Defiant Heart (33 page)

Again, Tommie nodded.

“What’s this?” Jon asked, pointing to a console below the propeller pitch controls.

“Autopilot.”

“Really?” Jon leaned down and studied the black face of the panel.

“You know,” Tommie said after a long moment, “you remind me of my brother. A lot. You even look like him.”

Jon sat back. “It must have been hard when he died.”

“It was,” Tommie said, nodding heavily. “For me, I lost my best friend. It was the worst thing that ever happened. But, for my pop.” He stopped and was quiet for a long time. Finally, he said, “It was devastating. That’s one of the reasons I’ve got to make it through my twenty-five. Of course,” he smiled, “I want to make it for myself. But,” and his face became serious again, “I also worry about my pop. I don’t think he could take losing both of his sons.”

The two of them were quiet for long time. Finally, Jon said, “You’ll make it Tommie.”

Tommie gave a half nod, half shrug. After a moment, he turned and punched Jon lightly on the shoulder. “You’re supposed to be back in Jackson taking care of my pop.”

Jon gave him a rueful look. “Something came up.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. You got a raw deal.”

They were both quiet for a moment. “Have you heard from your dad?” Jon asked.

Tommie nodded. “He writes about once a month. I try to keep pace. I’ve never been very good about that. I got a letter from him a couple weeks ago. He was getting ready to test the Cessna. How about you?”

Jon nodded. “He’s been writing regularly. I haven’t seen anything in a while, though. I think it’s going to take some time for the mail to catch up with me here.”

“Yep,” Tommie said. “It’ll take a while.”

#

Mary knocked lightly on the front door. After a moment, Marvella Wilson opened it. “Mary Dahlgren, come in out of the cold right now.”

Mrs. Wilson offered Mary a seat on the divan and sat on the chair opposite her. She arranged her shawl, sat up primly and gave Mary an attentive look.

Mary took a deep breath. “I’m not sure where to start.”

“Well, I’ve always found it best to start at the beginning. I’ve got plenty of time.”

After a moment, Mary began, “It all started a year and a half ago, when Jon arrived in Jackson.”

Mary told Mrs. Wilson how she and Jon had met, but had been kept apart by misunderstanding, explaining, but not dwelling on, her father’s role in it. She went on to tell Mrs. Wilson how she and Jon had finally begun seeing each other a year earlier and some of the things they’d done. She knew her face flushed a little, but she unabashedly explained how he made her feel and how extraordinary it was when they were together.

“You love him,” Mrs. Wilson observed.

Mary nodded emphatically. “Very much.”

Mrs. Wilson nodded.

It was hard for Mary when she got to the story about the incident at the Lodge. However, she told it as thoroughly and as accurately as she could, concluding with her suddenly waking up in the hospital with no recollection of what had happened.

She explained how the memory of Jon had come back, but how it had been isolated and devoid of recollection regarding anything else. She then posed one of the important questions she’d come to ask.

“Did my father visit you in October and ask you where Jon is?”

Mrs. Wilson shook her head. “No. I don’t remember the last time I spoke to your father, but I know it hasn’t been any time in the last several months.”

Mary nodded. She had pretty much assumed that to be the case, but she’d wanted confirmation.

She told Mrs. Wilson that her memory had finally returned three weeks earlier, but, at the suggestion of Mr. Anderson, she’d kept it under wraps until Vernon King and Jeff Fletcher could be confronted. She concluded with the events of the evening before and the arrest of the two boys who had attacked her.

“Well,” said Mrs. Wilson, “I am very pleased to hear that those two have been apprehended. And I am so sorry for the difficulties you’ve had to go through.”

Mary gave a nod of appreciation. Now, it was time for her to ask the most important question. “Mrs. Wilson, do you know what has happened to Jon?”

When Mary had finally regained her memory and driven to Ben’s place, Ben had explained to her that Jon had been undergoing training and was expecting to be assigned to a unit in England. But, he’d explained, he did not know exactly where Jon would be going or, for that matter, exactly where he was now. Together, they had sat at Ben’s kitchen table and composed a letter. On their way to meet with Mr. Anderson, they’d posted it to the last address Ben had for Jon. That had been three weeks ago, and there had been no response.

