Lady flyer, p.20
Lady Flyer, page 20
“Bob’s here,” Nancy said. “Tell us both what’s happening.”
“England is hurting for pilots and airplanes,” Betty said, “especially since the Blitz and the Battle of Britain.”
Nancy nodded, her chest growing tight. “Don’t tell me you and Cochran are heading over.”
“I’m not.” Betty paused. “But General Arnold suggested that Cochran ferry a bomber to England.”
Nancy looked at Bob and saw agreement there. “General Arnold won’t even let American female pilots create a Ferrying Program in our own country. Sounds like a publicity stunt.”
“I agree,” Betty said. “But Cochran won’t turn it down.”
“I don’t blame her.” Nancy glanced at Bob again. “I don’t think I would either. I’d just need to check out on a twin-engine bomber.”
Betty gave a soft laugh. “If that’s what Cochran is planning on doing, then other pilots can’t protest. What does Bob think?”
“He can tell you himself.” Nancy handed him the phone.
They talked for a few minutes, and Bob predicted that Cochran would get plenty of pushback from other male pilots, but as long as General Arnold gave the all clear, the transatlantic trip would happen.
It turned out that Bob was right.
Over the next several months, Congress debated over Roosevelt’s Lend-Lease Program, and it was finally approved in March 1941, which enabled the US government to sell military supplies to Britain and France without actually entering the war. In June, the Soviet Union broke its neutrality stance toward the war and allied with Britain against Nazi Germany. Changes around the world were coming fast, one of which happened on June 17 when Jackie Cochran took off from Gander, Newfoundland, ferrying a Lockheed Hudson.
Reports came back through Bob, and he informed Nancy. Cochran had flown the bomber for part of the transatlantic flight, but the male pilots, who weren’t supportive of her having only twenty-five hours flight time in the bomber, didn’t want her doing the takeoff or landing. They also didn’t want to be blamed for her demise if the Germans shot down the bomber.
No one was shot down, and word came through that Cochran met with Pauline Gower, commander of the ATA women pilots.
“Gower asked Cochran if she knew of any American women who might want to ferry for ATA in England,” Bob told Nancy, leaning against the office doorframe, dressed in his marine-blue military uniform. He wore his uniform most days, and while Nancy loved him in it, the sight also reminded her of how close the war seemed to be getting.
“What did Cochran say?”
“I don’t know what she told Gower, but I wondered if she’ll call you up.”
Nancy had thought of this, but she kept pushing it to the back of her mind. “Time will tell, but I still think I can do more good setting up a program in the US. And I think Colonel Olds is getting closer to working out things here at home.”
Three days later, the Army Air Corps was renamed the US Army Air Forces, and Olds was put in charge of setting up an official ferrying command.
“This is good news,” Nancy said, looking up from the newspaper. She and Bob were taking a rare lunch break in his office, eating some ham and cheese sandwiches she’d packed that morning. “Colonel Olds is over the Ferrying Program. Now it’s only a matter of time to implement female pilots.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he calls us today.”
Just then the phone rang, and Nancy laughed, but it was more of a nervous laugh. Being closer to the phone, she answered, “Inter City. Nancy Love speaking.”
“This is Harry Hopkins calling from the White House,” a man said through the phone. “Might I speak with Bob Love?”
Nancy’s throat went dry. “Yes, he’s right here.” She covered the receiver with her hand. “Harry Hopkins, calling from the White House.”
Bob reached for the phone. “This is Bob Love. How can I help you?”
Nancy wished she could hear the other end of the conversation, but the expression on her husband’s face told her all she needed to know. Their lives were changing.
When Bob hung up the phone, his eyes settled on Nancy. “I’ve been assigned as control officer at Houlton, Maine.”
She stared at her husband. Houlton was a border town to Canada, where they’d flown the sports planes.
“The recommendation came through Colonel Robert Olds,” Bob said, “and I’m to be part of the Lend-Lease airplane ferrying operation that will deliver planes across the Atlantic.”
“Are you ferrying across the ocean too?” It wasn’t lost on Nancy that her own husband might be flying combat if this war continued to escalate.
“I don’t think so,” he said. Their eyes held. “The conversation with Mr. Hopkins was rather short.”
A knock sounded on the partially open office door.
Bob and Nancy both looked over at the door. Colonel Olds stood there dressed in full uniform.
Nancy couldn’t have been more surprised. She straightened, and Bob crossed the room to shake his hand. Next, Olds vigorously shook Nancy’s hand, his dynamic personality and frankness as clear in person as they were over the phone.
Once everyone was settled in chairs, Olds’s gaze turned intense as he said to Nancy, “You’ve heard of Bob’s assignment by now?”
“Yes, of course. He just finished speaking with Mr. Hopkins.”
“Excellent.” Olds rapped the desk between them. “I have news that applies to you and a request that I think you’ll be happy with.”
Nancy’s heart was racing now, if it hadn’t been already. “Go ahead.”
“Jackie Cochran is drawing up an official proposal to have women pilots considered for ferrying planes, both basic and advanced trainers. These planes will be ferried from factories to the Air Corps stations, which will, as you know, free male pilots for combat duty.”
