I couldn’t. I wouldn’t!
“I’ll be right down.” I threw on a sweater, a wool skirt, and my thickest socks and oxfords. I grabbed a cardigan, then pulled the bobby pins out of my hair, leaving them scattered on the dressing table. I ran my fingers through my hair and started to reach for my lipstick.
No. I wasn’t going on an assignation. I was going flying. I grabbed a scarf and my Kodak 35, then sneaked out the back door.
“Hello, there.” He kissed my cheek—just a quick peck, nothing sexual, but it was an uncommon thing for a man to do back then. The nearness filled my senses with him—his height as he bent down, the scruff of his five-o’clock shadow, the softness of his lips, the scent of leather and wind and faint shaving cream. A thrill chased through me.
“What have you got there?” he asked, looking at my hand.
“My camera.”
“Sorry, Addie girl. No photos allowed.”
“But...”
“No photos. No evidence this ever happened. Can’t put my cohorts in danger.”
I wasn’t the only one with something to lose if I were caught, I realized. Sneaking a civilian—especially a woman—aboard a B-24 was probably grounds for a court martial. “Okay.”
He took it from me, then put his hand in the small of my back. “We need to hurry.”
He hustled me to a panel truck parked on the street near a streetlamp and tapped on the passenger-side window. A man wearing a gray jacket embroidered with the wordsBenson’s Producerolled it down. “This is Carl,” Joe said. “He’s my bombardier. And Kevin is driving.”
The two men nodded at me. The driver tipped his hat. He was wearing a Benson’s Produce jacket, as well.
Joe handed the camera to Carl. “Stash this and give it back to her at the end of the evening, okay?”
He nodded. “Sure thing.”
Joe tugged my arm and led me to the back of the truck, where he opened the double doors. Inside I could dimly make out crates of tomatoes, cartons of fruit, and barrels of potatoes. “I’ve got a space carved out for you.” He made a stirrup with his hands and boosted me into the dark interior.
My throat tightened with second thoughts as he hoisted himselfup behind me. What was I doing, crawling into the back of a dark truck with a man I didn’t really know? What if this was some kind of ominous setup? I hoped he didn’t think...
Joe turned on a flashlight. “You can sit right here.” He indicated an overturned wooden carton hidden between a high stack of crated tomatoes and squash. “I’ll be on the other side.”
Relieved, I sat down where he indicated.
“When we get close, you’ll have to get on the floor, and I’ll arrange the crates around and over you to hide you.” He sat on the truck bed behind barrels of potatoes. “This truck delivers to the commissary just about every night, so hopefully they won’t check the back, but we have to be ready just in case.”
“What’ll happen if we’re caught?”
“We won’t be.”
“But if we are?”
“We won’t be, so don’t worry about it.”
Easier said than done. My heart thudded hard.
Maybe he heard it from across the truck. “Having second thoughts?”
I was, of course—I was terrified. But I was tired of waiting for my life to begin—tired of waiting for a big break at work, for a chance to travel, for the war to be over. I wanted a big life, a life full of adventure, the kind of life I’d seen in the movies. Having a big life meant taking big risks. “No,” I said with more confidence than I felt.
“All right, then.” He knocked on the front wall of the truck cab. The engine roared to life, so loud that further conversation was impossible.
The truck swayed. The crates shifted. The ride probably only lasted thirty or forty minutes, but it felt like it went on all night. I don’t usually get carsick, but the fried chicken I’d had for dinner churned queasily in my stomach.
At last a rap sounded from the cab wall. Joe turned on his flashlight and lurched across the truck. “We’re nearing the base.” He motioned for me to lie on the floor and arranged the crates around me, stackingtwo long crates over me, about three inches over my head. My face was close to a bag of onions, and the pungent, earthy scent heightened the sense of being buried alive.
