Lady Flyer, page 24
Captain James S. Teague was a lower-level captain, but if Tunner trusted him, Nancy would too. She wasn’t about to get in the middle of whatever firestorm Cochran was going to stir up.
After hanging up with Tunner, she turned to Bob and filled him in on the conversation, although he’d ascertained most of it.
“Come to the office with me today so we can get Teague’s report firsthand,” Bob said.
“I’m planning on it.” She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. “I hope Cochran doesn’t blow this all apart.”
“She might squawk from her corner,” Bob said, “but General George’s proposal is very reasonable and logical.”
“That’s what I think too,” she said. “But will Cochran agree?”
Bob gave Nancy a half smile. “The Army can’t renege on the WAFS. It’s a done deal. We’ll focus on getting your squadron ready to ferry. Whatever happens in the Training Program will be Cochran’s responsibility.”
Nancy couldn’t agree more, but new concerns were now popping up. “We can’t hire everyone who goes through training—that’s never a 100 percent guarantee,” she said. “They’ll still have to meet all of ATC’s flight test and physical requirements.”
“Yes, and you’ll have to make that clear from the beginning.”
She grimaced. “I see more debates coming up.”
Bob grasped her hand and squeezed. “Like Secretary Stimson said, you’re one of the most important women associated with the Army right now. This program is making history, and we’ll just have to ride out all the bumps.”
Nancy slipped her other hand over Bob’s but couldn’t hide her sigh. “You’re right. We all want female pilots to be given this chance, so it’s imperative to keep our egos out of the way. Which might not be possible for some, but I’ll make every effort.” At least, she’d try, even if she collapsed into bed every night from sheer exhaustion of keeping a level head.
Bob leaned close and kissed her cheek. “Want coffee?”
“I love you.”
He grinned and rose from the table. As he busied himself about the kitchen, Nancy called Betty, needing her one-step-removed opinion.
“You have the support you need, Nancy. Focus on moving forward in your program,” Betty said in a raspy voice. It was still early for all of them. “Let Cochran storm about and blame whoever she wants for being left out of the original planning. It was noble of her to go to England, but it was also noble of you to stay and work out utilizing female pilots in our homeland. In the end, the war is our priority—and winning this war should be everyone’s priority. Not placating bruised egos.”
“Exactly,” Nancy said. “That’s what I needed to hear. You and Bob are like parrots.” She gratefully sipped at the coffee he’d set before her.
The next hours spent at Bob’s ATC office were filled with phone calls as Nancy fielded questions and fine-tuned the ferrying training syllabus. In the next week, she’d be moving to Wilmington and working with Colonel Baker to make candidate selections. There wasn’t any time to waste.
“Do you have a few minutes?” Tunner asked, walking into the office with Captain Teague.
Nancy looked up from where she’d commandeered one end of Bob’s desk.
“Come in,” Bob said immediately, then moved to shut the door behind them.
Tunner and Teague took two available seats. “Captain Teague has brought a report of the meeting with General Arnold, Miss Cochran, and other representatives of Air Staff and CAA.”
Teague gave a brief smile of acknowledgment. He was a thin-faced, sharp-eyed man with a mellow voice. “The good news is that there are now two female pilot groups: the WAFS Ferrying Program, headed up by Mrs. Love, and a pilots training program, headed up by Jacqueline Cochran, which will be called the Women’s Flying Training Detachment, or the WFTD. The Training Program will be set up at the Houston Municipal Airport.”
Nancy wasn’t surprised, and frankly, she felt relieved that Cochran had accepted General George’s suggestion.
“But . . .” Teague hesitated. “Cochran looked clearly agitated about the Ferrying Program being organized in her absence. I had the feeling she wants to be over all women pilots in the United States. She didn’t say it outright, but Cochran made it no secret that she sees herself as fully qualified to do so.”
Nancy exhaled, holding back her comments. She’d save them for later, for Bob.
“In addition, I was asked to pass on the message that Mrs. Love’s program would not give flight checks to women who Miss Cochran has already passed off.”
Nancy stiffened. She couldn’t keep silent any longer. “Unless Miss Cochran is at Wilmington and part of the daily training, she won’t know exactly what we’re looking for or requiring. Our testing needs to be hands-on, not blindly accepted because of a graduation certificate.”
“True, and I didn’t agree with the demand or make any promises on Mrs. Love’s behalf.” Teague glanced at Tunner, then at Nancy. “We’re putting the summary of the meeting in writing so that everyone will be on the same page.”
