THE THIEF
Two minutes into their shift, Daisy felt a tap on her shoulder. Fully expecting it to be one of the girls, she flung the hand away. She was working on a range arc calculation.
“I’m busy,” she said.
But it was not one of the girls. It was Nixon, a dark look in his eye. “In my office, Wilder.” On the balcony, Dunn and Major Oscar avoided eye contact, suddenly very involved in their notes. The girls, however, all stared as they passed. Nixon slammed the wooden door shut and went to sit behind a large desk piled high with manila folders and coffee-stained books. Daisy remained standing. “I heard about your little joyride yesterday. Did you know I can charge you ladies with unauthorized entry of a military installation?” he said.
Oh boy. She knew it had been a dumb idea. But why was she the only one in trouble? “No, I didn’t, sir. You must mean our visit to Opana.”
“Damn right.”
A plum pit formed in her throat. Her legs trembled. Being in trouble was nothing new, but Nixon intimidated her on a whole new level. He was school principal, boss, policeman and judge all rolled into one. Not only could he fire her, he could put her in jail, or the brig or whatever it was the military called it.
“There was no bad intent on our part. We were passing by and thought it would be a good idea to see the site firsthand, to get a better understanding of what we’re dealing with.”
“Passing by? You just happened to be driving along in the most remote section of the island?”
“We were on a mission, sir.”
“If you were on a mission, you don’t think I’d know about it? Nor do we send the WARDs on missions.”
She told him about Moon and their hunt for information. A person with a heart would understand. But the jury was still out with Nixon. When she finished, he stretched and folded his arms behind his head, leaning back in the chair and looking out the tiny window. An awkward silence filled the room. Daisy noticed a framed photo of him with a sunny-faced blonde woman. Anyone could see that they were young and in love. They were both smiling. She at the camera, and Nixon at his lovely wife. She wondered how he’d lost her.
“Sir, if you don’t mind my asking, why am I the only one in here?” she asked, figuring there was nothing to lose at this point.
“That’s easy. Because the man I spoke to couldn’t remember any of your names, but he said one of you was six feet tall and wearing pants. I’m guessing you were also with Fluffy and Yates and Davis. Am I right?”
Daisy held back a laugh. “It’s Fluff.”
“Fluff, Fluffy, I don’t care. How can anyone be taken seriously with a name like that?”
His utter refusal to give any of them a chance was growing tiresome. “Have you ever bothered to have a conversation with the woman? I think that if you did, it might answer your question. She’s intelligent and curious and kind.”
An imperceptible flare of his nostrils told her all she needed to know. Well, too damn bad. Fluff was about the sweetest, most bighearted girl Daisy knew. She deserved better. Nixon made a note in the black wire notebook he carried everywhere, then said, “Let me remind you that this is not a sorority. This is the United States Army. Have you forgotten why you’re here?”
“No, sir.”
“Not for fun and games and definitely not to fraternize with the boys.”
The insinuation shocked her. “You think we went there to fraternize? Would you like to know what I learned while at Opana?” He didn’t answer, so she took the liberty of continuing. “Ortiz explained every piece of equipment in the K-30 down to the high-voltage rectifier. We now know that their antenna has very high gain, and the more gain, the stronger the shout and more sensitive the listen. We got a visual of the oscilloscope and a firsthand account of how the sweep signal passes through a calibrated phase shifter. He even let us turn the large hand wheel on the front panel so we could get an accurate measure of delay between transmitted and received pulses. It’s through the trombone—”
“That’s enough, Wilder,” he said with a flip of his hand. “You’re dismissed.”
The word almost knocked her over. From the room or the army? “Dismissed?”
“Get back to work and stay out of trouble.”
Trouble had a way of following her around these days, but she wasn’t telling him that.
In the coming weeks, Daisy worked harder than ever to learn the required calculations to be promoted to filterer. She kept her head in the game and ignored all distractions—Nixon and his permanent frown, Thelma prancing around like a peacock, Peg dropping veiled insults almost daily, along with various other trainings that came up unexpectedly. Like how to carry a litter, or Morse code. For someone obsessed with code names, poor Fluff struggled with Morse, and Daisy had to work overtime to help her.
