride to their home for the next five and a half months was bumpy. The trailer rocked back and forth and Liddy and Bet’s train ride was looking pretty luxurious. By the time the truck pulled through the arch of Avenger Field, many of the women were queasy. Those that still had the stomach, knelt on the benches for a look out the windows.

The Fifinella, the gremlin mascot of the WASP, was mounted on top of the arch that read:
Avenger Field
. She had originally been designed by Walt Disney for Roald Dahl’s book,
Gremlins,
and she was a spunky looking gal. Her blue and grey wings splayed from her back, and her curly white horns peaked out of the yellow aviator cap that framed two big, long-lashed eyes.

Even the woozy among them were smiling. They had finally arrived. The trailer made its way past four large hangers and long rows of clapboard-sided barracks. What looked like forty or more women formed two long lines and marched side-by-side going one direction, while another group of the same size came into view from the other direction. The two lines of troops looked as though they might crash, but as they were about to intersect, one group held up and marched in place and the other line hoofed through. The only marching Liddy had seen, till that moment, was at the picture show. Never had she seen women at the task. A beautiful gathering of planes were lined up along a runway, and every stitch of ground seemed to have some form of plane, man or woman on it, but it was mostly women.

Two senior trainees were waiting for the new class when they stepped clumsily from the trailer. The seniors hollered at the women to “line-up.” A jagged line was formed and the seniors led the clumsy parade across the base.

Planes buzzed overhead like busy nectar farmers in a spring garden. The invisible filaments that pull any pilots’ chin skyward when they hear an engine above, tugged and craned the women’s necks to take in the lovely sight.

They passed the flight boards filled with names of students, instructors and planes that were in the air. The line traipsed past the wishing well, or so the round pool of water was called. It had three foot high stone walls and was currently studded with trainees who looked on as a classmate was swung with a splash into the pool. The reason why was relayed down the line of marchers, “She passed her solo. Gals toss a coin in before they go up, then if they pass, they get tossed in to get one back.”

The parade stopped at the administration building to take their Oath of Office. As Liddy raised her right hand and began, “I do solemnly swear…” she thought,
What would Daddy say about all this?
Having made their Oath, the human snake was off to the recreation hall. Women were playing ping pong, reading and some even found a way to sleep in the mix. Marina George noticed how unkempt and haggard the women appeared. She touched her own face with concern and whispered back to Bet, “Is frumpy part of the dress code?”

Four upper-class women were perched on the back of a sofa and together they inspected the newest batch of trainees. One of them pinched up her little mouth and called out to Bet as she passed, “Hey CT, better pick up the pace or you’re gonna miss your OT and then you won’t get you BA or make it to your CR in the PT to get SEs much less TEs.”

A violet-eyed gal, sitting next to the mocker, grinned at the taunt. Her curly blonde hair was wrapped in a cascading bouquet on the top of her head, and whether by birth or hours of cross country flying, she had Rowby Wills skin. She was striking and had the look of a movie star without any of the effort.

Bet was completely overwhelmed and Liddy caught up to her and pushed her along.

“We’re in a foreign country,” the little redhead whispered back to Liddy as she nibbled furiously on a fingernail.

A tiny no-nonsense woman in uniform jumped up on a table. “Welcome, Class. Gather round and listen up.”

The trainees shuffled into position to hear the orientation. Bet stood between Liddy and Marina and held onto the cuff of Liddy’s jacket.

“I am your Establishment Officer or house mother as you will. I will be taking care of your housing assignments and dealing with issues of moral conduct. Although this program has been successful in supplying the Army Air Force with pilots for non-combat duties, it is still considered experimental, and its future is dependent on each and every one of you. Our rules of conduct must be strictly observed...”

“Here it comes,” Marina predicted.

“… The program’s reputation is at stake. You will not socialize with Army officers, enlisted personnel or civilian instructors. You are to stay out of planes piloted by men with the exception of training flights, checkrides and returning to base from ferry missions….”

“Who needs men? Just the fact that we’re pilots gives us a loose rep,” Marina joked to Bet.

“Isn’t it great?” Bet whispered back.

“…. You will be given a list of the expectations for how you are to keep up your bays…”

“Bays?” Bet questioned Liddy.

“Rooms,” Liddy clarified.

