Mr. and Mrs. Bailey were at the edge of their seats, waving enthusiastically as their daughter marched by the audience. Calli sat with Joy Lynn’s family, and she cradled her swollen belly in her arms.
The Calbert Clan was a noisy and jolly bunch. Mama and Daddy Calbert, Joy Lynn’s four younger sisters, aunts, uncles and a few cousins—a full Southern brigade was there to cheer on their Joy Lynn. The hair was high and the hats were big. Pretty silver flasks were safely tucked in pockets and purses, and clearly they had already been tilted a few times. It was easy to see they were Joy Lynn’s people. Uncle Geoffrey was there—yes, Uncle Pastel Puffy. He flitted about in a striped silk suit that was touched off with a bright violet satin vest and tie. A flowered silk hanky draped neatly from his breast pocket. Liddy had never seen such beautiful clothes on a man.
The new senior class took their place at the head of the formation, which signaled the graduates that they were no longer trainees. The women sat reverently in the front rows, listening to Colonel Wate gush over them from the podium. Finally, he said the words they were all waiting to hear, “Graduates, will you please stand to receive your wings.”
Those glorious words broke the formality that had its grip on the women, and the women wore a sea of smiles. With a respectable military clip, the graduates rose from their seats and filed out and up to the platform. Captain Charles called each name and the women crossed the stage to shake Colonel Wate’s hand. He had a word of praise or encouragement for every graduate, and genuine happiness glowed on his rosy cheeks. The graduates then stepped to Major Trent to receive their wings.
“You fell in, Hall. Congratulations!” were the words Colonel Wate had for Liddy.
Trent had his right hand extended when Liddy stepped in front of him. She placed her hand in his and he held it tight as he set her wings in her left hand. He looked down at her and didn’t let go, even when another trainee was waiting to receive her wings.
After the ceremony, parents and in some cases husbands, aunts or uncles pinned the wings on the WASP graduates. Bet’s mother did the honors for her. Geoffrey insisted on doing the pinning for Joy Lynn. He was after all the one who would make sure it was done correctly. Calli pinned Marina, Louise and Liddy and, for the rest of their lives, they would remember the moment with crystal clarity.
A reception was held in the rec hall and then the graduates scattered, but came back together in the evening to set off the fire bell and offer up their last dose of rowdy to the base. The following day they would leave Avenger Field and have long trips home for most of them, but that didn’t get them wound-down any earlier. The girls slept less than three hours before they heard reveille, which wasn’t for them, and they rolled over and smiled.
All of the mattresses were stripped bare and the lockers were empty. Gosport’s tail floated back and forth as he strolled along the porch, saying goodbye to his fans. After he had bid his final farewell, he found a warm spot where the October Texas sun had heated up the concrete, and he stretched out to wait for his next round of admirers.
The baymates were in their dress uniforms as they finished packing. Four suitcases were laid across Marina’s bed and she shuffled her belongings between them.
Bet sat on her suitcase, while Liddy tried to latch it for her. “I had room to spare when I got here.”
The suitcases were click, click, clicked closed just as Joy Lynn came into the bay. “The cattle car just pulled in with some of the new class. Now it’s ready and waiting for us, ladies.”
“They’re wasting no time booting us outta here,” complained Bet.
“They can boot away,” Marina pushed her cases to the end of her bed.
“Our chariot awaits, HPs,” said Louise and she and Joy Lynn each grabbed their bags and one of Marina’s and walked to the door. Louise looked back at Liddy and Bet and asked, “You coming?”
“We’re right behind you,” said Liddy as Bet took one last swipe at some luck from the top of their heads before they walked out the door.
“Hey, watch it, Red, this isn’t flight hair here,” Marina said smoothing her silky mane.
Liddy clicked her suitcase closed then walked into the bathroom and stood at the mirror where she carefully buttoned her jacket and stared blankly at her reflection.
“Are you okay?” Bet asked.
Liddy snapped out of her trance. “Yeah, fine.”
Bet rubbed the top of Liddy’s head.
“Don’t take it all, Bailey.”
“I need to store it up.” Bet looked hard at Liddy and studied her, deep in thought. “What if you’d climbed into another train car the day we met and we hadn’t shared a bay and…? I feel like I can do anything now. And I don’t believe I would have made it, had you not chosen that train car.”
“As much as I’d love to take the credit for giving the world a fabulous pilot, there’s nothing I could have done to give you what you had to have inside. You just didn’t know it was there.” Liddy wrapped her arms around Bet’s little frame and gave a tight squeeze. She brushed her hand over the red curls and said, “For luck.”
They picked up their suitcases, took one last glance around the room and left their bay for the last time.
Twenty-two and a half weeks earlier these women stepped onto Avenger Field for the first time. They were all so very different from one another, different backgrounds, education, families, pasts, but with one thing in common—they were fly girls. That day they all left the base in WASP uniforms with a common purpose, a common dream and wings.
Solemnly, the women climbed into the cattle car to take the three mile ride to Sweetwater. There they would board trains and buses, or climb into an automobile to take a ten day leave before they began the next chapter in their lives. The newest batch of Women’s Airforce Service Pilots didn’t talk but sang their song softly to one another.
Major Trent watched from a distance as the graduates disappeared into the trailer and the truck pulled away. War complicated life, and life complicated war and an urgency to do something brave ran through him.
The trailer rolled out the front gates of Avenger Field and bumped and shimmied over the ruts in the road. Joy Lynn and Marina broke the somber mood in the car when they started battling with one of their crude and proper bits. The gals laughed and soon the dreaming and bragging picked up speed. The trailer filled with celebration as the women reveled in their accomplishment.
A mile or so back, a cloud of dust was kicked up behind an Army jeep and gained on the WASP cargo by the minute. The trainees heard the honking of a horn and looked out the window to see the jeep lining up with the cab of the truck.
“It’s Major Trent,” Bet reported.
“Hey, Hall, looks like they forgot to give you a pink slip,” Carla Vanell cracked. The gals all hooted and joined the tease.
The cattle car driver hit the brakes and rolled to a stop. Trent skidded alongside, parked the jeep and walked to the back of the trailer. He stood at the end of the car and called out, “WASP Liddy Hall.”
The women’s eyes widened with surprise—had their prophecy come true? All attention was on Liddy as she left the bench and opened the door. She stood in the opening and looked out at Trent who was out of breath and glistened with sweat.