In the evenings, Betty showed them the proper way to make grits, how to fry your okra so it was just the right amount of crispy, and the secrets to New Orleans biscuits and gravy. Only problem was, Southern food loved its butter, which was damn near impossible to come by. Every so often, Lei would bring some over and Betty kept it under lock and key, rationing it out sparingly.
Radio and newspaper reports included nothing about the Enterprise or her mission, and the waiting was growing harder by the day. Daisy thought about Walker constantly, though she rarely spoke about him, and she could only imagine how Betty must be feeling. “This here is the problem with being in love. All anyone talks about is how love makes the world go round, but love also contains a big helping of pain and misery. When the party in question is taken away from you, for one,” Betty said one night over hush puppies and pulled pork.
“Still, I’d rather be in love than not in love,” Fluff argued.
“It’s like a fever, rattling my bones—” Betty lowered her voice to a whisper “—and I’m afraid of what will happen if Chuck doesn’t come back.”
Fluff reached over and grabbed Betty’s hand. “He is coming back. No ifs, ands or buts. Come on, let’s pray,” she said, grabbing Daisy’s hand, too. Daisy was thankful that Fluff knew what to say, because she was at a loss for words. “Dear Lord, we pray that you look out for our loved ones out there fighting. That you hold them in your light and keep them safe from all harm. Please give them courage to face the challenges and fill them with the strength of a thousand men. In case you need to know, we’re praying for two in particular, Chuck Yates and Walker Montgomery. Please bring them home alive, Lord. Amen.”
Daisy noticed more blond hair in the shower drain, and sometimes she would hear Betty making tea in the middle of the night. Part of the problem was the eerie stillness that came over the house at three o’clock in the morning. That was enough to keep anyone up. How she missed the liquid sounds of the ocean. The one good thing about sleeping at Shafter was that Walker the cat—renamed Blanche once they realized she was female—made her rounds between the three beds each night. Black with white socks and a pink nose, she livened up the house with her feline spunk. In fact it soon became apparent that Blanche could chase her own tail for a good half hour.
“That cat is onto something. We should all learn to be so self-sufficient,” Fluff said.
“Her brain is the size of a peanut,” Betty said.
Daisy stuck up for Blanche. “Animals are smarter than we think. I wouldn’t discount her.”
“As long as she snuggles with me, I really don’t care,” Betty said.
Though the shifts were only six hours, working at Little Robert was draining. All that focus and the continuous pressure not to make mistakes. Nixon hovered, and since the visit to Opana, Daisy was extra careful not to draw attention to herself. Tension coated the walls and the tabletops, and everyone was still on edge about the next attack. None of the men spoke it out loud, but you could tell some of them lacked faith in the WARDs. An offhand comment here, roll of the eyes there.
One afternoon, Fluff seemed particularly pensive on the way home. “Does Lieutenant Dunn flirt with any of you?”
“Nope. I made it clear from day one I’m not open for business,” Betty said.
“Me neither. But I see how he is around you,” Daisy said.
Fluff seemed buoyed by the news. “I get the feeling he likes me, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. On the one hand, he’s handsome and charming, but on the other, he might be a little old for me. What do you think?”
Daisy thought Fluff was being too generous in her assessment of the man. His overabundance of touching was enough to raise suspicion. That and the fact that Fluff was not the only one he flirted with. The way he prowled the control room reminded her of the roosters walking the dusty streets of Hale‘iwa.
“Stay away from that one, honey. He’s a BTO,” Betty said.
“A BTO?”
“A big-time operator.”
Daisy nodded. “I second that.”
“Goodness, you two are harsh critics. He’s been nothing but sweet to me since day one. At least he smiles and has complimentary things to say.”
“What’s he complimenting?” Betty asked.