“Excellent,” Tunner cut in. “We’ll say something to the effect that graduates of WFTD will only be employed by the 2nd Ferrying Group if they pass the flight test and physical examination and not because they are graduates.”
Nancy breathed easier. Tunner had once again proven to be her full supporter.
“And surely, as more women become trained and qualified, more squadrons will be organized,” Bob offered. “Nancy’s leadership will be a natural fit for the expansion.”
“We’ve considered that as well and agree,” Tunner said. “We all need to keep our noses clean and focus on the purpose of the program of utilizing female pilots to free up the male pilots for combat missions.”
It was a heavy thing to consider—women pilots being trained to ferry so men could risk their lives overseas.
Over the next few days, Nancy was caught up in packing and moving to Wilmington. She wasn’t excited about leaving Bob, but everything else was going better than she could have planned.
“They’ve just pulled up,” Bob said, coming into their bedroom one evening.
Nancy set down a folded blouse. Her parents had insisted on traveling in for an overnight visit before she embarked on her new adventure. Hurrying out of the room, she reached the front door and opened it. Her parents were coming up the steps. “Mother! Daddy!” She stepped forward into the early crispness of the September afternoon and hugged both of her parents.
Each time she saw them, her heart tugged because they’d aged a little more. She supposed she was aging, too, but time existed in a whirlwind for her. Seeing her parents brought everything to a standstill.
“Come in,” she said, motioning them inside. “Dinner should be out of the oven soon.”
Bob stepped onto the porch and took the two bags her father held.
“Smells wonderful,” her mother said, although Nancy knew she wouldn’t hold back her opinion of the actual dinner once it was served. But Nancy didn’t mind. It was her mother’s way of speaking whatever was on her mind. Which meant the subject of children would be brought up again.
The war had been Nancy’s most recent excuse. Well, she didn’t need an excuse because lately, she wondered if there was something wrong with her inner workings. She’d never tried to prevent babies, so why hadn’t she become pregnant? She’d come to the conclusion that she needed to see a doctor who specialized in women’s health, but she was almost afraid of the answer. What if she were told she was barren? Would it be better to know or better to hope she wasn’t?
“This is cozy,” her father said, his voice surprisingly loud in the small space.
She’d almost forgotten how quiet things were with only her and Bob in the apartment. She gave her parents a quick tour, and when they paused at the bedroom door where evidence of packing spread across the bed, her mother said, “Must you really leave your husband for this job?”
“It’s a short flight away,” Nancy said, not surprised by this question either. “We only see each other at night most of the time anyway.”
“Because of that Baltimore job,” her mother said none too cheerfully.
“Yes, but that’s over now, although I’ll still be working with Colonel Baker in Wilmington.”
“It’s a fine thing you’re doing, Nance,” her father cut in. “You’ve put your heart and soul into this, and it’s finally coming to fruition.”
Her mother gave a tight smile, then headed down the hallway, saying that she’d check the oven.
“Don’t mind her,” Father said quietly. “She’s worried about you flying the larger bomber planes.”
“Oh, that’s a ways off.” But Nancy was smiling, and her dad returned it. “Mother will have to get used to it.”
“She’s proud of you, though, but she’s worried, too, if that makes sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. I know she wants grandchildren. Win the war, stay safe, have babies . . . It’s all rather straightforward.”
Her father chuckled and set an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him as they walked together to the kitchen, where Bob had pulled out the chicken casserole from the oven, and Mother was filling up glasses with lemonade, which Nancy had saved some rationed sugar for. Nancy suspected more food items would soon be rationed.
The dinner conversation was as Nancy had expected. Talk of the war and the Battle of Stalingrad that had begun in August, with Nazi Germany trying to gain control of the city of Stalingrad from the Soviet Union. Then, surprisingly, Father pulled out the day’s copy of the Washington Daily News. “I snatched this on our last stop, and I was surprised at Miss Cochran’s comments.”
Nancy took the paper from him and read Cochran’s printed comments aloud, “Yes, I’ve been called back by General Arnold to be head of the women’s air corps in this country. Our goal is 1,500. I’ve had such success with my girls in England that I know this will work.”
Nancy stared at the words, rereading them silently. She felt everyone around the table watching her, waiting for her reply. Finally, she looked up. “Well, the sky in Jackie Cochran’s world is certainly a different color than mine.”
