Undying

Before she could say anything else, I turned and walked slowly out in the direction of the road. I tried to make my saunter through the dusty parking-lot look casual. But it felt like I'd left half my soul back there in that booth.

*****

I heard a noise. It was 1AM and I was lying under a piece of canvas that was draped over the Jenny's right wing. I was still wide awake, unsuccessfully trying to convince myself that Anna was merely a passing fancy.

Pa was snoring like a buffalo. So, I knew it wasn't him. I grabbed my handy flashlight and baseball bat and rolled out from under the wing ready to give whoever it was a deluxe beating.

We had some maintenance to do and we didn't want to be disturbed by the hustle and bustle of the fair. So, we'd wheeled the Jenny over next to the tree line. Highway 101 runs past on the other side of the woods and whoever was creeping up on us had parked there, on the shoulder. That was suspicious.

The moonlight made him easy to track. I hid behind a tree, waiting to jump out and give him the scare of his life. Then, as the figure passed, I shined the light in his eyes and said in a warning tone, "Stop right where you are."

The figure gave a startled yelp and I dropped the flashlight. It was Anna!! We were both stunned. I walked two paces to her. She was hyperventilating. I said concerned, "What are you doing out here at this hour?" I know. It was an idiotic question. But she'd shocked me as much as I'd shaken her. She said plaintively, "Don't leave me." That was an even bigger shock.

I said earnestly, "I thought you'd promised yourself to O'Leary." She said bitterly, "Bill had no right to say those things. So, I told him to take a long walk on a short pier." Then she grinned impishly and added, "He's been a jerk since the day we met. He just wishes he'd gotten past first base with me. But we've been together in the same cockpit for the past month and he thinks he owns me."

I looked into her face in the silvery moonlight. Her gorgeous eyes were a cocktail of love and uncertainty. Then, she threw her arms around my neck, and raised her beautiful face for a steamy kiss. I kissed her back like we had been doing this for three or four millennia. I knew exactly how to hold her hard little body, her lips felt like coming home.

She was making needy moans as I lowered her onto the soft grass by the side of the path. I'd fucked women everywhere from haylofts to three thousand feet in the air. Some were quick fumbles. Some lasted days at a time. None of them came close to the bewildering sense of convergence that I felt as we began our dance of love.

It was partly the alien emotions. There were sentiments bouncing around in my skull that I'd never experienced; a feeling of empathy, compassion, tenderness, and a very profound perception of intimacy. I cared about this woman, how she felt, what she thought. Her happiness was my happiness. Then, there was the novelty of making love to a partner rather than simply getting my ashes hauled. We had a future. I could sense that.

We were both naked by that point. I'd started out in nothing but my long-johns anyhow, and my unlaced clodhoppers, which I had hastily donned while I was grabbing the flashlight. Anna frantically shed her clothing as she lay back in the high grass.

The body that the moonlight revealed was sensational. It was the perfect female paradox, small but powerful, soft and hard. Her waist was tiny, but her breasts were full and broad. Her hips were wide and fruitful, yet lithe and nubile. Her legs were long and superbly shaped. But she was only a couple of inches over five feet tall.

There was no doubt that I had worshiped this body in many settings. I knew exactly what to do. She gave a little gasp as I entered her. I remembered that she wasn't vocal during sex. But she was wildly passionate. Her hands slapped loudly on my back as she enfolded me with both her arms and her legs.

Then I made sweet love to her. She squeaked and yipped and moaned throughout the act; pounding back at me with the same ardent fervor. Her lovely face had an expression of blind ecstasy, eyes screwed shut, mouth wide open in an extreme "O", panting noisily.

Finally, the inevitable hit and we both experienced the age-old euphoria. But this time there was an entirely new dimension to it, and it was a lot more than simple biology. I wasn't getting my rocks off, like with all the farm girls. I was tying my past and future to another person.

Humans have no mating season. Sex is a natural selection imperative for us. It drives a male and a female to one purpose, offspring. And evolution provides ample incentive to mate frequently; in the form of an endorphin rush that is no less potent than a narcotic. Still, if propagation is the Darwinian purpose, then sex's indispensable social aim is to cement a family unit. That's why the right kind of sex creates a connection between two people; and it is that bond that separates love from fucking. Anybody who has ever experienced the difference understands what I'm talking about. It's the feeling of absolute connection. Whatever hurts them hurts you. You want to safeguard each other at all costs.

