“Helen [Richards] and I are roommates, and there are eight of us girls with thirty-five fellows. We spent today getting passes and entrance red tape then went to town. I’m surely sold on Palm Springs for its warm sun, beautiful mountains and quaint shops in town. This is on my ‘post-war living’ list. Our barracks are two-by-four with outside plumbing (building adjoining though modern interior). No hot water and sand everywhere. Tomorrow we start flying. It will be dual in BC-1s (AT-6 type). Then in order, the P-47, 39, 40 and 51. We are divided in flights A and B, fly half day, school half day. I’m in A flight and must be on the line at 7:15 each a.m. We have to wear skirts at evening mess—dern it.”
—Dorothy Scott, letter home, December 1, 1943, Palm Springs
December 1943—Long Beach, California
“Safe travels, sweetie,” Bob said over the phone as Nancy sat in the Long Beach office. “Watch out for the twin peaks of the San Jacinto Mountains. And say hi to everyone for me.”
Nancy already had her bag packed for her flight to Palm Springs. She wanted to check out the pursuit school and wish everyone well, plus speak to Florene in person about the P-47 crash in Dallas. “I’m looking forward to seeing how it’s all running. This will be the forerunner to future groups and normalizing women advancing to more powerful aircraft.”
“Yes, General Tunner is brilliant.”
Nancy waited.
“And you, too, of course,” Bob amended, amusement in his words. “No one is more brilliant than my wife.”
Nancy laughed.
Later that day, when she arrived in Palm Springs, she found a group of women pilots, including some of the Originals, who’d joined pursuit school: Dorothy Scott, Florene Miller, Helen Richards, Helen McGilvery, Nancy Batson, Gertrude Meserve, and Barbara Donahue were all at the same table in the mess hall.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” Nancy greeted them.
Dorothy scooted her chair over to make more room. “Glad you could make it.”
Nancy settled among them. “How’s everything so far?”
“Well, our planes are painted in camouflage, so that’s taken some getting used to,” Gertrude said, her blue eyes rounded. “We’ve been told we have to wear skirts at evening mess, but at least the food is excellent.”
Everyone laughed.
“You all have flights scheduled this afternoon?” Nancy asked the group.
“Scottie is going up in the AT-6 trainer with her instructor,” Florene said, motioning with her fork toward Dorothy. “I’ll go up after her.”
“Great, I’ll come out and watch the takeoffs and landings.” This would be a good opportunity to speak one-on-one with Florene about her accident.
“I wrote all our complaints to my twin brother,” Dorothy said. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the news. But mostly, I bragged about being here.” She turned her smile upon Nancy. “Thank you for selecting me for pursuit school. It’s such a privilege.”
The other women voiced their thanks as well.
“It is pretty swell,” Florene said with a huge smile.
The women continued to talk, catching each other up on recent letters from home and discussing war news about how the Italians had surrendered to the Allies in September, though the Germans had rescued Mussolini. In October, Italy had joined the Allies and declared war on Germany. And in November, the British had performed an air raid on Berlin.
“I’m ready to head out,” Florene eventually said. “Who’s coming?”
Nancy cleared the table with the others, and everyone dispersed. She walked with Dorothy and Florene to the hangar and shook hands with the instructor, 2nd Lt. Robert M. Snyder. Once Dorothy and her instructor had finished their precheck on the AT-6, Nancy waved them off, then turned to Florene.
“How are you doing out here? Any nerves when flying since your forced landing?”
Florene hesitated. “Not when flying in general, but I don’t like to fly close to sunset, even if it’s only circling the airfield. I guess my brain is telling me to take more precautions and not fly when it’s extra windy or get stuck in the dark.”
“I understand.” Nancy looked toward the control tower that was busy giving planes clearance to take off and directing other planes to land. “The wind is light today.”
“Yes, four miles per hour out of the northwest,” Florene said. “Although there’s a high overcast, it won’t mess with visibility of the runway.”
They watched Dorothy do takeoffs and landings with her instructor a couple of times in the AT-6. They continued to talk and watch the incoming and outgoing flights, including a P-39.
“There’s Scottie again,” Florene said. “This will be her final approach, then it’s my turn.”
Nancy spotted Dorothy’s plane descending toward the runway. A form appeared behind her, higher in altitude but very close.