“That’s right.” The lines about Bob’s eyes had tightened. “Who wants dessert?” he asked with false cheerfulness.
“I do,” Nancy said immediately. A cold chocolate pudding would be just the thing right now. She rose from the table and helped Bob serve. Irritation snaked through her, but mostly, she felt tired. Tired of the press following the story so closely. Tired of hearing things about Jackie Cochran second- or thirdhand—especially when she sensed some personal digs at herself. Nancy knew that wasn’t the case, but her emotions jumbled whenever that woman was brought up.
She had to keep in mind what Bob and Betty had told her—there was room for both programs—and they should be interconnected. But it seemed Nancy had made all the concessions, staying quiet and conciliatory, whereas Cochran made brazen, public statements and actively alienated those she should be keeping as her closest allies.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I didn’t get back to New Castle AAB until [September] tenth. I took the train down because the weather was lousy in the morning. But it cleared in time for me to get my check flight with Lt. Joe Tracy in a Fairchild trainer. Lieutenant Joe was a civilian pilot before they let him into the ATC, so his flight test didn’t have any surprises. We were out about fifty minutes. Then after a bull session with Nancy Love, I caught the train for home.
“I guess I’m going to join the WAFS. Bud thinks it’s very worthwhile trying out, and so do I. We have to sign up for three month stretches and duty begins on September 21.”
—Betty Gillies’s Diary
September–October 1942—Wilmington, Delaware
It was a brisk fall day as Nancy walked with Colonel Baker toward the sturdy BOQ 14 barracks in order to inspect them for the arriving women pilots. Twenty-seven women had been chosen and approved out of the telegrams Nancy had originally sent out.
The BOQ 14 sat in the center of the base and next to the officers’ club. There were forty-four rooms, plenty in number to house the incoming WAFS. Nancy had already reserved a second-floor room for herself. She figured it was first come, first served.
The day that Betty’s train arrived, Nancy could hardly contain her excitement. Betty was coming to inspect things before fully committing. Nancy would give her the grand tour and then hope for the best, whatever that might be.
Normally, Betty would have flown her Grumman Widgeon twin-engine airplane, but the weather had been stormy. As the train arrived in a bluster of black smoke from the diesel-electric engine, Nancy’s pulse sped up in anticipation of seeing her friend again. She craned her neck to spot her familiar face. When a woman in a smart navy dress suit and matching beret stepped off the train, Nancy waved and hurried toward Betty.
“You made it,” Nancy said, hugging her friend. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
Betty released her, grinning. “I can’t either. Now, let’s check out New Castle. Bud is eagerly waiting for a report.”
The women linked arms, and Nancy led her to the car. “We’ll tour the living quarters, then you can say hello to Colonel Baker. Later, Lieutenant Joe Tracy will give you a check flight if the weather clears up.” She paused. “Is Bud good with all of this?”
Betty gave a soft laugh, peeling off her gloves once they settled in the car. “He practically pushed me out the door. He told me this is what I’ve been preparing for, and my mother-in-law even chimed in.”
Nancy arched her brows before starting the engine. “Quite the formidable front.”
Betty only smiled. “This feels good, Nancy. Really good.”
Nancy squeezed her arm. “I’m glad. And I’m so happy you’re here. You don’t have to stay long in the program, you know. Just the first ninety days until we get things off the ground.”
Once they reached the base, Nancy drove to the two-story barracks. “This is BOQ 14, and up until now, men were housed here. We had to make some adjustments for women to come in, such as putting up blinds over the windows.”
Betty leaned forward to peer out the car window. “Interesting.”
“We also added a few wooden planks over the muddy ditch so we wouldn’t have to trudge through the mire when coming and going.”
“I suppose the men hopped over the ditch?”
Nancy shrugged. “Who knows?” She parked the car, and she and Betty climbed out, picking their way around recent rain puddles while carrying luggage. The sky was beginning to clear now, and Nancy hoped that meant Betty would be able to do her flight check.
Inside, they walked past the square rooms, each containing a dresser, a cot, and an iron chair.
“No doors?”
“I guess that would be too presumptuous of us to expect?” Nancy motioned to a pipe held up by a pair of two-by-four planks. “This is your hanging closet.”
“This is quite . . . primitive.” Betty turned to face Nancy with a smile. “There really is no place like home.”
“Right, but I’ve been staying at the guesthouse called Kent Manor—so this isn’t as much a shock for me as it might be for you.”