Nancy released a slow breath. “What is different about this proposal versus ours over a year ago?”
“A lot of things have changed in the war, as you know, but mostly, it’s because all the important players are now engaged.”
“Who?”
“Cochran reported on her England trip to Eleanor Roosevelt and the president, who then sent Cochran to the secretary of war.”
“Henry Stimson,” Nancy murmured.
“Correct.” Olds sat back and threaded his fingers together. “That instigated a meeting with Cochran, General Arnold, Robert Lovett, who is assistant secretary of war for air, and . . . myself.”
This was all good, all moving forward, so why did Nancy feel trepidation building inside?
“Cochran is sending out a survey to 150 female pilots to gauge interest and possible commitments.”
Nancy felt the pang of envy and glanced at Bob, who was intently listening to the exchange. Probably noticing the range of emotions moving across her face.
“That’s much farther than I’ve been allowed to go,” she said. “What’s she basing the 150 on?” She could probably guess, but she wanted details.
“Cochran said that according to her research, 154 women currently hold commercial licenses.”
She nodded. The numbers matched Nancy’s findings too.
“Cochran also reported that fifty women have more than 500 flying hours,” Olds continued, “and eighty-three have more than 200 hours.”
Nancy was aware of this as well. “And out of those, who knows who might agree to join a Ferrying Program. There are a lot of things to take into consideration.”
“Right.” Olds leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “But that’s why I’m here, in person, Nancy. Cochran is a dynamic woman, but I consider her only a tactical benefit to the program that you pitched earlier. Immediate action can be taken if we attach women pilots to my Ferrying Program. And I already know I can work with you since you’re a natural leader and great with people.”
Nancy’s neck flushed. “Well, thank you, sir.”
“It’s more than that,” Olds said. “Your personality is suited for gathering the right female pilots and getting them qualified for the program. You’re level-headed and think smart.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Nancy brushed past the compliments. It was no secret Olds was good with people. “Nothing’s been approved from what we’ve already submitted. How far is this proposal of Jackie Cochran’s going to go?”
“We’ll find out,” Olds said. “I want you to come to Washington, DC, to meet Cochran. She’ll be at my office part of the month, working on all the specifics of her proposal. Her research and surveys will be useful, yes, but you’re going to head up the women’s program under my umbrella.”
Nancy opened her mouth, then shut it. A glance at Bob told her he was supportive. “Does Jackie Cochran know this?” she asked.
“She will soon if she doesn’t already.” Olds paused, his eyes gleaming. “Nancy, will you come to Washington?”
Nancy didn’t need to dither over her decision. It had been made more than a year ago. “Yes, I’ll come.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“One of the two most important ladies who have so far come in contact with the Army, one is named Love and the other is named Hobby. That will show you how respectable the Army is.”
—Henry L. Stimson, US Secretary of War
July–August 1941—Washington, DC
“You can come in with me,” Nancy told Bob as they stopped in front of the building that housed Olds’s Washington, DC, office. “I’m sure Colonel Olds won’t mind.”
Bob stepped close and kissed her cheek, his clean soap scent washing over her despite the sweltering heat of the summer day. “I’m going to walk around the city, then I’ll come back and wait in the lobby.”
A couple of cars rumbled by, and a newspaper boy on the corner called out the day’s headlines of the Allied victory in the Battle of Palmyra in Syria.
Nancy set a hand on her hip. “You don’t want to be in the line of fire?”
Bob’s eyes filled with amusement. “Are you planning on there being a line of fire?”
She held back a smile. “I’m going in with an open mind.”
His brows quirked.
Her smile escaped. “It’s nothing but a brainstorming meeting,” she clarified. “I want to see what Cochran’s proposal is all about. I’m not too worried about there being surprises, though, since Colonel Olds assured me that our own plans will be moving forward soon. And neither of us has a problem with Cochran contributing.”
Bob nodded along, but she knew she wasn’t fooling her husband. She felt like a lasso had gathered every ounce of worry and cramped her stomach as she anticipated what Jackie Cochran wanted to say.
Nancy said goodbye to Bob, then headed to the elevator that would take her to Olds’s office. As she walked, she reveled in the cooler interior of the building and steeled her mind and thoughts for what lay ahead.
The elevator doors opened, and as Nancy walked to the office, she tried to ignore the exhaustion pressing on the edges of her mind since she’d slept only a handful of hours the night before in anticipation of this meeting.
Voices came from the other side of the office door, and she knocked without pausing to decipher who might be talking.
Olds himself opened the door, and Nancy shook his hand, his grip firm, as always.
“Come in, Mrs. Love,” Olds said. “You’re right on time. Miss Cochran has arrived as well, and we’re about to go over her relay map.”
Nancy had no idea what a relay map was, but she turned toward the woman on the other side of the desk, who was also standing.
Jackie Cochran was a striking woman, with dark-blonde hair and brown eyes. Her makeup was flawless, as if it had been applied by an expert. And Nancy supposed Cochran was an expert; she owned her own cosmetics line after all. Cochran wore a tailored dress and jacket that screamed expensive and probably was.