Nancy frowned and shielded her eyes. It was another plane, no doubt about that. “What’s that P-39 doing?”
“Does he not see Scottie’s plane right below him?” Florene said, panic sharp in her voice. “He’s way too close.”
Florene began to jog toward the runway, waving her arms, although there was no way the pilots would notice her.
Nancy ran after her.
Surely the tower had seen the close proximity of the P-39 and could warn it. But as Nancy ran, she saw what she never wanted to see. The P-39 collided with the AT-6, and the tail section of the AT-6 was severed.
Her heart jolted as she watched both planes veer off their courses, then plummet straight toward the earth. There wasn’t far to go.
Her stomach lurched, and she stopped, staring in disbelief and horror. Florene had also stopped a few feet ahead of her.
Both planes struck the ground not far from each other in a terrible, gut-wrenching crunch. All hopes for a different outcome were shredded to bits.
Nancy began to run again. In the back of her mind, she heard jeeps and emergency vehicles, and seconds later, they roared past her toward the wreckage. Dark smoke billowed up from both planes, but still, Nancy and Florene ran.
Suddenly, the AT-6 containing Dorothy and her instructor burst into flames as the jeeps came to a stop near them.
Florene cried out and sank to her knees as the orange flames consumed Dorothy’s plane. Nancy stood rooted to the ground, arms wrapped about her torso as horror vibrated through her. Perhaps Dorothy had bailed out? But Nancy knew there’d been no time. Both planes had been too close to the ground.
Maybe Dorothy had crawled out of the plane before it had burst into flames?
But as the terrible minutes crept by, there was no sign of any pilots having escaped. Nancy tasted ash in her mouth, and smoke seemed to burn through her lungs.
Others gathered around them in stunned silence, and Nancy helped Florene to her feet. Pulling Florene into her arms, Nancy really had no words of comfort. No words at all.
In one horrific instant, Dorothy was suddenly gone. She’d been so full of life, so excited about pursuit school, and so invested in making sure transitions were being done right and fairly.
Somehow, Nancy made it through the next couple of hours. All three pilots had died—Dorothy Scott, her instructor Snyder, and the pilot of the P-39. Nancy felt like she was living in a disturbing dream that she couldn’t wake up from when she met with the commander of the base, who determined that the pilot of the P-39 hadn’t seen the AT-6 below because of his banking altitude and the position of the low sun.
“Your pilot was not at fault,” the commander told both Nancy and Florene. “I know that’s a very small comfort, but I also have an idea of what the WASP pilots have been up against. The tower could see everything as it played out, and the warning didn’t come fast enough. The P-39 pilot wasn’t given clearance to land.”
All very small comforts, but Nancy knew they’d be important in the days to come. Right now, she had a grieving squadron and a family to inform.
As she and Florene walked out of the commander’s office, the velvety evening air made the entire incident feel surreal.
She turned to Florene. “How are you holding up?”
Florene paused in her step and dabbed her face with a handkerchief. Her eyes were rimmed red and her nose chafed and raw. “I can’t believe it . . . I mean, I watched it, but it seems unreal.”
“I know.” Nancy dragged in a breath. “We need to notify her family. This will be difficult, but can you call her parents and her brother, Ed? You were her squadron leader and have spent the most time with her—I think they’d want to hear it from you.”
Florene’s eyes filled with tears again, but she said with resolve, “Of course. I’ll do it.”
Nancy set a hand on Florene’s arm. “It won’t be easy, but it’s important. When I called Cornelia Fort’s family, they were upset but also grateful that Cornelia had been doing what she loved. And, of course, it helped them to know that the accident wasn’t her fault.”
Florene sniffled. “I’ll let Scottie’s family know.”
Nancy pulled her into a hug and held on tight for a moment. “We can do this. It’s hard and shocking right now, but we also need to find ways to prevent this from happening again.”
Florene drew away and wiped at her eyes. “The tower has already admitted to fault.”
“Right, but I think the planes need to be more visible. An overcast day and a desert terrain makes the camouflage paint nearly impossible to see. Which is the entire point of camouflage, but maybe not for a training school.”
That night, Nancy spoke to Bob over the phone with the lights off in one of the offices. That way, she could look out the window and see the gathered stars spread across the sky.