“Where’s your room?”
“Second floor—quieter up there.”
“Show me the way,” Betty said. They headed up the stairs, lugging the bags, then she stopped at a room in the northwest corner. She walked into the small space. “I’ll take this one. A little drafty, but it will do.”
“If you’re sure?”
“I’m sure. It will be an adventure.” Betty spun slowly, hands on hips. “But I think it will be a lot of fun too.”
Nancy could only hope so. Hearing the cheer and positivity in her friend’s voice was gratifying.
“How are the numbers coming along?” Betty asked, setting one of her bags on the bed.
“Ah, it’s a bit tricky.” Nancy helped with the second bag. “We’re getting responses, of course, but some of the women are tied up in contracts of flight instructing through WTS.” The War Training Service Program had replaced the original CPT, and some of the women instructors would be a good fit for Nancy’s WAFS. If not, they could join Cochran in Texas for training when it started up in November.
“How many will be in the first group?” She unzipped one of the bags and pulled out a framed picture of her little family.
Nancy eyed the photo—so timeless, especially now that little Barbara was gone. “Nine in the first group if you say yes.”
Betty set the photo on the small table by the bed. “I’m saying yes.” She turned to face Nancy, but instead of the expected sorrow Nancy guessed would be in Betty’s eyes, they twinkled. “As long as I pass the flight test.”
Nancy laughed, relief spiking through her. “Let’s get it over with, then. No more dillydallying.”
As they walked to the office to meet Baker and book the flight test, Betty asked, “Did Cornelia Fort agree to come?”
“Yes,” Nancy said. “She shared a few things about her experience at Pearl Harbor, but I can see that it’s still hard for her to talk about.”
Betty went quiet for a moment. “I’m impressed she still wants to fly.”
“Oh, she wants to fly more than ever,” Nancy said. “She’s very determined to make this program a success too.” Cornelia had been the first woman in Tennessee to earn her instructor’s license. She’d worked in Colorado, then had taken a job offer in Hawaii. She was flying as an instructor in Hawaii the morning of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. She’d narrowly escaped an air collision with one of the Japanese bombers and had had to make a forced landing. She again escaped being shot at on the ground in a strafing attack.
“Good for her,” Betty said. “She’s a tough lady. I guess none of us get through life unscathed.”
After hanging up with Tunner, she turned to Bob and filled him in on the conversation, although he’d ascertained most of it.
“Come to the office with me today so we can get Teague’s report firsthand,” Bob said.
“I’m planning on it.” She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. “I hope Cochran doesn’t blow this all apart.”
“She might squawk from her corner,” Bob said, “but General George’s proposal is very reasonable and logical.”
“That’s what I think too,” she said. “But will Cochran agree?”
Bob gave Nancy a half smile. “The Army can’t renege on the WAFS. It’s a done deal. We’ll focus on getting your squadron ready to ferry. Whatever happens in the Training Program will be Cochran’s responsibility.”
Nancy couldn’t agree more, but new concerns were now popping up. “We can’t hire everyone who goes through training—that’s never a 100 percent guarantee,” she said. “They’ll still have to meet all of ATC’s flight test and physical requirements.”
“Yes, and you’ll have to make that clear from the beginning.”
She grimaced. “I see more debates coming up.”
Bob grasped her hand and squeezed. “Like Secretary Stimson said, you’re one of the most important women associated with the Army right now. This program is making history, and we’ll just have to ride out all the bumps.”
Nancy slipped her other hand over Bob’s but couldn’t hide her sigh. “You’re right. We all want female pilots to be given this chance, so it’s imperative to keep our egos out of the way. Which might not be possible for some, but I’ll make every effort.” At least, she’d try, even if she collapsed into bed every night from sheer exhaustion of keeping a level head.
Bob leaned close and kissed her cheek. “Want coffee?”
“I love you.”
He grinned and rose from the table. As he busied himself about the kitchen, Nancy called Betty, needing her one-step-removed opinion.
“You have the support you need, Nancy. Focus on moving forward in your program,” Betty said in a raspy voice. It was still early for all of them. “Let Cochran storm about and blame whoever she wants for being left out of the original planning. It was noble of her to go to England, but it was also noble of you to stay and work out utilizing female pilots in our homeland. In the end, the war is our priority—and winning this war should be everyone’s priority. Not placating bruised egos.”