The odd part was that I didn't need to think about any of this. A those feelings were just there. I knew that my love for this woman was, and always had been, innate. I also had the profound sense that our connection extended centuries into the past and eternally into the future. I don't know why I was so convinced of that. It actually made no rational sense. But Anna and I were forever joined. She was staring at me with the same thoughtful look of recognition. I said awestruck and confused, "We've found each other." She nodded, tears in her eyes.

*****

Everything happened very quickly after that. Anna spent her days at Lockheed and Mr. O'Leary was nowhere to be seen. That was at her request. Lockheed was counting on a big British order. So, O'Leary's disappearance wasn't hard for them to arrange. Anna didn't need to demand that for my benefit. I trusted her. But she said that she wanted to have no uncertainty about her commitment to me, no matter how far apart we were. That pledge helped me get through her departure back to England.

We spent every day just enjoying our time together. We didn't do anything exciting or glamorous. Sometimes we'd drive down to the Santa Monica Pier, or the nearby beaches. She roomed with two women who worked at the Lockheed plant and I lived under a JN-4 wing. So, there wasn't a lot of privacy and there definitely weren't any long lingering weekends.

We didn't need it. One of the things about finding the right person is basking in the sheer joy of their companionship. We DID have lots of passionate moments in out of the way places. Topanga canyon will never be the same to me. But we had a mere two weeks to enjoy our togetherness before the telegram arrived. It reminded both of us that there was a war going on and Anna had a duty.

I saw her off at the Southern Pacific's Union Station. We both cried. I've always been a big happy-go-lucky galoot. So, perhaps you have some idea of how much that little display of unmanly emotion embarrassed me. She touched the window as the train began to pull out. I waved sadly. That might have been the end of our perfect romance. But we already had plans.

Anna was going back to England. But there was nothing stopping me from joining her except the government. America was trying to stay neutral. So, it was illegal for a U.S. citizen to enlist with a foreign power. Frankly though, who cares about silly details when the love of your life is over there? So, I answered an ad from an outfit that smuggled American flyers across the border to Canada. And it wasn't a week later that a fellow tracked me down at my permanent abode, which was a tent pitched next to the Jenny.

He was a swank dude named Sweeny and he offered to help me get into the Royal Air Force via something called the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan. He had all the documents that I'd need and travel money to get me to a place called Ottawa, in Canada. They'd evaluate me there and if I was good enough, the next stop would be England and Anna.

Pa and I talked it over. I could tell the idea of my going to war was killing him. But he'd gone the same route when America got involved in 1917. So, he understood better than most. He even accompanied me down to the Union Station via our normal mode of transport, which was our right thumb. As I boarded the train he said, "My time over there made me into a man. I suspect it'll do the same for you. Take care of yourself Tommy and be sure to write your old man once in a while."

Impossible!! It almost looked like a tear in his eye. He added, "Don't worry about me Tommy. I'm gonna get a job and live the life here." He always did his best. He was a good Pa.

The journey across America was no big deal. At least, it wasn't for a guy who had spent the past ten years flying over it. There were three other "volunteers" on the train. We played cards all the way to Ottawa. Red and Andy were flying buddies at Main Field in LA. They were both experienced pilots, like me, and eager to get in on the action. The third guy was maybe five feet tall. He was a pilot too, even if he had to sit on a phone book to do it. Naturally they called him, "Shorty."

We parted company almost immediately upon arrival. That's because the Canadians shanghaied me into being a flight instructor at Uplands Field. We didn't keep logs. But I probably had five, or six thousand hours in the air and if you can fly a Jenny you can fly anything. So, their Avros and Stearmans were no challenge. I hated not being able to transition on to Anna. But orders were orders and I was in the army now.

Getting raw recruits from places like Winnipeg and Calgary up to speed as pilots was another matter entirely. Still, my time at Uplands did give me an opportunity to get checked out on the Hurricane. That was my own special experience. The Jenny had a ninety-horsepower Hispano-Suiza engine and cruised at seventy-five miles an hour. The Hurricane had a twelve-hundred horsepower Rolls-Merlin and it cruised at over three-hundred. But the eight .303 machine guns were still its best feature. I spent every spare minute enjoying the freedom that little fighter gave me.

