MACHT BRITISCHE VIERTE ARMEE AUFSTELLUNG
Power British Fourth Army muster, then Edinburgh’s coordinates. The response was quicker this time.
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EINGEGANGEN
Received. From that moment on, she wrote down every action she could track over the next two hours based on her counterfeit warning, then she knocked on Gerald’s door. He looked up expectantly.
“Well?”
“They bought it.”
forty-eightDASH— Berkshire, England —
Dash headed quickly toward her very first Spitfire, anticipation building. When she was done with her first check, she climbed into the cockpit and reached under the seat for the pilots’ notes. She scanned them—saw nothing of concern—then began her preliminary check, her body comfortably snug.
Undercarriage lever set to “down”; indicator shows “down”; green light on light indicator; flaps lever set to “up”; thirty-seven gallons of fuel in the lower tank…
With the throttle lever opened to half an inch, Dash primed the ki-glass a few times to pressurize the fuel pumps. She switched on the ignition, lifted the flaps, and pressed the starter and booster buttons; the Spitfire purred to life. The plane’s power vibrated through her chest.
“Clear!” she called to the ground crew, then she taxied down the runway, idling briefly at the end while she awaited her turn. Finally, the planes ahead were gone, and the runway was clear.
The Spitfire seemed as impatient as Dash, and the noise of its engine built to an impatient roar. When at last she set it free, they tore down the runway, adrenaline pumping through Dash’s veins. She held her breath when the dial hit 3000 RPMs, anticipating the magical point of separationfrom earth to sky, then it happened, and her heart flipped in the most delicious way. Airborne at last, the Spitfire surged upward with effortless, breathtaking speed, hugging Dash tight against the back of the seat as they rose above the few low clouds. She banked right, and the plane’s smooth manoeuvre held her as close as a lover. She turned in the other direction, a little steeper this time, and the plane gave her a perfect circle. She wasn’t quite ready to try a victory roll, but someday she would, and she already knew it would take her breath away. Levelling out, she laughed aloud, thrilled to be sitting in this cockpit, doing what she loved most in the world.
The other women had been right. The Spitfire was the most beautiful plane she had ever flown.
It felt like no time had passed when she found herself soaring over the long, wide airfield at Christchurch, near the south edge of England. She aimed reluctantly at the runway and pulled the overhead canopy open, sorry the flight was already done. She could have flown this plane for hours and never gotten tired. Right on cue, the Spitfire’s landing gear rolled into place then she touched down with the smoothest of landings.
As she taxied in, Dash spotted a couple of men in RAF uniforms standing outside the main hangar. They looked up, hearing the Spitfire’s distinctive rumble, and she pulled to a stop in front of them. Still glowing from the flight, she unbuckled the harness, slipped off her helmet, then climbed out of the cockpit.
“Whoa!” one of the men cried, jogging over to lend a hand. He was a little taller than her, with short black hair and a well-fitting uniform. “I did not expect to seeyouclimb out of that aircraft.”
She set a hand on her hip. “What’s the matter? Never seen a woman pilot before?”
He gave her a crooked smile that cut a dimple in his right cheek. “I’ve seen a couple, but not one that looked like you.”
She laughed, letting him put his hands on her waist to help her off the wing. As soon as she had her feet on the ground, she looked up at him with a challenge.
“Now that we’ve danced, you owe me your name.”
“Master Corporal Pete Clark, at your service.”
“Petty Officer Wren and ATA First Officer Dash Wilson.”
“I must say, you are a breath of fresh air. How was the flight?”
His buddy laughed. “Let the lady catch her own breath, yeah? She’s barely out of the cockpit.”
Dash had said no to a lot of boys after Eisen’s garage. She’d left any connections at harmless flirting, but she liked the look of Pete, and she very much liked the twinkle she saw in his eye. Some of the girls talked about having “a man at every port,” and Dash didn’t even have one. Maybe she ought to think about trying a bit of that.
“Oh, it was fine, thanks.” How far did she dare push it? “I’m just hungry. It’s been a long day.”
“Awright then,” Pete’s friend said, slapping him on the shoulder. “Wife will be asking where I am, so I’m off. See you in a couple of weeks?”
“Sure,” Pete replied, his eyes glued to Dash.
“You got a wife waiting for you, too?”