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Wilson said. “I’m afraid Jon has been sent to England. He’s going to be flying in a B-17. I’m,” she hesitated, then continued, “worried about him.”

Mary nodded. It was consistent with what Ben had already told her. “Have you received any letters from him?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Wilson said, immediately. She stood and walked to the fireplace. She retrieved a box from the mantle and handed it to Mary. The box was finely constructed of dark wood. On the lid, the initials “MW” had been carved and inlaid with a contrasting light material.

“My Ernest made that for me years ago,” Mrs. Wilson explained, “to hold important things.”

“May I?” Mary asked, and Mrs. Wilson nodded.

Mary opened the box. Inside was a stack of envelopes. She reached in and lifted them out. She recognized Jon’s handwriting.

“Would you like to read them?” Mrs. Wilson asked.

“If it’s ok with you, I’d like that very much.”

“Of course, dear. Why don’t you take your time. I’ll make us some tea.”

Mrs. Wilson returned with a tea set on a tray just as Mary was finishing the last of the letters. Mrs. Wilson was very discrete, and she said nothing about Mary’s tear-stained face.

As Mary was buttoning her coat to leave, Mrs. Wilson excused herself for a moment, then returned with a bright blue scarf in her hands. She reached up and wrapped it around Mary’s neck. “This is Jon’s. It’ll help keep you warm.”

“Thank you,” Mary said, her hands running softly over the material. She hesitated, then asked, “Do you mind if I give you a hug?”

Mrs. Wilson shook her head. “No dear, not at all.”

They embraced, and Mrs. Wilson gave her a squeeze. “Don’t you worry. He’ll come back.”

#

When she got home, the house was empty. Mary slowly climbed the stairs and walked to her room. She opened the desk drawer and retrieved the envelope. It was the same envelope Ben had given her three weeks earlier.

She paused a moment before pulling out the single page. It was worn now, the edges showing the results of being handled multiple times each day over the past three weeks. She’d read the thing so many times, she’d memorized it. Still, when she took it out of the envelope, it gave her the same thrill it had when she’d sat at the table in Ben’s kitchen and seen it for the first time.

“Dear Mary,” it began, “I have heard the wonderful news that you are home. I am so happy and grateful. You cannot imagine. Believe me when I say that you have been in my thoughts every moment. Now, there is something very important I have to say. I’ve known it for a long time. But, I didn’t know the right way to say it, so I never did. Not out loud. Then I thought I might never be able to say it to you, and I felt so lost. I cannot let another moment go by. I love you. I love you with all my heart. I cannot imagine life without you. It is the thought of you that keeps me going. I pray you feel the same and that we will be together again soon. Please know that I will do everything I can to find my way back to you. Love, Jon.”

Mary laid the letter on her chest next to her heart, closed her eyes, and said a prayer for Jon.

14

As quickly as the winter storm that had suspended flight operations at Stanbridge rolled in, it moved out, and, that evening, the entire base was placed on alert. There would be a mission the next day, and the Deuces Wild and the Silver Bullet would participate. The guys in Hut 51 turned in early. They would all need to be up at 4:00 the next morning.

Jon had a difficult time falling asleep. At once excited and nervous, he wondered how he would perform under pressure. People would be trying to kill him, and there was a chance he wouldn’t return. And, yet, strangely, the only fear he felt was a fear of letting down his crewmates. It seemed as though he had just nodded off when the lights in the hut came on, and it was time to get up.

After breakfast, Jon accompanied the officers of the Deuces Wild to the primary briefing. As the radio operator, he was the lone enlisted man expected to sit through the session during which the plans for the mission were revealed.

Jon had met the officers the previous afternoon. Gooch had taken him over to Hut 34 and introduced him to Bob Roth, the pilot and commander of the Deuces Wild. Gooch had explained on the walk over that Roth was a no-nonsense kind of guy. Before the war, he’d been studying to be an accountant. Gooch reported that Roth was a good pilot and well-respected, not just by his own crew, but by the other pilots in the squadron. Roth, in turn, had introduced Jon to Phil Murphy, the co-pilot, Vince Ambrose, the bombardier, and Jonas Kovalesky, the navigator. They’d seemed like a decent bunch.