Fluff got a dreamy look on her face. “My eyes, for one. He said a person could drown in them if they weren’t careful.”
Daisy thought back to Walker’s comments on the various kinds of intelligence. While Daisy lacked in book smarts, Fluff clearly lacked in man smarts. Not that Daisy herself was any genius in that department, but when it boiled down to it, men were just animals, and she’d had some success with those.
“Nixon said we are not here to fraternize with the boys, and I’m pretty sure that includes Dunn,” Daisy said.
“He’s doing all the fraternizing. I’m just doing my job,” Fluff said, looking hurt.
“Keep it that way,” Betty said.
When they arrived home, Daisy went out back to collect the laundry on the line. Between the three of them, their clothes were as different as their personalities. Whimsical for Fluff, expensive and tailored for Betty, and practical for Daisy. She enjoyed the warm sun on her shoulders as she folded each item, and her thoughts once again went to Walker. She’d found it was easier to give in than to fight it, and allowed herself to imagine a ride on the beach. Only this time, it ended in a kiss. Once she had everything in the basket, she realized there were no bras and underwear. Inside, she hollered to Betty, “Where did you put all the undergarments?”
Betty poked her head out from the bathroom. “What do you mean? I hung them on the line.”
“Well, they aren’t there.”
“Hang on.”
Betty came out wrapped in a towel, another on her head, and they went out back. “Do you think Gwen or Florence might have taken them by mistake?”
Their houses backed up into the same weedy lawn, but each had its own rusted-pipe clothesline. Unless one of them was drunk in the middle of the night, it was highly unlikely.
“It would be peculiar if they had,” Daisy said.
“Maybe they blew off. Did you check the hedge over there?” Betty pointed at the mock orange.
Not a stitch of wind. There was no way they could have blown off and clear across the yard, but she checked anyway. She was down on her hands and knees when Fluff came out.
“Did you lose something?”
“My underwear.”
Fluff laughed. “Better not let Nixon hear you say that. But seriously, why are you looking in the hedge for them?”
“Actually, not just my underwear, but all of ours. Bras, too. I hung them all out this morning and now they’re gone,” Daisy said, standing up and brushing off the grass from her pants.
“I’ll go next door and ask,” Fluff said.
She was gone for all of two minutes and returned shaking her head. “Gwen said no, nor did she see anyone around. Did you check the washing machine? Maybe they’re still inside.”
Daisy trusted her memory. “I know I hung them up because I was specifically thinking how sad my underwear was compared to both of yours. And that it might be time for me to splurge on something prettier.”
Until now, there had been no reason. And no money.
“There has to be a reasonable explanation,” Betty said.
“Like what?”
“Maybe it’s against military regulations to hang your delicates in public?” Fluff said in all seriousness.
“That’s silly. And anyway, someone would have warned us,” Daisy said.
“What about the young guard that found you sleeping in the grass dreaming about Walker. What if he took them?” Fluff said.
Daisy ignored the Walker comment because technically, she had been dreaming about him. “Why on earth would he take them?”
“I’m just thinking out loud.”
Daisy was exhausted and went over to Blanche, who lay curled up in a pool of late-afternoon sun. One paw covered her eyes.
“He seemed harmless.”
“Regardless. I’ll question him when I see him. Remember, we don’t make assumptions,” Fluff said with her arms crossed over her chest for effect.
At some point in the blustery night, Daisy had to close the window because of a sideways rain blowing in through the window and onto her face. She tiptoed around until she found another blanket in a hall closet, and snuggled up under it. Fluff, who could sleep through just about anything, didn’t even stir. After a restless half hour or so, just when she had begun to drift off, a loud siren rattled all the windows and shook the floorboards. She bolted upright. Fluff moaned.
“Air raid!” Daisy yelled, as she jumped up and ran to the dresser to grab whatever she could find to slip on. “Get up!”
The darkness was nearly absolute, but she heard Fluff rustle around and open the closet door. A moment later, Betty came flying down the hallway. “Wake up, wake up! Air raid!”
