Dear Dash,she wrote.
I am afraid I have some bad news and some rather wonderful news.
First the bad news: I will not be coming home for Christmas. I am brokenhearted over that. I miss you and Mom and Dad terribly, and I have so many things to tell you all!
But now for the good news: I am being transferred to a new base. It’s a little speck on the map in Quebeccalled HMCS Saint-Hyacinthe. I am leaving first thing tomorrow morning, up before the sun. Why am I so excited? I am going to copy the exact words that they put in the letter I received just now so you’ll understand:
At HMCS Saint-Hyacinthe we focus our efforts on signalling, wireless telegraphy, radar operations, and coding…
You were right, Dash. This is where I belong. I will write more when I can, but for now I must get packed and ready to go. Since you will be speaking with our parents before I will, and because I am too short on time to write another letter, I am trusting you will share this news with them. Please tell Dad I cannot wait to tell him about the radios!
I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas. I miss you and I wish I could be there, but my heart is singing, just thinking about what I’ll soon be doing!
All my love, Dot
sixteenDASH— December 1942 —Toronto, Ontario
The dark sky held barely a suggestion of a sunrise when Dash and Ginny neared the garage. It was the first day of December, and winter had come in fast and hard. An inch of fresh snow already squeaked under their boots. The temperature in the garage wasn’t much warmer than it was outside, but at least they’d be out of the wind. Maybe Mr. Eisen would be forced to turn on the heater he swore so much about.
“Are you heading home for Christmas?” Dash asked. “I can’t wait to get home and wrap myself around the stove.”
“Sure,” Ginny replied noncommittally. “But my brothers won’t be there, so it’s gonna be subdued to say the least.”
“They’re in the navy, right? Pilots?” Dash made a little sound of frustration. “They’re so lucky.”
“I don’t know, Dash. I think you should be relieved they don’t let women fly.”
“American women get to fly, why shouldn’t we?”
“They’re not fighting.”
“No, but at least they’re flying.” Dash had pictured it so many times:roaring through the sky, chasing German planes. The best part would be when theLuftwaffepilots discovered they were getting shot down by a woman. “I would love to be over there, ending the war.”
Ginny chuckled. “Okay. Well, you can shoot down as many of them as you want, but in my opinion, knowledge is what will win this war.” She tapped her temple. “Intelligence and determination. Smart people like your sister.”
She pulled open the door to the garage, and Dash stomped snow off her boots before heading inside. As usual, they were the first two in.
“Here we go again,” Ginny said, taking her spot in the bay across from Dash. “Have a good one, Flying Ace.”
It was another long day. Vehicles came in without brakes, without working radiators, needing new spark plugs, any number of things. While some of the men paused for cigarettes or coffee, Dash didn’t take breaks. She could sense Jim watching her, making sure she was busy, and she didn’t want to get any adverse attention. She understood she was being punished for not going out with him, but that was all right. If working hard was her penance, Dash was happy to pay it.
At closing time, everyone rushed out, having heard there was another snowstorm coming. Dash stayed behind, adjusting the linkage on a Ford truck since Jim had specifically requested she finish it today, even if she went into overtime. She wished she’d left with Ginny, though. If she had, she’d be back at the house already, sipping on something hot instead of freezing her fingers off.
The garage was quiet now, except for the clunk of the pipes freezing in the raw chill and Dash’s own chattering teeth. When the Ford’s steering was finally done, she stuck her frozen hands into the armpits of her stained coveralls, trying to restore some kind of sensation.
“I’ll warm ’em for you.”
She tensed. “Jim. I thought you’d left already.”
He stepped out of the shadows, his boots scuffing the floor. “Just you and me, sweetheart.”
“Leave me alone, Jim.”
“Give a fella a chance, why don’t you?”
She stood her ground. “I have told you many times, I am not interested. Please believe me when I say that. I. Am. Not. Interested. Go away, Jim. Truck’s done. I’m tired. I’m going home.”
His eyes narrowed, and he took another step closer. Much too close. “Not quite yet.”
