“Gorgeous,” said Liddy.
“A regular beauty queen,” said Louise.
“Or beauty king maybe,” Bet added with a giggle.
“My parents said I was the most pretty, perfect baby, that’s what they said about my brothers too. But I wasn’t a pretty baby and my brothers were down-right scary little creatures, crinkly for months. There are lots of pictures to prove it. They think a woman shouldn’t be a pilot, not just me, any woman. Have I told you that?”
“No,” said Liddy.
“So here I am, not so perfect anymore, am I?”
“Nope, you’re a mess,” confirmed Liddy.
“Thank you, Liddy.”
“You’re welcome, honey.”
Then Bet flopped over onto Liddy’s lap and passed out.
It was eleven thirty when the baymates were dropped at the entrance to the base. Liddy and Louise got out of the car.
“Now what?” asked Louise.
“We get to the bays as quietly as possible and hope there hasn’t been a bed check,” Liddy said matter-of-factly.
“Us maybe, but them?” Louise looked back at Joy Lynn and Bet who were staggering out of the car and talking in the amplified tones of the inebriated.
Getting the sloshed sisters back to the bays was like escorting sacks of live potatoes. The four sober women staggered under the weight of their drunken friends and Marina snapped a heel and cursed.
“What was that, Uptown?” Joy Lynn laughed and opened her mouth with shock. “Miss George, was that a curse word I just heard come out of your hoity-toity mouth?”
“Oh, shut-up, Joy Lynn.” Marina stopped and looked for her heel, but she couldn’t see anything in the dark. So she squatted down to look and ended up on her hands and knees as she brushed her hands over the ground.
“No really, did I hear profan-ni-profan-nanitty from your perfect, uppity little mouth?”
“So help me, Joy Lynn, if you don’t shut-up, I’m gonna smack you.”
“Go for it, sister.” Joy Lynn stuck her chin out toward Marina.
Marina stood up and cranked her arm back and Liddy grabbed her. “Whoa, missy, let’s just get back to the bays and you can settle your differences there.”
The language could get pretty rough at Avenger, and it found its way into the mouths of most of the trainees. Marina wasn’t a most though, and she took pride in not joining in, for a while. Then she let it slip like the rest of them. But every time she did it bothered her, for a while, and then she found that propriety had no place in this life. She’d made a commitment she would return to graciousness when she was delivered back into the outside world. The troop continued on, now with Marina doing her own little lop-sided stagger and cursing the whole situation under her breath.
Joy Lynn broke into song, “We’re the HPs of Avenger Field…”
Bet joined in, “…Wings of silver will be our shield.”
“Shut it, ladies,” Louise ordered.
As they passed the admin building, Liddy saw Major Trent standing at his office window watching the violation. When he lowered the blinds, Liddy could see the curtain of the WASP program closing on them all.
Chapter Fifteen
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.