Cynthia Cartier - Wings

“Yeah, I don’t eat much before I fly. When I go up, so does the food, if you know what I mean.”

Liddy smiled. “You’re gonna be skipping a lot of meals, little Betsy.”

“I’ll make up for it.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Military life wasn’t something most little girls had laid in bed dreaming about during the first half of the twentieth century. It was as far from their thinking as building a barn or fighting a duel. Their brother’s playtime was charging the hill, and taking the enemy. Girls, on the other hand, had their dolls, dress-up and notions of being mommies and wives. But when flying got hold of a woman, her world opened up long before the lot of her generation. It opened up in a way that let all kinds of possibilities line up on the doorstep of her mind.

Liddy’s world had always been open, so she was not hemmed in by convention. Still, the restraints and rigors of the Army way were not familiar to the free wander of her spirit. Down the line, looking military was a stretch for the new class. They gave it their all though. Assembled in ranks before the base command, their backs were straight and their knees were tight; they were to be military pilots.

Liddy’s pulse raced when she saw that Major Reid Trent was among the officers. He wasn’t the same man she remembered from the train, but still her mind raced with her pulse. What did this mean? Even if he had walked away from her because of his position at Avenger, the way he walked away still burned her. Or was it that she wasn’t accustomed to being walked away from at all? She thought she knew the ins and outs of herself and how to keep in check, but the yearning that returned had a way of its own. Trent stood with Colonel Lawrence Wate, army officers, a collection of enlisted pilots and civilian flying instructors, a few of whom were women.

Colonel Wate was a big man. The plumpness behind his rosy cheeks and in his form told of the celebration with which he lived life. His smile was wide and exuded anything but military formality. He adored the trainees and was one of the WASP program’s biggest supporters. He greeted the women with words of drill and discipline, but the tone was warm and enthusiastic.

“Attention trainees. I’m Colonel Lawrence Wate. This program has proven to be very successful and I trust this class will continue to display the high standards of past and present trainees. To my right are Major Reid Trent and Captain Ellis Charles. Both have completed three aerial combat tours overseas. Major Trent will be your director of training and in charge of all flight instruction. Captain Ellis Charles will be your ground school supervisor. Major Trent will now call out your first checkride instructions. Major.”

The Major seemed to notice no one. The light was gone from his eyes and his face had a firmness that Liddy didn’t recognize, and it held nothing that appealed to her. Yet something had left her and was floating where she couldn’t get control of it. The sound of his voice, however, she did recognize, and she fought the urge to close her eyes and see the face from the train as she listened. He spoke in lists, the way military people do, and it was odd to hear the cadence and the voice together.

“This is a five and half month program. Although you are not enlisted Army Air Force, you will be flying for the United States Military. Therefore it is expected that you will learn, in that time, to fly the Army way…”

Bet whispered to Liddy, “What does that mean?”

Liddy shushed Bet and gave her a stern look.

“…The checkride you are about to take with your civilian instructor will determine if you will even be allowed to begin that training. If you do continue after today, you will follow a specific schedule. Before your solo you will log twenty-five hours in Primary Trainers with civilian instructors. Each phase of training will be followed by a checkride with an Army pilot. Grades of S and U will be given. After two Us you will fly an elimination ride and then stand a hearing before the board…”

The trainees’ eyes widened.

“…Pink slips will be issued for bad rides in your training phases and conduct or action inconsistent with orders and regulations of the Army Air Force. Three pink slips and you’re out. During training and after graduation you will fly only in the continental United States. Captain Charles will now read the check roster.”

The Captain stepped up for his part. “I will call an instructor’s name and then a list of trainees who are to follow him or her to the flight line. This will be your flight group for phase one, so listen up and fall in. Mr. Strom.”

Civilian instructor Rick Strom, a little rough around the edges, stepped up.

Captain Charles continued, “Adams, Alcorn, Gackle, Roden, Landry.”

