Cynthia Cartier - Wings

When she gathered a big scoop of courage and filled in Major Trent and Hall, she decided the next stop was where she would post it. When the train rolled to the platform, she left the car and dropped it in the mail slot like it was on fire.

Back on the train, she thought more about the letter she would like to have written and got out a pen and wrote five pages. But that letter stayed tucked into her pocket and it did not get mailed.

Crik and Celia stood with Liddy by Jack’s graveside on a crusty layer of frost. She was in full uniform and knew how pleased Jack would have been at the sight of her. Daniel had managed leave, but he wouldn’t be home until the afternoon train.

Crik squeezed Liddy’s hand. “We’ll wait for you in the truck.”

“No—you go ahead. I’d like to walk back.” Liddy waited till she was alone. “Hi, Daddy.” She tugged at the hem of her jacket. “Fits pretty good, doesn’t it?” She cleared her eyes with her sleeve. “Remember when Mama died and you said I should talk to her whenever I felt like it. I know I was only twelve, but I’m gonna go ahead and keep talking, but to both of you now, Okay?”

The pain was so great. Liddy crouched down and ran her fingers in the grooves of Jack’s name on the headstone—JAQUE “JACK’ NATHAN HALL, and ‘BELOVED HUSBAND, FATHER, FRIEND AND PIONEER OF THE SKY, was etched below.

The marble that held Edda’s name was dusty and had no sparkle, but Jack’s was polished and new. A marble headstone was a luxury that Jack didn’t question when he buried his wife, and Liddy and Crik had decided Jack’s would be a match.

Liddy thought of the two of them side by side in this place and how, as a child, she had worried about her mother being alone when she died, while Jack and she still had each other. Now it was she who was alone, but Liddy was happy that they were together. This was how Edda had felt so many years before—Liddy was sure of that.

She told her parents all about graduation, her command to ferry pursuits and about the other WASPs. She told of Joy Lynn—the big tough beauty queen, dear proper Marina, steady Louise and sweet Bet. She didn’t leave out her fifth roommate, and she saw her mother screw a silly face when she said that Calli claimed she would be naming her baby Betsy Joy Marina Liddy Louise Duncan.

She laughed out loud when she realized she was leaving a pause here and there for Jack to interrupt her. Liddy’s mother had been a good listener, or at least appeared to be. Maybe it was that some people just don’t have the need to say a lot. Edda and Jack Hall would be a good match for eternity.

Liddy surprised herself when she hesitated telling her parents certain things. If they were alive, she would have kept from them anything that might make them worry, and she wouldn’t have told them about Major Reid Trent, not yet, maybe never.

But she decided to open up and let it all go. She told them how many women had died at Avenger, and about her ups and downs in training. And she told them everything she could think of about the Major and how she wished they could have met him.

Her fingers kept returning to the metal wings on her chest. They truly were Jack’s wings too. She wouldn’t have them if it weren’t for him.

“I’m still waiting to be militarized,” she said, “They keep saying it’s gonna happen any day, but I’m beginning to understand that doesn’t mean any day soon.” Liddy floated her fingers over the wings. “But I do have wings. Now we all have wings.”

It would be a week before Liddy had to report for pursuit training in Palm Springs, and she didn’t take for granted a minute of her time at home. She flew the old Jenny and scratched on Muck. Crik listened to every story that Liddy had collected the past few months, and she did her best to do justice to the delivery. She, Daniel and Celia ran around the county kicking up their heels and steering the conversation from talk of Daniel going back overseas. She drove over to Clayton Airfield to see Jerry, and he insisted on taking Liddy up for an unofficial checkride. Liddy’s flying had gained a precision that took every bump from the air. Jerry was impressed but only said, “Okay, Hall. I’m giving you an S this time, but work on that take-off. You don’t need to punch a hole through the floor of the pit ya’ know?”