“There will be standing inspections every Saturday, and spot inspections at the discretion of the base command. Demerits will be given for any violations. From here, you will report to the supply depot where you will be issued bedding and flight gear. You will be required to purchase general’s pants and white shirts for ground school. And those of you, who are still in the program upon graduation, will need to purchase a dress uniform. If you brought more than one suitcase, pick your favorite, the rest is going into storage…”

Marina gasped and looked down at her luggage. Evidently she didn’t get the word.

“… From the supply depot you will go straight to the barracks and move into your homes for the next twenty-two and half weeks. You will sleep six to a bay, two bays to a bathroom—that’s twelve bodies, ladies. Be quick, be courteous and be clean. You will have twenty minutes or less to clean up from morning flight instruction for ground school. You’ll rise at o-six hundred hours and lights out is at twenty-two hundred hours. Get situated, suit up, grab some grub then report to the flight line for your first checkrides at fourteen hundred hours. You’re dismissed.”

The class shuffled back into line and followed their guides to the supply depot. As they made their way through the room, they balanced the growing pile of bedding and clothes in the crooks of their arms, while still lugging their suitcases. Marina’s gear was an extra burden and Liddy and Bet were struggling to wrangle the load, but Marina still managed to move with grace or at least she attempted to.

Once at the bays, the women were led down the row of barracks that would be filled with their class. There they were left to find their rooms. Bet, Marina and Liddy put in to share a bay and together walked down the concrete porch, looking for their room number through the mesh of the wood-framed screen doors. At
B7
, Liddy set down her luggage and held open the door.

“After you, ladies.” Liddy waved Bet and Marina in.

Six metal beds with bare mattresses were posted along the two sides of the room, four on one side and two on the wall with the door to the bathroom. A table was attached to the walls on either end and six chairs were divided between them. With the exception of the lockers, which were actually wood boxes (their closets) that stood next to each bed, the walls were sterile.

Three women were already in the room and had staked out their beds. When their new roommates entered they looked up from their unpacking and, “Hi,” and “Hello,” were exchanged with smiles. Marina peeked into the bathroom, which consisted of two sinks, one mirror, two showers and a door to the other bay of six women who would be sharing the facilities.

The empty beds were chosen and all of the suitcases were emptied into the lockers and their cases slipped under the beds. Bet held up her flight suit. The folds fell to the floor revealing an unending run of fabric that made up a gigantic pair of men’s coveralls. “There’s got to be a mistake.”

One of the tallest of her new baymates grabbed her coveralls and took the lead with the garment. “No mistake, one size—44. That’s why they call ‘em zoot suits.” With her coveralls in tow, she did a high spirited shuffle across the room, then saluted and introduced herself, “Louise Parker.”

The wide-legged pants of the zoot suit was a fashion of musicians and the dance set in Harlem at the time. The trainees had become aces at finding the lighter side of the unpleasantries that were part of being a WASP trainee.

Louise wore a cotton dress that was dotted with tiny stars. Her wavy brown hair was pinned back on both sides and a short wisp of bangs lined her forehead. She looked to Liddy to be as old or older than her, which gave Liddy an instant sense of camaraderie with Louise Parker.

“Calli Listo, I mean Duncan. It’s Calli Duncan.” The young little gal held out her hand. Her heavily lashed brown eyes stared lovingly at the shiny ring on her finger. “I just got married.” Her dark brown hair was pulled back with a pink ribbon that was tied in a bow on top of her head. She looked to be only a child.

“And you’re here?” Bet questioned.

“My boyfriend Stephen, I mean husband Stephen has gone overseas, I want to fly…” Calli kicked in a Southern accent, “… and it was this or attend every event of the Atlanta social season with my dahlin’ of a mother-in-law.”

“You from Atlanta? I’m from Atlanta,” the third woman drawled with a genuine Southern spice.

“No, actually, Steven’s family is. Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…” Calli tried to make amends for the mimickery.

“Please, if I never see another woman smothered in cotton candy chiffon again in my whole entire life, it will be too soon.” She bowed to the room and introduced herself. “Joy Lynn Calbert—debutante fugitive and rebel pilot.”

Joy Lynn’s clothes were in piles on the bed like they had exploded out of her suitcase, and she towered like a goddess in the middle of the room. The Southern belle’s blonde hair curled in loops and rested on her shoulders. She had full pink lips and big blue eyes. The cap sleeves of her sheer blouse met a groove of her defined bicep. Her waist was wrapped with a wide belt around a skirt that fit short and tight.