39
Leiston Army Airfield
Monday, June 5, 1944
Tony Rosario flung his arms across the wing of the Mustang and kissed it. “Leave him, baby, and come to me. I’ll treat you right. Custom paint job, extra-rich fuel, and all the spark plugs your heart desires.”
Adler laughed along with his friends. “She belongs to Tommy Hayes, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Rosie stood, his fingertips splayed on the wing edge. “Ain’t fair, I tell you. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Is that so?” Nick said. “Don’t let Rosalind hear you talking that way.”
A sheepish smile, and Rosie tucked his hands in his pockets.
But Adler knew how he felt. The day before, the 357th Fighter Group had received its first and only P-51D model, and every pilot salivated over her.
Even sleeker than the B model, she boasted a bubble canopy, giving the pilot unrestricted vision all around and above. She had six machine guns instead of four, with the ammunition belt feed straightened to eliminate the jamming problem.
“More are coming,” Nick said. “Be patient.”
Theo Christopher ran his hand down a propeller blade. “Guess we old veterans will get first crack at them.”
Luis Camacho slapped Theo on the back. “Never thought I’d see the day when we’d call you old.”
Not old, but the war had made a man out of him, especially since Willard Riggs died.
Theo stepped back with a far-off look. “Less than four months of combat, and look at us.”
“Yeah.” Adler led the way to squadron headquarters. They’d been through a lot together. Dozens of the Yoxford Boys had been lost in combat, some killed and some captured, with Stan Mulroney, Morty Shapiro, Riggs, and Floyd Miller shot down in Adler’s section. One bright spot in May was the return of Chuck Yeager to Leiston. With help from the French Resistance, the pilot had evaded capture and sneaked over the Pyrenees into neutral Spain.
“Hey, what happened to El Mesteño?” Cam pointed over to his hardstand.
Adler stared at Cam’s P-51, which wore black-and-white stripes. “That’s not a horse. That’s a zebra.”
The men jogged over, and the smell of fresh paint hit Adler’s nostrils. Wide bands of black and white circled each wing and the fuselage between the canopy and the tail.
“What is this? A practical joke?” Cam marched around his bird, but his ground crew wasn’t present.
Across the perimeter track Bill Beckenbauer knelt on Texas Eagle’s wing with a paint can beside him, and José Flores swiped black paint up and down the fuselage.
“My plane too, boys.” Adler strode over to his hardstand. “What’s up, Beck?”
“Painting.” He didn’t even look up.
“I can see that.”
“Good. Sharp eyesight is vital for a fighter pilot.”
“Beck.”
The crew chief gave him a grin. “You know as much as I do, kid. We received orders to paint stripes, so I’m painting stripes. I’m sure you can figure out why.”
Adler and Nick and Theo and Cam and Rosie looked at one another.
“Recognition,” Nick said.
Cam fingered the taped muzzle of one of Eagle’s machine guns. “So our own men don’t shoot us down.”
“Those sailor boys are trigger happy.” Rosie mimed firing a gun into the air.
D-day. Adler stroked the red-and-yellow checkered nose of his steed. “Tomorrow.”
“If not tomorrow,” Theo said, “soon.”
Everyone knew it was coming. Late in May, the Eighth Air Force had issued an order for officers to carry pistols and enlisted men to carry carbines at all times. Some thought the Nazis might respond to the invasion by dropping paratroopers in England.
Now D-day was here.
What would the day hold? Adler kept stroking the plane’s nose as if soothing a jittery horse. The Allies had achieved air superiority at last, and the RAF and US Eighth and Ninth Air Forces had pounded Luftwaffe airfields, but would it be enough? Once the Germans knew the invasion was happening, they’d chuck every plane in their arsenal into the battle.
They would strafe Allied troops and bomb Allied ships.
Not if Adler could help it.
Cam pointed with his thumb toward the communal site. “Looks like we’ll have a busy day tomorrow. I’m going to grab lunch and take a nap.”
“Sounds good to me,” Rosie said, and he and Theo followed Cam.
Adler’s hand drifted down over the artwork on the nose of the eagle with the US flag and the Texas flag on its wings.
His neck muscles tightened. Maybe he’d ask Beck and Flores to paint over the purple flower while they were at it.
But that seemed spiteful. And incorrect. Violet still held his heart.
“She hasn’t forgiven you, huh?” Nick’s voice was soft.
Yet it hit Adler hard. “No, she has.”
“Have you forgiven her?”
Adler grunted. “Nothing to forgive. She apologized, so I told her I forgave her. But I never blamed her for reacting like that.”
“Adler . . .” Amazing how well the man could scold.
“I’m not beating myself up. I’m just saying it was a lot for her to swallow all at once, and a nasty mouthful at that. You have to admit.”
One corner of Nick’s mouth puckered. “Think you’ll get back together?”
Adler shook his head hard. “I have nothing to offer her. Poor job prospects, another woman’s child to raise, and I’ll be an outcast in town.”
Nick’s dark eyes narrowed in that thoughtful way of his. “Not many women would be willing to take that on.”
“Nope.” And he wouldn’t ask her to. She deserved better.