Liddy received a letter from Major Reid Trent that had been sent the day she left the base. Crik had picked up the mail when he was in town. He handed Liddy the letter and watched her as she read the return address. Of course Crik didn’t ask about it, and Liddy was glad her uncle wasn’t a prier. She went into her trailer and sat in the corner on the bed. She studied the handwriting before she opened it and as she read the letter, her heartbeat quickened:

October 28, 1943

Dear Liddy,

I hope you had a safe trip and are enjoying your leave. I am truly sorry about your father’s death. He must have been quite a man to have raised you.

I realized I never actually told you congratulations on getting your wings, so, “Congratulations!” The Army is fortunate that you will be flying for them. I’m sorry that I said Avenger may not be the place for you. I regretted it the moment I said it and I didn’t mean it. You were right where you were supposed to be the last few months, I hope for more reasons than to become a WASP.

The base is quiet today, but the new class and replacement base command are arriving in numbers, so that isn’t going to last long. Captain Charles and I leave tomorrow morning to report to Long Beach for briefing, and then we will join our squadrons and board a carrier.

My tour will last until spring. I would like to see you when I get leave. I hope you will write to me and be safe.

Sincerely, Reid

When Liddy finished reading the letter for the third time, she tried not to dwell on what Reid would think when he read the empty note she had sent from the train; instead, she pulled out some stationary and immediately answered his letter:

November 5, 1943

Dear Reid,—Calling you that is going to take some getting used to.

I received your letter today. Thank you. I don’t know where you will be when you finally get this, but I hope you’re well. I’ll look forward to your leave in the spring. It will be nice not to worry that you might have a pink slip for me when I see you.

My father’s funeral was the day after I arrived home. He knew a lot of people but we were still surprised by the number of folks that came. He was a character, so it was only fitting that the crowd was pretty colorful. I wish you could have met him. He was a flyer. I hope to tell you all about him someday. If you think I’m a challenge, well, I couldn’t hold a candle to Jack Hall.

I leave for Palm Springs in three days. I’m looking forward to getting through the training so I can just fly. There’s so much I’d like to write and will in time. But for now I just want you to know how thankful I am that I was at Avenger and for more reasons than to become a WASP.

Take care of yourself and keep humming,

Liddy

Liddy couldn’t get to town fast enough to post the letter, and she floated for the rest of the week. Crik noticed and was happy for her. Of all the boys Liddy had dated, he had never seen one who made her smile like she was smiling now. Daniel noticed something too but he chalked it up to the fighter planes she was headed off to ride. Flying was the only thing that he had ever known to really wind Liddy up, so it was a natural assumption.

Holly Grove’s first snow of the season drifted in early and dusted the fall leaves, pulling them off the trees sooner than they had planned. It came the day before Liddy was to board a train to California, and it seemed a weighty sign.

At the pursuit training base in Palm Springs, Liddy studied alongside male Army Air Force cadets. When the training was finished, she would be moving the planes from the factory and they would be flying them into battle. It was a class of thirty-two—thirty men and two women. Helen Long was the other female in the group. Liddy hadn’t gotten to know her at Avenger. She was a serious gal, and had a reputation for being somewhat of a loner. Helen came into the program with more hours logged than any of the other women in their class, and she was a by-the-book flyer. Liddy tried to break in with her, but soon accepted their role as classmates, and she missed her sister-friends.

The studying had gotten easier for Liddy and the flying was pure bliss. The planes were always fast and newer than anything she took up in training. She spent her off time writing letters home, and to her classmates who were spread across the country, and to Reid.

Every few days she wrote him a letter and would receive one back. Mail that crossed the ocean was pretty unpredictable, so they didn’t always arrive in the order that they had been written. But when an obvious gap showed itself, they just kept writing and it was all eventually pieced together. Even though he was thousands of miles away, he made her feel safe, safe in a way that no other man had ever made her feel. Not even Jack and Crik. With them she felt safe physically, but her spirit, her heart, it was all so new with Reid.

Liddy knew enough about combat from the war stories she heard growing up that she wasn’t surprised that Reid didn’t write anything about his missions or of the war, even if he could have gotten it by the censors, but he didn’t try. She did learn that he didn’t like the cold, grew up in Florida, and that he loved to fly as much as she did. She thought she could tell him anything and wondered if one day she would have the chance.