“Exactly,” Nancy said. “That’s what I needed to hear. You and Bob are like parrots.” She gratefully sipped at the coffee he’d set before her.
The next hours spent at Bob’s ATC office were filled with phone calls as Nancy fielded questions and fine-tuned the ferrying training syllabus. In the next week, she’d be moving to Wilmington and working with Colonel Baker to make candidate selections. There wasn’t any time to waste.
“Do you have a few minutes?” Tunner asked, walking into the office with Captain Teague.
Nancy looked up from where she’d commandeered one end of Bob’s desk.
“Come in,” Bob said immediately, then moved to shut the door behind them.
Tunner and Teague took two available seats. “Captain Teague has brought a report of the meeting with General Arnold, Miss Cochran, and other representatives of Air Staff and CAA.”
Teague gave a brief smile of acknowledgment. He was a thin-faced, sharp-eyed man with a mellow voice. “The good news is that there are now two female pilot groups: the WAFS Ferrying Program, headed up by Mrs. Love, and a pilots training program, headed up by Jacqueline Cochran, which will be called the Women’s Flying Training Detachment, or the WFTD. The Training Program will be set up at the Houston Municipal Airport.”
Nancy wasn’t surprised, and frankly, she felt relieved that Cochran had accepted General George’s suggestion.
“But . . .” Teague hesitated. “Cochran looked clearly agitated about the Ferrying Program being organized in her absence. I had the feeling she wants to be over all women pilots in the United States. She didn’t say it outright, but Cochran made it no secret that she sees herself as fully qualified to do so.”
Nancy exhaled, holding back her comments. She’d save them for later, for Bob.
“In addition, I was asked to pass on the message that Mrs. Love’s program would not give flight checks to women who Miss Cochran has already passed off.”
Nancy stiffened. She couldn’t keep silent any longer. “Unless Miss Cochran is at Wilmington and part of the daily training, she won’t know exactly what we’re looking for or requiring. Our testing needs to be hands-on, not blindly accepted because of a graduation certificate.”
“True, and I didn’t agree with the demand or make any promises on Mrs. Love’s behalf.” Teague glanced at Tunner, then at Nancy. “We’re putting the summary of the meeting in writing so that everyone will be on the same page.”
“Excellent,” Tunner cut in. “We’ll say something to the effect that graduates of WFTD will only be employed by the 2nd Ferrying Group if they pass the flight test and physical examination and not because they are graduates.”
Nancy breathed easier. Tunner had once again proven to be her full supporter.
“And surely, as more women become trained and qualified, more squadrons will be organized,” Bob offered. “Nancy’s leadership will be a natural fit for the expansion.”
“We’ve considered that as well and agree,” Tunner said. “We all need to keep our noses clean and focus on the purpose of the program of utilizing female pilots to free up the male pilots for combat missions.”
It was a heavy thing to consider—women pilots being trained to ferry so men could risk their lives overseas.
Over the next few days, Nancy was caught up in packing and moving to Wilmington. She wasn’t excited about leaving Bob, but everything else was going better than she could have planned.
“They’ve just pulled up,” Bob said, coming into their bedroom one evening.
Nancy set down a folded blouse. Her parents had insisted on traveling in for an overnight visit before she embarked on her new adventure. Hurrying out of the room, she reached the front door and opened it. Her parents were coming up the steps. “Mother! Daddy!” She stepped forward into the early crispness of the September afternoon and hugged both of her parents.
Each time she saw them, her heart tugged because they’d aged a little more. She supposed she was aging, too, but time existed in a whirlwind for her. Seeing her parents brought everything to a standstill.
“Come in,” she said, motioning them inside. “Dinner should be out of the oven soon.”
Bob stepped onto the porch and took the two bags her father held.
“Smells wonderful,” her mother said, although Nancy knew she wouldn’t hold back her opinion of the actual dinner once it was served. But Nancy didn’t mind. It was her mother’s way of speaking whatever was on her mind. Which meant the subject of children would be brought up again.
The war had been Nancy’s most recent excuse. Well, she didn’t need an excuse because lately, she wondered if there was something wrong with her inner workings. She’d never tried to prevent babies, so why hadn’t she become pregnant? She’d come to the conclusion that she needed to see a doctor who specialized in women’s health, but she was almost afraid of the answer. What if she were told she was barren? Would it be better to know or better to hope she wasn’t?
“This is cozy,” her father said, his voice surprisingly loud in the small space.