“Well, you’re willing to take it on.” Nick gave Adler’s arm a light punch. “I’m proud of you.”
“For my son. For Timmy.”
“You’re going to be a great dad.”
Beck sat on the wing, his legs dangling. “Seen the picture of his boy? Don’t know how a man with that ugly mug can have such a cute kid.”
Adler laughed. He hadn’t told many of the men yet, but the more he talked about Timmy, the more real he seemed. “Still can’t believe I’m a father. I can’t wait to meet him.”
Beck swung his feet. “Just wait. Kids have a way of grabbing you and not letting go.”
Adler leaned his shoulder against the fuselage. “Did I tell you I’m writing him letters? I sent that picture you took of Eagle and me after I got my fourth victory. Figured he needs more than my high school graduation picture.”
Beck ran his hand over the four swastikas under the cockpit. “We’ll take another picture when you make ace.”
“Any day now,” Nick said.
Adler shrugged. All that mattered to him now was doing his job well.
Nick crossed his arms. “I’m sure it means a lot to him to know his daddy loves him.”
All he had was one small photo. “How can I love him already?”
Beck and Nick laughed together, two fathers welcoming a third into their fraternity.
Adler tried to imagine this little person who looked like him. What did his voice sound like? His laugh?
It would just be the two of them after the war. And Daddy and Mama. Things would be strained at first, but his parents would welcome him. Not just because of Timmy, but because of who they were.
With Daddy, Mama, and Jesus in his corner, Adler could handle anything.
Violet fanned the magazines into an attractive arc on the table in the Aeroclub lounge, but what did it matter? Mr. Tate was due to arrive at one o’clock, any minute now.
He’d review the logs and pronounce judgment. One more week, maybe two, but their fates were sealed. The thefts continued, random and sporadic, and Violet had no idea who the thief could be. For all she knew, there could be several.
Adler’s suggestions to plug the holes—Violet winced at the memory of the day they’d made those plans—his suggestions had helped, but supplies still disappeared.
Today after Mr. Tate left, Kitty and Violet would tell the staff so they could look for new jobs.
Violet forced in a deep breath against the heaviness in her chest and found a smile for the four airmen chatting in the lounge. For far too long, she hadn’t wanted to be at this place. Now she didn’t want to leave.
She crossed the hall to the music room with its sunny yellow paint and the memory of Adler rediscovering his love for the trumpet and his need for family.
To keep busy, Violet stacked sheet music and set it on the shelf. Adler was right not to take her back. Forgiving someone and trusting that person again were two separate things.
But it still ached. Accepting your fate and being content with it were also two separate things.
The public address system blared in the dining area. Violet tried to head that direction, but all the men came out of the recreation rooms and clogged the hallway.
“What did they say?” someone asked.
“Excuse me, please.” Violet weaved through the crowd and into the dining area.
Kitty almost ran into her. “Now we know why Tate isn’t here.”
“I couldn’t hear. What happened?”
“They closed the base. No one can enter. We have a reprieve.” Kitty wrinkled her nose. “But it also means no one can leave—not even the civilian workers.”
“Our girls . . .”
A dozen workers and volunteers streamed toward them, concern on each face.
“We can’t go home?” Sylvia clutched her apron. “My children need me.”
“They can’t keep us here.” Mabel Smith’s eyes flashed. “We’re British subjects.”
Edna Foster groaned and lowered her head into her hands. “My husband. I can’t spend the night here. What’ll he think?”
“I need to ring my mum.” Young Ann Brewer twisted a towel in her hands.
“Everything will be all right.” Kitty held up her hands. “I’m afraid you can’t go home, and phone calls and messages are forbidden, but we’ll take care of you.”
Plans spun into Violet’s head. The dorm room had never been used, since Violet and Kitty had never persuaded any of the touring shows to veer so far from London. “The dorm room sleeps eight. We’ll get cots for the rest of you.”
Rosalind hugged Edna’s shoulders. “We can sleep tops to tails if need be. Everything will be tickety-boo.”
“It sure will.” Kitty grinned at the ladies. “It’ll be fun. A pajama party.”
“Without pajamas, but we’ll carry on.” Sylvia smoothed her apron. “You heard the gent—they’ll let us eat at the mess and buy soap at the PX. Won’t that be lovely?”
“Does the PX have . . . ?” Ann stepped right up to Violet and Kitty, her face crimson, her voice a whisper. “Do they sell . . . it’s my . . . my time.”
The poor girl. Violet patted her shoulder. “No, they don’t,” she whispered back. “But Miss Kelly and I have plenty. Our mothers mail the supplies to us. You can tell your friends.”
“Looks like we have extra duties today.” Kitty tapped Violet’s arm. “I’ll scrape up more cots and bedding. Why don’t you take the ladies to the PX?”
“In shifts.” They still had to staff the Aeroclub. “Did they say why the base is closed? Security has been tight lately, but—”
“Not a word. Something big is happening.” Kitty held Violet’s gaze, her brown eyes solemn and knowing.
Something so big they couldn’t let one word leak to the outside. Violet swallowed hard. “I think we might be very busy tomorrow.”