To the eyes of a WASP trainee, pink slips glowed like a red hot coal. Nothing could bring a hush and set off the inner alarm so quickly as a pink slip. From a distance of a hundred yards, a trainee could zero in on one and would immediately shoot up a prayer that it wasn’t headed in her direction. Liddy hadn’t told her friends that they had been spotted coming in late the night before, no need to worry them. They’d get the news when it came.

The regular training schedule was interrupted with firearms instruction, which was a day of dread for many of the class, for a few it was intrigue, and for even fewer it was old hat. While they listened to the shooting range instructor lay out the drill, the trainees examined a row of .45 caliber automatic pistols set out in a row on the ground.

“All right, trainees, listen up. Some of you will be assigned to ferry bases. And some of the planes you will deliver will be the most advanced expensive ships ever made. Some may even have top secret equipment on board. Firearms are standard issue for every ferry flight. Once you man a plane it will be your responsibility to protect it.”

The mere thought of this sent some snickers through the ranks. The instructor taught the women how to hold, load and fire the guns, and fielded questions like, “How do I get the bullet thingy to pop open?” and “How hard do I need to pull the trigger?”.

In groups, the trainees stepped up to the line, took a pistol, aimed and fired. Looking down the line, the grips on the weapons ranged from a gentle embrace to, ‘I’m gonna squeeze the life out of you’.

Joy Lynn stepped to the line, fired and hit dead center with a full round. “To my mama’s dismay, my daddy took me huntin’ and target shootin’. That’s what happens when you’re the oldest of five sisters and no brothers. What else can a Southern daddy do?”

Louise shot with accuracy and a sense of familiarity, but didn’t share why this was so. Liddy knew a rifle and a shotgun, but had never held a pistol, so her aim was unsteady but improved with each shot. Marina and Bet squeezed off the required rounds, with their eyes closed, and no more. Neither woman had their sights set on a ferry command, which was a good thing.

From the shooting range the women marched to the flight line, then to the mess for their noon meal and then back to the bays. There they hit the showers quickly in order to get to ground school on time and then off to supper. As the day came to a close, Liddy laid in her bunk puzzled that the pink slips, or worse, never came. The why of it bothered her more than the possibility of the impending discipline did, and she didn’t get much sleep that night.


Three days had passed and no pink slips or anything else. They were in the clear. But when Marina, Joy Lynn and Bet decided to spend the next Saturday at Lake Sweetwater, Liddy decided to play it safe and stay behind. Louise joined her and later they regretted the choice.

Their baymates made plans with some local boys, including Bet’s Farrell for the day. Afternoon rolled into evening, and the men decided things were going to go further than the girls intended. Farrell got pretty rough with Bet, and Joy Lynn lit into him. The two other men stepped in to take Joy Lynn out and Marina, bless her prissy little heart, tried to help. She took a square shot between one of the gent’s legs, taking him to his knees, but then caught a punch from a fist or elbow that was flying and was knocked unconscious. Joy Lynn swung one way and then the other until two men were down and bloody and the other had taken his leave. Never cross a Georgia peach.

Talk was the beating was bad enough to get Joy Lynn charged, but the men’s egos were too whooped to have admitted the incident. Whispers from those at the lake that night made their way around the base, and although Joy Lynn was still her same goofy self, she became a force that no one thought to challenge after that. Rena Naston even seemed to be warned, as she never had another snotty comment for any of the underclass again.


Decked out in crisp Santiago blue dress uniforms, the senior class clicked a march past the rows of planes and underclasswomen that were all neatly arranged at the edge of the ceremony area. Graduates filed into the rows of chairs and stood at attention until they were given the ‘at ease’ and sat down. Liddy’s class moved up as they watched the new senior class take their place at the head of the formation.

It felt to Liddy as though her day would never come, and she grew weary and anxious. She lay in bed that night thinking about Jack and Crik. She yearned to hear a voice from home, but any calls that were made had to be collect and Crik didn’t have a phone anyway. Liddy relied on letters to keep in touch. She had counted on Daniel to give her updates because Crik hadn’t been the best at writing. When Daniel enlisted, the line to home had been severed. She saw Doubt sitting across the room and was about to get up to make him leave when an alarm rang across the base.

