“What’s the lowest altitude that is safe enough for you to open your chute?”
“Twenty-five hundred feet.”
“Excellent work, Wilson. Back in line. Do it again.”
As they moved into the final month of training, the instructors started talking about the various airplanes the women would be flying. Finally,Lister led them onto the tarmac and to a Gypsy Moth, which was practically identical to a Tiger Moth.
“Here is your first ATA transport. We begin flying today.”
Dash bit her tongue to keep from cheering.
“We’re flying that?” one girl asked. She wrinkled her nose. “Open cockpits are so dreadfully cold.”
Dash didn’t mind the Gypsy Moth. Thanks to Uncle Bob, she already knew the basic maneuvers. As soon as it was her turn, she did all the checks then took off, flew over the airfield, shut off her engine in midair to demonstrate dead-stick landings, then made a perfect landing. Lister noticed her skill and moved her ahead to the next leg of the training: thirty solo cross-country flights following specific routes of railway lines, rivers, and Roman roads. The point was to get the overall aerial picture of England, since she would eventually fly without the guidance of radios or maps. If an airfield was nowhere in sight, she would have to judge the direction and wind speed by watching smoke rise from chimneys, then she’d follow rail lines to fields where she could find a safe place to land.
When Dash graduated from biplanes to monoplanes, she felt a spring come back to her step. What a thrill to be behind the controls of a big, bold engine again, and feel the power and the speed. She was pleasantly aware of the other girls and Lister watching her zipping confidently past them in a Hurricane, and she wondered if she might have been one of the mechanics who had built this beauty.
At last, training came to an end. On the morning of Dash’s graduation ceremony, she let Stella make a fuss over her.
“You have to wear the wedge cap off to the side, like this,” she said, making sure Dash’s navy uniform was spotless. “It looks more plucky.”
Later that day, under Miss Tallis’s guidance, the girls were sent by train then bus to White Waltham Airfield, the Air Transport Auxiliary’s headquarters. It was a beautiful journey through rolling land and summer forests, and Dash enjoyed seeing it from the ground for a change.Dot would love this, she thought, surprising herself. She hadn’t thought about her sister much during her training, which was odd, she realized. Beforeall this, the sisters couldn’t have imagined life apart. Now Dash had trouble remembering the last time they’d corresponded.
For a while after the funeral, Dot had written, but Dash had never responded. After that, the letters stopped. That had made their division feel final. Sometimes Dash missed her sister so much she almost forgot why she wasn’t talking to her, then it all came rushing back. Her father’s deathbed, and Dot’s inexplicable abandonment. How could she ever forget that?
A temporary stage and a couple dozen chairs had been set up on the lawn outside the headquarters building, and the graduating students, both male and female, milled around, chatting. Some of them had family living nearby, so they’d come to watch the ceremony. After a little while, Miss Tallis asked everyone to take their seats, then a man in a stiff navy uniform strode to the front.
“I am Captain Holbourne, one of the instructors here at White Waltham, and it is my privilege to make these presentations. Today, we celebrate the official moment when our pilots become certified members of the Air Transport Auxiliary. We’ve brought you here to receive your stripes, and to welcome you to a small luncheon in your honour.”
When it was Dash’s turn to be presented, Captain Holbourne shook her hand then placed the prized gold shoulder stripe in her palm. He moved to shake the next girl’s hand, and Dash returned to her seat. The stripe declared that Dash was qualified to fly with the ATA. Her next goal was the prized second stripe that would make her a first officer, which meant she could fly any kind of plane on the tarmac—and there were dozens to choose from.
In the beginning, Dash had been a bit intimidated by that idea. How could she possibly fly so many different planes? Stella had put her fears to rest by showing her the Ferry Pilots’ Notes, a pocket-sized notebook kept under each plane’s seat. Inside was the small, neat handwriting of dozens of women, each of them contributing their thoughts and advice for flying that particular plane. When Dash discovered that every aircraft had one of those notebooks, she was full speed ahead. For now, she was limited to specific types of airplanes, but that was all right. She would fly anything just to be a part of this. Tomorrow morning, after Dash picked up her chitand learned which plane she would be ferrying on her first official day as an ATA-girl, she’d be doing something she’d never thought possible.
After the ceremony, she glanced at the other girls, happily speaking around the luncheon table, and she was struck by a wave of melancholy. That annoyed her, because today was supposed to be a happy day. Tomorrow would be even happier. But not today. Dash walked toward a nearby tree, skimming her thumb over the gold material of the stripe, thinking. What she really wanted was to share this moment with her family. To burst into her childhood home and showbothparents the stripe. She wanted to rush to Uncle Bob’s and tell him all about her experience. She wanted to boast to Gus. And she wanted to share her joy with Dot. Instead, she was on her own.
“Hey, Dash.” She turned to see one of the girls approaching, a plate of sandwiches in her hand. “You should come over. There are chicken salad sandwiches. They’re delicious.”
Dash had seen the girl only a couple of times before, and while it was obvious she was from Australia, Dash couldn’t remember her name. She used to know everyone. She used to be the life of the party. What had changed?
“Thanks, but I’m not really hungry.”
She thought the other girl would leave, but instead she put the plate down and embraced Dash. “I know you miss your family. I do, too. We have to make do with each other for now. We’re our own family.”
“You’re right,” Dash said, hugging her back. “Thank you. Maybe I will come have something to eat.”
“You should. It’s much better than mess hall food.”
Dash pasted a smile on, and after a little while it came more naturally. But as the girls rode the train back to Hamble, Dash found herself sinking back into despondency. Despite everything, she wanted Dot beside her. She wanted to feel her sister’s love and pride. The irony was that Dash could fix all of it simply by forgiving Dot. If she did, her heart would lighten and everything would be all right between the sisters. But to do that, Dash would have to dig up a world of sadness and regret that she’d already buried. She wasn’t ready.
Maybe someday, she thought, gazing out the window. But not today.
forty-fiveDOT— March 1944 —Camp X
Dot perched on a stiff black chair outside Gerald’s office as two muted male voices droned on from the other side of the door, and she wondered vaguely what she was missing. She’d been waiting for ten minutes, and her knee bounced with impatience. She understood Gerald was busy with many operations, but having been at Camp X for almost a year, Dot was also handling multiple things. She couldn’t afford to be idle. The days were too short to waste sitting around.
“They’ll be done soon, I’m sure,” Frances said from her desk.
At last, the door opened, and Gerald emerged with an officer whose expression was tense. As he strode away, Gerald turned to Dot. Her boss looked tired, she thought, but not overly so. She supposed she wasn’t the only one who could do with a little more sleep.