Cochran thrust out her hand. “Great to meet you.”
Although Cochran sounded friendly and upbeat, Nancy immediately felt that she was being scrutinized. She shook Cochran’s cool, papery hand and caught a scent of perfume—likely expensive. “Great to meet you too. I’ve been fascinated by the reports coming back on the female pilots ferrying for the ATA in England.”
Cochran’s smile became more genuine. “We have a lot of work to do in our country. Granted, we aren’t officially at war but close enough.”
“Agreed.” Nancy drew in a steadying breath. Her nervousness was beginning to fade, and that was a good thing. “Now, what’s a relay map?”
Cochran’s eyes glimmered. “It’s the framework of how the female pilots will be transporting bombers from factories to air bases across the country.”
Nancy scanned the routes as Cochran traced them with her finger.
“I’ve created a system of zones across the country,” Cochran continued. “Each pilot will ferry the plane from one zone to the next. She returns to her original base that night.”
Nancy frowned. “So the pilot will only travel a short distance in one day, then turn her plane over to another pilot to be flown to the next zone the next day?”
“Correct.”
Nancy glanced at Olds. Did he not see how cumbersome and needless this would be? “Why can’t the pilot take the plane all the way to the base where it should be delivered? She can deliver the plane, then return back to her base, or possibly ferry another plane on the way back. It would keep things more simple and straightforward instead of coordinating such an elaborate relay.”
It was Cochran’s turn to frown. “Not many women can fly long distances.”
Nancy straightened. Why was this coming from a female pilot, one who’d completed a transatlantic flight, no less? “Plenty of women pilots can fly across the country, no problem. They just need to transition to the bigger planes.”
Cochran laughed. Actually laughed.
“I know about your flight skills,” Cochran conceded. “Which is why I agreed to go over this with you. But not everyone is Nancy Harkness Love. Most of the women we’ll be recruiting have only flown small planes.”
Nancy folded her arms, trying not to take offense, but it was too late. She was also becoming annoyed with Cochran’s cloying perfume. They weren’t at a ladies’ luncheon. “It’s not much of a leap to check out on larger planes.”
“So, you’re suggesting that women be trained on piloting bombers?” Cochran shot back.
“Why not?”
“General Hap Arnold will never go for it.”
Nancy tensed her jaw. “You’ve flown a Lockheed Martin.”
Cochran’s shrug was dismissive. “There aren’t many Jackie Cochrans out there either.”
“Maybe not, but there’s Betty Gillies, Barbara Towne, Byrd Granger, Gertrude Meserve, Evelyn Sharp, Cornelia Fort, Teresa James—to name a few.”
Cochran’s brows popped up. “Would Betty do this?”
“Of course. I receive phone calls and letters regularly from women asking when they’ll be able to do some real work for the war effort. They want to use their skills and are willing to do even more training. They aren’t intimidated, Miss Cochran.”
Nancy didn’t mention that Betty had just found out her youngest daughter, Barbara, had leukemia. They were trying every treatment possible, but the girl was only four years old. Nancy didn’t know how Betty and Bud were making it through all this, but she could only hope and pray that the treatments would work for little Barbara.
Cochran drew in a breath, the brewing storm in her eyes evident. When she spoke again, her words were stiff. “You know how much red tape there is to get through. I’m looking toward the future in order to create a large women’s pilot organization that will be militarized. It will take time though. But the goal is to find ways to support the Air Corps until then.”
“Is one of those goals ferrying small sport planes between zones?” Nancy asked, her words spilling out. “We aren’t going to win any wars with sport planes. Bigger bombers are being built in droves, and new ones are being developed as we speak. If America joins the war, they’ll need all the male combat pilots they can get. The women need to be trained and ready to transport those planes, and the best way to do that is to start ferrying now and begin training on the bigger planes too.” Nancy drew in a breath. She was probably red in the face, but she didn’t care.
Cochran stared at her for a long moment, her artful makeup looking less lustrous and more comical now. “Are you against a women’s division in the Air Corps?”
It was like Cochran hadn’t heard a word she’d spoken. “Not at all,” Nancy said. “But as you said, the red tape might take years. We need to put women to work now as civilian pilots under the direction of Ferry Command.” She looked at Olds to verify that she wasn’t reading this entire situation wrong.
Olds dipped his chin, then cleared his throat. “I agree that we could use women pilots right away. As you said, Mrs. Love, preparing now will only benefit the future. In the meantime, Cochran can keep pushing her agenda through for a permanent women’s pilot organization.”
Cochran seemed mollified at this, but Nancy’s chest was still burning.
“What can we do to push through an action plan, Colonel Olds?” Nancy finally asked. “It won’t matter whether or not we agree to this relay map idea until we get approval for women to join the Ferrying Program in the first place.”
He braced his hands on the desk. “Right. What if we propose fifty women pilots on a ninety-day service test? We’d require that the pilots have at least 500 flying hours to be considered for the program.”
There would be a lot of details and commitments to organize, but if that proposal could be accepted, Nancy would happily iron out the logistics. “I like it,” she said. “Gets our foot in the door, slowly but surely.”