She’d almost forgotten how quiet things were with only her and Bob in the apartment. She gave her parents a quick tour, and when they paused at the bedroom door where evidence of packing spread across the bed, her mother said, “Must you really leave your husband for this job?”
“It’s a short flight away,” Nancy said, not surprised by this question either. “We only see each other at night most of the time anyway.”
“Because of that Baltimore job,” her mother said none too cheerfully.
“Yes, but that’s over now, although I’ll still be working with Colonel Baker in Wilmington.”
“It’s a fine thing you’re doing, Nance,” her father cut in. “You’ve put your heart and soul into this, and it’s finally coming to fruition.”
Her mother gave a tight smile, then headed down the hallway, saying that she’d check the oven.
“Don’t mind her,” Father said quietly. “She’s worried about you flying the larger bomber planes.”
“Oh, that’s a ways off.” But Nancy was smiling, and her dad returned it. “Mother will have to get used to it.”
“She’s proud of you, though, but she’s worried, too, if that makes sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. I know she wants grandchildren. Win the war, stay safe, have babies . . . It’s all rather straightforward.”
Her father chuckled and set an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him as they walked together to the kitchen, where Bob had pulled out the chicken casserole from the oven, and Mother was filling up glasses with lemonade, which Nancy had saved some rationed sugar for. Nancy suspected more food items would soon be rationed.
The dinner conversation was as Nancy had expected. Talk of the war and the Battle of Stalingrad that had begun in August, with Nazi Germany trying to gain control of the city of Stalingrad from the Soviet Union. Then, surprisingly, Father pulled out the day’s copy of the Washington Daily News. “I snatched this on our last stop, and I was surprised at Miss Cochran’s comments.”
Nancy took the paper from him and read Cochran’s printed comments aloud, “Yes, I’ve been called back by General Arnold to be head of the women’s air corps in this country. Our goal is 1,500. I’ve had such success with my girls in England that I know this will work.”
Nancy stared at the words, rereading them silently. She felt everyone around the table watching her, waiting for her reply. Finally, she looked up. “Well, the sky in Jackie Cochran’s world is certainly a different color than mine.”
“That’s right.” The lines about Bob’s eyes had tightened. “Who wants dessert?” he asked with false cheerfulness.
“I do,” Nancy said immediately. A cold chocolate pudding would be just the thing right now. She rose from the table and helped Bob serve. Irritation snaked through her, but mostly, she felt tired. Tired of the press following the story so closely. Tired of hearing things about Jackie Cochran second- or thirdhand—especially when she sensed some personal digs at herself. Nancy knew that wasn’t the case, but her emotions jumbled whenever that woman was brought up.
She had to keep in mind what Bob and Betty had told her—there was room for both programs—and they should be interconnected. But it seemed Nancy had made all the concessions, staying quiet and conciliatory, whereas Cochran made brazen, public statements and actively alienated those she should be keeping as her closest allies.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I didn’t get back to New Castle AAB until [September] tenth. I took the train down because the weather was lousy in the morning. But it cleared in time for me to get my check flight with Lt. Joe Tracy in a Fairchild trainer. Lieutenant Joe was a civilian pilot before they let him into the ATC, so his flight test didn’t have any surprises. We were out about fifty minutes. Then after a bull session with Nancy Love, I caught the train for home.
“I guess I’m going to join the WAFS. Bud thinks it’s very worthwhile trying out, and so do I. We have to sign up for three month stretches and duty begins on September 21.”
—Betty Gillies’s Diary
September–October 1942—Wilmington, Delaware
It was a brisk fall day as Nancy walked with Colonel Baker toward the sturdy BOQ 14 barracks in order to inspect them for the arriving women pilots. Twenty-seven women had been chosen and approved out of the telegrams Nancy had originally sent out.
The BOQ 14 sat in the center of the base and next to the officers’ club. There were forty-four rooms, plenty in number to house the incoming WAFS. Nancy had already reserved a second-floor room for herself. She figured it was first come, first served.
The day that Betty’s train arrived, Nancy could hardly contain her excitement. Betty was coming to inspect things before fully committing. Nancy would give her the grand tour and then hope for the best, whatever that might be.
Normally, Betty would have flown her Grumman Widgeon twin-engine airplane, but the weather had been stormy. As the train arrived in a bluster of black smoke from the diesel-electric engine, Nancy’s pulse sped up in anticipation of seeing her friend again. She craned her neck to spot her familiar face. When a woman in a smart navy dress suit and matching beret stepped off the train, Nancy waved and hurried toward Betty.