I missed Anna so much that my teeth hurt. And I worried about her all the time. She was flying strictly in Great Britain, not the skies of France. Still, there was a war going on and nobody was safe. We wrote each other constantly. But the mail was hit-and-miss. The Atlantic seemed to be full of something called a U-Boat. Anna sounded resolute. I'm sure I sounded frustrated. I might have been stuck in the frozen north for the duration. But that spring the Nazis helped me out by beating the shit out of the French. Suddenly, England stood alone, with Hitler licking his chops on the French side of the channel.

Air superiority was the only thing keeping his storm troopers off English shores and Britain needed every experienced pilot they could lay hands on. Better yet, by that point I was as capable with the Hurricane as anyone could be. So, they shipped me over with a priority tag. The trip from Halifax to Southampton was on the Grey Ghost. The Queen Mary traveled without escorts because she could outrun any trouble, including U-Boats. I arrived at Southampton docks on the last day of July 1940. Then I took a bus the twenty miles up to Middle Wallop and Number 238 Squadron.

The squadron had been equipped with Spitfires and it was just transitioning into Hurricanes. So, we had a little down time that weekend, while they sorted the whole thing out. The average pilot recruit had two-hundred flying hours total; and as little as eight weeks in an operational training unit. I had closer to eight thousand hours now. But of course, I'd been flying for a decade; even though I was only twenty-one years old at that point. And I'd managed to log a remarkable one hundred hours in the Hurricane, because I was so bored at Uplands.

The first thing I did was call Anna. She was sixty miles away at White Waltham in Maidenhead. The person who answered the phone had to chase her down. So, I hung on the line until I heard a puzzled tone say, "Hello." They must have told her a guy was calling for her. It was the first time I'd heard her voice in seven months. I swallowed the instant lump in my throat and said cheerily, "Hello my love. I was in the neighborhood. So, I thought I'd give you a ring." She shouted, "TOMMY!!!" Then she began to cry -- women!!

I told her that I had just gotten off the ship and I was at RAF Middle Wallop. I was dying to see her. We Yank volunteers had a long leash back then. It was early Friday and so I had appealed to my boss Squadron Leader Fenton for a weekend pass. I'd said pleading, "I haven't seen my girl in seven months Sir, and I'm fully checked out and ready." Fenton was a decent chap. He could see how much I needed this. But he said, "The Hun are gearing up for something big and we need you around. If your girl can make it down here, you can take the weekend in Southampton. That's all I can offer you."

I said glumly, "Yes Sir," saluted and walked out of his office. It was impossible. I called Anna and gave her the news. She took it inexplicably well. She said, "I'll be there as soon as I can, love." Thus, I was resting in a chair a couple hours later, depressed. I'd dragged it over by the tarmac, and just sat there in what the English laughingly call the summer sun, wondering how in the world Anna could make it down with all of the wartime limitations on travel.

That was when I heard an approaching Hurricane. The pilot was a hotshot. He came full throttle low over the control tower and snapped a climbing four-point aileron roll, finishing with a flourish; by hauling it into a full loop and landing directly off the return. It was a masterpiece of flying since the Hurricane engine tends to cut out when it's inverted. A couple of us ambled over to see who the pilot was. The Hurricane rolled to a stop and the rew went out to service it. The canopy pushed back, and the pilot emerged. He was incredibly small. He climbed down off the step, turned to face us with a jaunty smile and said, "I heard you chaps could use a new Hurri."

My heart nearly stopped. It was Anna!!! She removed her helmet revealing her thick mop of brown hair, tossed it to a crewman and rushed over to give me the sweetest, most passionate kiss imaginable. I heard choirs of angels as the universe realigned. We were together and it had all been worth it.

*****

We were lying in a soft warm bed at the Dolphin on Southampton harbor. The morning light through the big bay window lit up a devastated scene of passion. We had made love all night. It was like we were trying to make up for the lost seven months in one evening. Anna was sitting up against the pillows now, daintily sipping a morning cup of tea, while I leaned on one arm and watched her.