Bet jumped up and staggered. “Up, up, I’m up.”

The women tried to orient themselves.

“That’s not rev,” Liddy told Bet.

“It’s the fire bell,” said Louise.

“Fire?” Marina screamed and scrambled to her feet.

“No, the graduates,” said Liddy. “They set the fire bell off.”

Each graduating class was allowed an extra measure of rowdy, and this class was taking every inch.

“Let’s go,” Joy Lynn flipped the covers off and ran out the door. Marina followed.

Shadowy silhouettes flashed past the window as the bays emptied. Barefoot and in their bed clothes, the women rushed out to the concrete porch to catch the celebration.

Bet stopped at the doorway and looked back. “Aren’t you girls coming?”

“I’ll wait for your stories. They’ll be better than the real thing anyway.” Louise rolled over and pulled her blankets over her head.

“I might come out,” said Liddy. She sat up in bed for a few minutes and then decided she didn’t want to be alone with Doubt. She kicked off her bedding and walked outside to join the party. By the time she was on the porch, Joy Lynn, Marina and Bet were lost in the crowd, and Liddy leaned up against a post and watched for a while. She saw Jenna Law at the end of the bays, and took a deep breath before she walked over to her and held out her hand.

“Congratulations, Jenna.”

“Thanks, Hall.” Jenna shook Liddy’s hand. “Maybe, now that I’m leaving, we can get off on the right foot.” She smiled.

“Okay, let’s do that,” Liddy agreed.

“Right foot or not, you probably don’t want to hear a pep talk from me, but these gals look up to you, Liddy. Even the girls in the new senior class think you’re the one to watch. You know, we all know that ten successes are nothing against one failure in this program. You want the WASP to go military just as much as I do.”

“Why do you care if we get commissioned? I heard you’re getting married.”

“Which means I don’t fly?”

“Some men wouldn’t like having an Army wife.”

“Wouldn’t be too smart to marry one of those, now would it? Ellis got leave, so before I report to Palm Springs, we’re going home to San Diego and getting married. Then I’m off to pursuit training.”

“Ellis?” Liddy repeated, confused.

“Captain Charles, my fiancé. I know the word got out.”

“Your fiancé? Captain Charles?” Liddy repeated the words and replayed the last few months in her head.

“I know, no fraternizing with the base staff, but we’ve known each other since we were kids. Our parents were friends. We started dating long before I joined the program and before he was assigned here. Kinda odd how it all worked out. The base command understood the situation. But we still had to keep it professional.”

“Wow! Congratulations, Jenna. Really, that’s great, really great!”

“Thanks.” Jenna searched Liddy. “Who did you think I was marrying, Hall?”

Liddy changed the subject. “I heard you got pursuits—congratulations for that too.”

Jenna stared at Liddy for a moment but let it go. “You’ll have them too, you know that.”

Liddy heard Doubt whisper, If you don’t get kicked out.

“Liddy, do you know how many people get the opportunity to fly for their country? And how few of those will fly fighter planes? And how few of those will be women?” The porch light shone on the wetness that washed over Jenna’s eyes. “We’re the beginning of something big.”

“Do you have your wings on you, Jenna?”

Jenna reached in her pocket and opened her fist. Shiny silver wings sparkled in her palm.

“So, is it true, are you a Hollywood stunt flyer?”

“No, haven’t you heard? I’m a Women’s Airforce Service Pilot.”


Each graduation was followed by a few days of restlessness. The trainees yearned for their own day of recognition and their release from the confines of Cochran’s Convent. But the distraction was soon replaced by the reality of their journey. As Liddy’s class moved through each phase of training, more trainees washed-out and were killed on the base and WASPs were killed out on their commands. The most recent had been a senior trainee and one of the civilian instructors, who went down five miles north of the primary field. A rancher saw the flames when the plane was still in the air. It was determined that a fuel line broke into the carburetor and lit up the engine like a blow torch. They didn’t have a chance.

The glamour had long ago faded but the commitment had only deepened. The women came to accept the risks of flying for the military. There were a few of the girls that let it weaken them and would eventually washout or leave on their own—most, however, learned to adapt to the Army way. Defeat was not an option. Future generations of women would benefit from or pay for what they did, and they knew it.