“You made it,” Nancy said, hugging her friend. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
Betty released her, grinning. “I can’t either. Now, let’s check out New Castle. Bud is eagerly waiting for a report.”
The women linked arms, and Nancy led her to the car. “We’ll tour the living quarters, then you can say hello to Colonel Baker. Later, Lieutenant Joe Tracy will give you a check flight if the weather clears up.” She paused. “Is Bud good with all of this?”
Betty gave a soft laugh, peeling off her gloves once they settled in the car. “He practically pushed me out the door. He told me this is what I’ve been preparing for, and my mother-in-law even chimed in.”
Nancy arched her brows before starting the engine. “Quite the formidable front.”
Betty only smiled. “This feels good, Nancy. Really good.”
Nancy squeezed her arm. “I’m glad. And I’m so happy you’re here. You don’t have to stay long in the program, you know. Just the first ninety days until we get things off the ground.”
Once they reached the base, Nancy drove to the two-story barracks. “This is BOQ 14, and up until now, men were housed here. We had to make some adjustments for women to come in, such as putting up blinds over the windows.”
Betty leaned forward to peer out the car window. “Interesting.”
“We also added a few wooden planks over the muddy ditch so we wouldn’t have to trudge through the mire when coming and going.”
“I suppose the men hopped over the ditch?”
Nancy shrugged. “Who knows?” She parked the car, and she and Betty climbed out, picking their way around recent rain puddles while carrying luggage. The sky was beginning to clear now, and Nancy hoped that meant Betty would be able to do her flight check.
Inside, they walked past the square rooms, each containing a dresser, a cot, and an iron chair.
“No doors?”
“I guess that would be too presumptuous of us to expect?” Nancy motioned to a pipe held up by a pair of two-by-four planks. “This is your hanging closet.”
“This is quite . . . primitive.” Betty turned to face Nancy with a smile. “There really is no place like home.”
“Right, but I’ve been staying at the guesthouse called Kent Manor—so this isn’t as much a shock for me as it might be for you.”
“Where’s your room?”
“Second floor—quieter up there.”
“Show me the way,” Betty said. They headed up the stairs, lugging the bags, then she stopped at a room in the northwest corner. She walked into the small space. “I’ll take this one. A little drafty, but it will do.”
“If you’re sure?”
“I’m sure. It will be an adventure.” Betty spun slowly, hands on hips. “But I think it will be a lot of fun too.”
Nancy could only hope so. Hearing the cheer and positivity in her friend’s voice was gratifying.
“How are the numbers coming along?” Betty asked, setting one of her bags on the bed.
“Ah, it’s a bit tricky.” Nancy helped with the second bag. “We’re getting responses, of course, but some of the women are tied up in contracts of flight instructing through WTS.” The War Training Service Program had replaced the original CPT, and some of the women instructors would be a good fit for Nancy’s WAFS. If not, they could join Cochran in Texas for training when it started up in November.
“How many will be in the first group?” She unzipped one of the bags and pulled out a framed picture of her little family.
Nancy eyed the photo—so timeless, especially now that little Barbara was gone. “Nine in the first group if you say yes.”
Betty set the photo on the small table by the bed. “I’m saying yes.” She turned to face Nancy, but instead of the expected sorrow Nancy guessed would be in Betty’s eyes, they twinkled. “As long as I pass the flight test.”
Nancy laughed, relief spiking through her. “Let’s get it over with, then. No more dillydallying.”
As they walked to the office to meet Baker and book the flight test, Betty asked, “Did Cornelia Fort agree to come?”
“Yes,” Nancy said. “She shared a few things about her experience at Pearl Harbor, but I can see that it’s still hard for her to talk about.”
Betty went quiet for a moment. “I’m impressed she still wants to fly.”
“Oh, she wants to fly more than ever,” Nancy said. “She’s very determined to make this program a success too.” Cornelia had been the first woman in Tennessee to earn her instructor’s license. She’d worked in Colorado, then had taken a job offer in Hawaii. She was flying as an instructor in Hawaii the morning of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. She’d narrowly escaped an air collision with one of the Japanese bombers and had had to make a forced landing. She again escaped being shot at on the ground in a strafing attack.
“Good for her,” Betty said. “She’s a tough lady. I guess none of us get through life unscathed.”