She’d been stoic for several hours, trying to hold herself together and make the decisions that needed to be made. But with Bob, she could cry and rant, and he’d be a sounding board, one not telling her to calm down.
“I can’t believe that pilot didn’t see her plane,” Nancy said. “I mean, it happened, so it’s possible, but the tragedy is completely senseless. A complete waste. Dorothy was such a lovely human being.”
“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” Bob said softly. “I can’t imagine what that must have felt like.”
“I think I was in shock,” she said. “Florene too. It’s like we saw the crash happening but couldn’t fully comprehend it all.”
“Do you want me to come to Palm Springs?”
“No,” Nancy said, even though she wanted to see him more than ever. “I’m not staying past tomorrow. I’ve asked Florene to contact the family, and she’ll be accompanying the body home.”
“I can meet you somewhere else,” he offered. “Name the place.”
Nancy rubbed at her forehead, feeling a headache building. “Stay put. I’m stopping again in Dallas on my way back. We have more damage control to do. With nearly 300 WASP in operation now, we need to make sure all our hard work to get the women to transition to the pursuits isn’t going to be compromised.” She released a thready breath. “It sounds coldhearted, I know, but Florene’s accident wasn’t too long ago, and now Dorothy’s.” She closed her eyes.
“What can I do?” Bob asked.
“Just answer the phone when I call,” she said. “I’m sorry it’s so late tonight, but I guess you’re used to me waking you up.”
“I am, and it’s not a problem.” Bob’s voice lowered. “You’ll get through this. We all will. Dorothy was a victim of an accident. Nothing was her fault. She loved her job, and she probably wouldn’t have changed many things about her choices.”
“She was tickled to join pursuit school.” She moved her gaze to the window and the silent stars there. “I wish that pilot had been flying a different route.”
The next day, Nancy made her stop in Dallas, met with the commander to go over her agenda, then reviewed the reports on Florene’s accident.
A couple of days after that, Florene reported to Nancy how everything was going with the funeral plans for Dorothy.
“Her twin brother, Ed, is a remarkable man,” Florene said. “He acknowledged that a lot of American families are sacrificing for this war. And sometimes, we have to pay dearly.”
Nancy’s eyes filled, and she gripped the receiver tighter.
“Ed told me that his sister always wanted to be first in everything, and now she’s also first in death.” Florene’s voice cracked. “He believes she’s up there, first to lead the family into eternity. Waiting for everyone.”
Nancy wiped at the tears on her face. “Thank you for sharing that. I needed to hear it.” She drew in a breath. “I have to ask you, Florene, do you want to finish pursuit school?”
“Yes,” Florene said without hesitation. “What happened to Dorothy shook me up, but it’s part of the flying risk. We all know it, yet we all continue.”
“All right, then. After pursuit school, you’ll transfer to Long Beach,” Nancy said. “It’s the rule if a pilot washes out on an airplane.”
“I understand. I’d be happy to work under someone else for a bit.”
“B.J. will take care of you,” Nancy said, her heart aching. They all took care of each other, and losing one of their own had left a hole.
“I’ve no doubt,” Florene said. “I’m grateful to each of you. How did it go in Dallas?”
“There’s a lot of work to be done,” Nancy said. “But it’s all necessary and will be good in the long run. I’m recommending that the transition department be much more thorough. Each student needs more technical training as well. I’m also going to make it clear that just because a woman becomes a WASP, she’s not automatically qualified to advance to pursuit school.”
“Agreed,” Florene said. “Everyone should be judged on her own merits. That’s what Scottie was pushing for too.”
“Exactly. And if a student is borderline on the qualifications, she needs to remain in training until she can easily transition. But I’m also emphasizing that if a woman doesn’t want to fly pursuit, she’s not required to. Regardless, we’re going to encourage the transition. Dallas has been struggling the most, but now we’ll use that experience to set a higher standard for everyone.”
“Thank you, Nancy, for everything,” Florene said. “I don’t think you get enough credit doing so much of the behind-the-scenes work. I’m sure you’d rather be flying like the rest of us.”
“I’m flying much more lately than I have been,” Nancy mused. “Mostly to pave the way. We’re all contributing where we can the most.”
It wasn’t until the first training group of the six Originals and several of Houston’s graduates finished pursuit school and began successfully ferrying the larger planes that Nancy finally felt the loss of Dorothy Scott had been honored.