She was unselfconsciously naked and absolutely exquisite. Her smooth back with its satin skin was propped up on the same headboard that we had been lustfully banging against the wall for the past hour. Her full round breasts bobbled as she raised and lowered the cup. Their perfectly shaped brown nipples jogging up and down with the movement of her arm. Her thick mop of hair looked exactly as it did when it came out from under her leather flying helmet and her blue eyes sparkled with joi d'vivre. She looked as content as I felt.

Still, there was one pressing matter, and I had to get it out of the way today. I'd been saving my flight pay for this exact moment. I reached into my kit and pulled out a little black box. I said, trying to sound casual, "Well, we both have to be back at our posting by noon. But there's something I'd like to ask you first." She turned her head and looked at me, interested.

I said, "We're in the middle of a war and neither of us knows what's going to happen next. So, would you do me the great honor of marrying me this morning? I'm pretty sure we can hunt up a Vicar to provide the blessing?" It wasn't the usual bended knee. The pall of warfare makes everything serious and somber, even a proposal. But it was as heartfelt as any lifetime question can be. I thought she would whoop with joy. Instead she began to weep. I slithered back up the bed and pulled her head over on my shoulder, concerned.

She sniffled for a short while. Then I heard a little voice say, "Of course I'll marry you, goose. I'm crying because I want to be with you all the time and that's not possible." I got it. I felt the same way. I said; surprising even myself by my reasonable tone of voice, "This war isn't going to last forever. But my love for you will. So, let's go through the formalities. I want the whole world to know how I feel about you."

She squealed and threw her arms around my neck. Another hour passed before we wandered up St. James looking for a church. The first one we came to was Catholic. I supposed it was as good as any. Anna was a fairly regular church goer. But she was an Anglican and I'd never been in a church in my life. The priest was named Father Brown. He was a kindly old gentleman. Neither of us were Catholic. So, he would have had a perfect right to kick us out. But apparently, he'd served in the trenches in Flanders before he'd become a priest and he understood the vicissitudes of wartime.

He performed the ceremony in full vestments at the front of the empty church. When he said, "You may kiss the bride," we just stood there looking at each other like we'd heard those words in every setting from pagan rituals to Medieval high church. Then I kissed her, and it felt like the circle had once again been closed. We were together.

Anna had to have the Hurri back by noon Sunday. She had only "borrowed" it. Luckily, the OOD for that weekend was the American flyer, Jackie Cochran, and she had a heart of gold. So, Jackie detailed Anna down to Middle Wallop for a "test flight." Our parting was a lot less emotional than before. That was because we were only sixty miles apart and she had a little diamond ring on the third finger of her throttle hand. She took off, returned over the field with a six-point Victory roll and disappeared to the east. I watched her until the Hurri was an invisible speck in the sky.

I would have been devastated. But I had a lot of work to do that day. The squadron veterans took us new boys up for a lesson in formation flying. My "mentor" was a taciturn Welshman nicknamed Taffy. He didn't talk much but he could fly. He obviously didn't think much of me at first. That's because he kept bouncing me. I'll never forget the joyful shout in my headset, "Akkaaa, Akkaaa, Akkaaa, beware the Hun in the sun!!!" as he'd rocket past me, head on, perhaps three feet over my vertical stabilizer. He nearly made me wet myself the first couple of times he did that. But it familiarized me with the insane tempo and chaos of aerial combat.

We hadn't been at it more than a week when Herr Goering dialed up something called, "Adler Tag." I think that means, "Day of the Eagle." All I know is that a whole shit-load of Stukas, Heinkels and Ju 88s paid us a call that Tuesday. The Chain Home radar system picked them up as they assembled across the channel and the Dowding controllers at Uxbridge vectored us out to meet them. They knew it was big. So, we had been roused early and on the flight line as the sun came up.

We sat in our Hurricanes for a couple of hours while the Section Operations Room sorted things out. Then it was, "Start engines." The Coffman starter fired, and the prop began to turn. Alfie, my crew chief, slid the lid forward and I was alone in a very familiar yet alien world. I probably had as many hours in a Hurricane as the top guys in our Squadron. But I had never flown one into battle. We taxied out in two plane echelons, the lead and his wing. Taffy was group XO. So, we were second onto the runway. There wasn't any air traffic control rigamarole. The minute we lined up we were rolling, and we rose together headed for a vector of Ju88s. We'd formed up into a flight of four echelons, eight hurricanes altogether.