At the briefing, Jon learned that the target would be the Lille Fives Company Locomotive Works in the City of Lille, which was located in northern France, near the border with Belgium. The planes would be carrying 1,000-pound bombs and would drop them from an altitude of 23,000 feet. The Deuces Wild would be in the second flight of the lead section. It would be a good place if they were attacked by enemy fighters, as it was well tucked in to the formation. The spot would be irrelevant when it came to anti-aircraft fire.

While the officers attended their supplemental briefings, Jon filled in the enlisted men.

“Lil,” said Gooch, using the phonetic pronunciation. “I dated a gal named Lil once.”

“Yeah?” asked Shim, “Did you drop any ordinance on her?”

Gooch wagged a finger and arched an eyebrow. “A gentleman never tells.”

When the officers joined them, all ten crew members climbed onto the jeep that had been assigned to them, some seated on the hood and others standing on the running boards. Perhaps reflecting the natural order of things, Roth got behind the wheel. It took the overloaded jeep about three minutes to drive out to their plane.

The inspiration for the name the crew had given the bomber had come from the aircraft number, which ended in 222. A hand of three playing cards, the two of hearts, the two of clubs and the two of diamonds, had been painted on either side of the fuselage near the cockpit, and the words “Deuces Wild” were printed below.

When they reached the plane, the crew scrambled off the jeep. The men split into two groups, half of them climbing up through the forward hatch, while Jon accompanied Gooch, Rogers, Graham and Shim around to the rear hatch. He tossed in his parachute pack, hefted himself up, and made his way forward to the radio compartment. He first checked his equipment. Then, from the canvas bag he’d slung over his shoulder, he retrieved his log book and set it on the small desk. Satisfied that all was in order, he hunkered down and waited.

Jon had been told that it was not uncommon for the crews to have to wait as long as a couple of hours for the go-ahead to start engines. Frequently, weather over the target would be bad, and they’d need to delay their departure. A number of missions for which the Deuces Wild had been scheduled in the past had ultimately been scrubbed, so there was always some uncertainty as to whether they’d actually take off.

It was cold inside the plane, though nothing like it would be at 23,000 feet. Jon, however, was relatively comfortable. He was dressed in a pair of long underwear. Officially known as the F-1 heated suit, the fellows called it the “blue bunny” because of its incongruous blue color. At altitude, Jon would plug the suit in for added warmth. Over the F-1, he wore a pair of fleece-lined leather pants and his leather B-3 jacket.

From his spot in the radio compartment, Jon could look back through the plane and see the others seated, with their knees up. They were close together, yet alone with their thoughts. If they took off, Shim and Graham would take their positions after they were airborne. There was the pungent smell of cordite in the air from the past firing of guns. It was oddly quiet.

They didn’t have to wait long this morning. Jon heard the sound of an approaching jeep and something was shouted. After a moment, there was a whirring sound, then a cough, and the first of the four Wright 1,000-horsepower engines roared to life. One by one, the other three followed suit.

After the engines settled into rhythm, there was a slight lurch, and the plane began to roll. Through a window in the radio compartment, Jon could see several other 96th Group planes with their propellers turning. He tried to pick out the Widowmaker, but he couldn’t distinguish it from the others.

It took several minutes for the Deuces Wild to wend its way along the series of taxiways to the end of the runway. When it was their turn, Roth guided the plane out onto the runway, where he set the brakes and ran up the engines for one last test. Then the brakes were off, and the plane began moving again, quickly picking up speed. There were loud creaking sounds as the craft hurtled down the runway, bumping and grinding along the slightly uneven surface. Then, suddenly, the bumping stopped, and they were airborne.

At 10,000 feet, Roth ordered them all to hook up to oxygen and report in. Jon adjusted his mask, confirmed that the hose was connected to the supply, and checked in using his throat mike. “Radio operator. Roger.”

It took about half an hour for the planes of the 96th Group to reach the designated altitude of 23,000 feet. They rendezvoused with the planes of 302nd Group, which had taken off from their base at Dunston Heath. The 302nd planes would be flying above them, and just to the right. Below them to the left would be planes from the 90th Bomb Group. In all, there were close to sixty aircraft in their formation. It was a clear day, so it made the assembly relatively easy.