Her last letter was to her parents. They’d be excited for her, but concerned, and they were probably right to be. They had accepted that Dash was a pilot, but becoming an actual part of the war would be beyond their imaginings. It was beyond Dash’s too, she thought, smiling from the inside out. Yes, she was scared, but she wasn’t truly afraid. She’d created this opportunity through her hard work and determination, and now it was time to test herself again. She took a deep breath, reminding herself of everything she’d already done, then she imagined everything ahead. Soon she would travel across the Atlantic and start over in a whole different world. What a ride that would be.
thirty-oneDOT— Camp X —
The grass squished under Dot’s shoes as she ran laps with the others, but she barely noticed. The Camp X trainees had settled into a daily morning routine of two hours of blackboard theory in the lecture hall followed by two hours of fitness. After lunch, they headed outside to work on explosives, the firing range, and survival techniques. When the others went to the parachute tower, that was Dot’s cue to disappear into Hydra, which she loved.
For now, she just had to keep moving, one foot in front of the other. To her surprise, Dot had actually started to enjoy running. After weeks of doing it every day, the exercise had become almost meditative. The more she ran, the more peaceful she felt, and when her anxieties eased, she thought more clearly. Today, as she followed Ruby, she let her mind wander to yesterday’s letter from Dash. She had a lot to think about.
It appeared Dot wasn’t the only one traveling from post to post. Dash was moving on as well, and in a very big way. She couldn’t help noticing that every time the sisters switched jobs, things became more interesting, but they also got more dangerous. Dash was about to sail to England and fulfill her dreams by flying airplanes in the war. Meanwhile, Dot was learning how to kill people with her bare hands.
“Pick it up, Ruby!” Mr. Turner yelled, and Dot pushed herself to stay on her friend’s tail.
Before heading out on her transatlantic sail, Dash would return to Oshawa, less than an hour from where Dot was presently sweating. It broke her heart that she wouldn’t be able to leave Camp X to see Dash, even for a few hours. Even if she could, she would have had to lie to her family about everything, so she supposed the silver lining was that she wouldn’t have to do that. But she wanted so badly to look Dash in the eye and tell her how thrilled she was for her—despite the fact that the very idea of Dash flying in a war zone terrified her. Dangerous or not, Dash was on her way to achieving her dreams. More than anything else, Dot wanted to hug her and wish her safe travels, safe flight, or whatever it was one said to a pilot in times of war.
She loved how full her sister’s letters were, speaking openly about her job at CanCar, her friends, and all the fun they had. Dot tried to see past her sister’s complaints that her own letters were boring, because there was nothing Dot could do about that. Dash had been sympathetic at first, encouraging Dot to seek a more stimulating post, but she had eventually given up and accepted that Dot was satisfied. If only she could tell Dash what was really going on. She knew her sister would be astonished, and in a good way.
As she began her last lap, Dot’s mind returned to the importance of today. Now that she and the others had finished their training, the instructors were following them around with clipboards, marking test scores. They’d all worked so hard, and with each day their confidence had grown.
Ruby could parachute without screaming.
Gordon could take down three men with his bare hands.
Dot could break a code and an attacker’s fingers in a minute flat. She’d mastered all the blackboard theory, including explosives. Anything about Morse code and codebreaking was simple, of course. She could keep up with Ruby on all the physical exercises, though she could never catch up to Gordon or the other men. She had learned basic hand-to-hand combat moves so that she could outmaneuver an attacker much larger thanshe was, bring him to his knees, and render him helpless. A most satisfying result, though she couldn’t see herself actually using it in real life.
The same went for the lessons she’d been taught on defying German interrogation.
“Camp X is conveniently located near Camp 30 in Bowmanville,” their instructor, Mr. Marsh, had told them when those classes began halfway through their training. “Many German POWs are being held there, including officers. The proximity gives us a unique advantage.”
He opened the door to a small room. Inside was a desk and two chairs, one behind and one in front. A stiff, older man sat behind the desk, eyeing Mr. Marsh but not speaking. A metal disk hung like an unlit lamp over the empty chair.
“Camp X,” Mr. Marsh continued, “is the only place in the world where we have ready access to German officers. This is Heinrich Huber, an English-speaking German naval officer. Nice to see you, Herr Huber.” He turned back to his students, who stared at the German with a kind of horrified fascination. “I had him summoned, and he arrived here within thirty minutes. Quite convenient.”
“Why would we want him here?” Ruby asked, echoing Dot’s thoughts.
“Fair question. This man, and others like him, are useful in our training. Many have been involved in German interrogations of Allied prisoners, so they are well versed in the techniques used. We extract their knowledge, and they teach us how to survive a German interrogation. Important knowledge, should any of you ever have the misfortune of being captured.” Mr. Marsh surveyed the ashen faces before him. “Now, who would like to volunteer? Gordon?”
Gordon dutifully entered the room, looking more than a little nervous. Mr. Marsh instructed him to sit up straight in the chair and stare down at the surface of the table. He then cuffed Gordon’s wrists behind him.
“The first exercise today is one where you will not move a muscle. Stay completely still. That is vital. Do not move your head, your hands, your feet, or anything else. Think of it as a game of sorts. The goal is thatno matter what our man here says or does, you will not move a muscle. Simple enough?”
With that, Mr. Marsh and the others left the room so they could observe through a window in the door. Dot squinted at Herr Huber’s mouth, trying to read his lips, but she could not make anything out. Gordon was glaring at the table, looking ready to burst.
“What you see here,” Mr. Marsh said, “is our friend Gordon believing this test will not be a problem for him. He is a serious, quiet student, and he is prepared to resist anything Herr Huber throws at him. But the fact is, he is not ready at all.”
The German said something, and Gordon lifted his head to glare at him. In that second, his entire body shook violently, and his eyes bulged.
Dot stared at Gordon in shock, paralyzed by what she’d just seen.
“What’s happening?” Ruby cried, her hands pressed against the window. “What did he do?”
“Gordon did not pay attention to the instructions,” Mr. Marsh explained calmly. “I imagine he wanted to stare down his interrogator, who continues to antagonize him, but when he lifted his head, he received an electrical shock from the charged plate above him. What did I tell him? That he was to remain completely still. What will he do after this?”
Gordon had returned to sitting straight and staring at the desk, unmoving, but his face was a sick grey colour, and rivulets of sweat trickled down his cheeks.
Mr. Marsh opened the door slightly. “Fragen Sie ihn nach seinem Bruder,” he said. Ask him about his brother.
Dot gasped, sickened by Mr. Marsh’s order. How dare he antagonize Gordon by introducing something so deeply hurtful?
“How could you?” she cried, but Mr. Marsh only smiled.