“We’re up,” Daisy said.
Gas masks and helmets all hung by the front door and they banged into the table and fumbled around grasping for them. Betty held the door open, and the three of them huddled together under the front eave. It felt about forty degrees, but that was the least of their worries. Something about that undulating wail haunted Daisy to the core.
“Damn it to hell, why in the middle of the night and why in the pouring rain?” Betty yelled.
Behind the screen door, back in the house, they heard a meow.
“What about Blanche?” Daisy asked.
“What about her?” Betty said.
“We can’t leave her.”
She had already lost one animal to the war, and refused to leave another trapped in a house that could be bombed or strafed at any moment. Was there a rule that said a human life was more important than that of a cat? In just several short weeks, Blanche had become an indispensable part of their makeshift family.
“You think she’s going to let you just carry her to the shelter? In this rain?” Betty asked.
“I can try.”
The minute Daisy opened the door, a small shape darted out past them, blurring into the inky night. So much for bringing Blanche with them. But at least she wouldn’t be stuck inside. Fortunately, Betty had an umbrella and the three of them smashed together and made a dash for the shelter, which was just down the street carved into the edge of a hillside. By the time they got there, they were wet to the bone. Two others had already arrived.
“Watch your step, it’s muddy in here. And there’s bufos,” someone said just as Daisy’s shoe squished down.
Fluff shuddered. “Is that you, JoAnn?”
“Yes, and Tippy.”
As more girls filed in, the wooden structure creaked and groaned. Daisy, Betty and Fluff were pressed into the far corner, which slanted down at an unnatural angle. They hunkered together, shoulder to shoulder. Talk about being right in the thick of it. Visions of the dogfight overhead, and a sky full of planes, nailed Daisy to the bench. Her teeth began to chatter.
“Does anyone know details?” someone said.
“My guess is the enemy is retaliating for whatever our boys on the Enterprise have done to them,” Thelma said from across the way.
At Little Robert, Thelma spoke incessantly about Walker and his bravery and how she couldn’t wait to walk into those arms when he returned. So much so, that Daisy had begun to wonder if he had written Thelma a goodbye note, too. Could he be playing the both of them? The thought turned her stomach inside out.
Once everyone settled in, they strapped on helmets. The mood was dark as the moonless night. Daisy closed her eyes and worked on calming herself down. Lord, she wished she was at home and not trapped in this shoddy sardine-can shelter. She found it hard to breathe. Then Fluff screamed, jumped up and started stomping around, splattering mud everywhere.
“Get it off me!”
“Centipede!” someone yelled.
A new level of panic rippled through the cramped room. In Daisy’s eyes, centipedes were nearly as terrifying as Japanese bombers. She’d had more bad bites than she could count; angry, swollen body parts and sleepless nights. When Fluff sat back down, she sought out Daisy’s hand and held on tight. Within a few minutes, her heart rate had slowed and she was able to think straight.
They listened for the sound of engines or explosions, but all they could hear was the splash of raindrops, an occasional bufo croaking and the sucking sounds of mud. After some time passed, small fires of conversation started up. I have my gun and will shoot to kill. Have you heard they’ve made military zones on the Mainland and are rounding up Japanese people? Which Japanese? Any. What do you think about Sergeant Washington? Can I have your recipe for lilikoi pie?
“Say, did you know the real reason for propellers on airplanes is to keep the pilots cool?” Fluff suddenly blurted out.
“Nonsense,” someone said.
“Yes indeed. When they stop spinning, the pilots start sweating,” she said. That got a laugh, and then jokes and funny stories began to circulate. Another hour passed with no attack and no all clear. Then someone said, “Wait, I hear something. Quiet.”
A hush fell.
Meow.
“It’s Blanche!” Daisy said.
They opened the door for the cat, but she refused to come inside. Daisy wove her way out, picked up the creature and brought her inside. Blanche settled on Daisy’s lap, kneading and purring and content as a baby. When the all clear sounded ten minutes later, Blanche was the only one not happy to leave.