The women left the ranks and followed Strom to the benches that lined the exterior of the primary hanger. The instructors were as varied as a crowd on a big city sidewalk. Some had the wild eye of a back woods hermit, while others looked like they had just stepped out from behind the pulpit. Charles called instructors and then trainees as the procession continued in a steady stream of nerves.

A group of new instructors had arrived only the night before and Lewis Gant was among them. When Captain Charles called his name, Gant sauntered up with a chute pack slung over his shoulder that seemed half his size. He stepped forward and stood with an arch that made his slight frame look as though it might snap.

Charles continued, “Bailey, Fisher, Hall, Parker, Vanell.”

The five ladies clipped behind Gant who led them to one of the benches that bordered the hangars. When Gant hollered at the women to “Sit” they were startled and sensed a discord in the making.

“Welcome, ladies. I’m just thrilled to have the opportunity to be your instructor. None of you should be here and I will do everything in my power to bring that little fact to light. Women are inadequate pilots, and this country certainly does not need you to fly their airplanes. You are not, or will you ever be, part of the true military forces of the United States.”

Louise murmured to Liddy out of the side of her mouth, “Like he is?”

“Excuse me trainee, did you have something to say?”

“No, sir,” said Louise.

Liddy and Louise dug in their heels, but the other gals were slowly sinking into the bench. Gant turned and took a few steps toward the air strip and then snapped back, “Vanell, get your ass up. Let’s go!”

Carla Vanell followed the man like a scared kitten. She looked back over her shoulder, and her frightened eyes called for backup. The women watched helplessly. Their futures were beginning to look uncertain, and so they didn’t bother getting acquainted as it might jinx their ride. Quietly they watched Carla go up. When it was over, she followed Gant back from the flight line and sat on the bench with tears streaming down her face. While Gant was still standing there, the others resisted the temptation to question or even look in her direction.

“Bailey, let’s go.”

Liddy shot to her feet. “I’ll go next.”

Gant set his face in front of Liddy’s and let his words out slow, “You will go, when I say you’ll go. Sit—your—ass—down!”

Liddy burned a glare at Gant as she slowly lowered herself to the bench. Bet looked desperately at Liddy.

“Grease it, girl,” Liddy ordered.

After Bet followed Gant to the plane, Carla began to recount the bashing the instructor had dealt out. But she couldn’t get herself to repeat all the things he had said to her, and she bit down on her cheeks to hold back more tears.

Bet crawled the plane to the end of the runway. From the bench, the women watched the ship roll for about twenty feet and stop, then fifty feet and stop, before starting out again. Liddy knew Bet should have been rolling faster when she came down the back end to take off. As she swayed down the mat, Bet jumped back and forth between the throttle and keeping two hands on the stick. The plane eventually lifted and flew an apprehensive pattern.

The gosport was a tube that was attached to the trainee’s helmet in the front cockpit and ran to the rear cockpit, where it was capped with a funnel. The instructor spoke, the trainee listened. This was the line of communication in the trainers for phase one. Two-way radios would come later in the BTs—Basic Trainers.

Gant made good use of the apparatus and was shouting his orders through the little tunnel with great magnification, “Keep it steady, dammit.” And behind that he dished out one curse after another as loud as his little man voice could project.

The profane echo made Bet’s ears throb, and she wanted to rip off the helmet. Her lips were red where she had bitten down, and her body ached from tensing to control her shaking.

“Why are you wasting my time, Bailey? You ever been in a plane? Get this goddamn plane down. I’m done with you.” Bet winced with each attack and couldn’t hear her own thoughts over the tirade.

The landing was a bit of a rock and roll, and Gant was still hollering as he got out of the cockpit. His rant continued, while he cornered Bet at the wing, and the scene was garnering the attention of others on the line. When he was done with that, Gant came stomping back to the bench. Paces behind, Bet’s tear-soaked face pinched her eyes to swollen slits. Liddy was ready to jump the monster when Louise reached over and gave her thigh a squeeze.

“Fisher.” Ruby rose and followed Gant’s puffed-up stride to the runway.

Bet was inconsolable. She kept saying over and over, “My family was right, and now they’re going to know they were right.”