Wings of Survival

Prologue

Ohio

August 1928

I heard papa and uncle talking about Miss Amelia Airheart earlier today. They said she was gonna fly again. The grownups think I don’t hear what they say, but I do. My teacher talked about Amelia when we talked about flying in history. But where is she going? Maybe I will ask uncle Ted. He flies. Mama might know too, she knows everything.
Amelia Earhart. Mama said I had spelled it wrong when I asked. She told me that sometimes words sound different than they are spelled. So when I heard papa talking it sounded like he said the words air and heart, but he said them as one so I spelt it that way.
Anyway, back to Amelia. Mama says she is a pilot like uncle Ted, but it is hard for her because she is a girl. She says Amelia wants to fly over the Atlantic ocean by herself. I thought she just got back from a trip over the ocean. Why does she want to go again? It sounds scary. That would be neat if she could do it, but I think it would take a lot of money. Papa says everything takes money.
May 20, 1932
She actually did it. Amelia Earhart landed somewhere in Ireland earlier this evening. I am…what is that word mama used…I can’t spell it, so I will use something I can spell. Impressed. That is the word I will use, but not the one I wanted. But it is pretty neat that she made it all the way across the ocean. If she could do that, then I can do cool things too. Wonder if uncle Ted will teach me about flying. Flying seems pretty sweet.
* * *

That was interesting to read back through. I had no idea what I was talking about when I was twelve. But, I do know that Amelia Earhart is my hero. She showed me that I could do anything I wanted to do, if I reached for my dreams. I have believed that ever since. Even a year and a half ago, when Amelia Earhart just…vanished, I still believed that I could do anything I set my mind to.
Uncle Ted did start teaching me to fly. At first he would only let me ride in his plane while he piloted. Mama and papa weren’t too excited about the fact that their eleven year old daughter was up in planes in all her spare time, but I loved it. So did uncle Ted. I miss uncle Ted. He wasn’t able to see me off at the airport like mama and papa did, he was on a job. But soon I will be able to fly myself back and forth between New York and Ohio.
Maybe I should back up a bit. I may be a big shot in my flight instruction now, but it was hard to get here. Growing up in the depression wasn’t easy. Especially for a bright eyed little dreamer who wanted to be just like Amelia Earhart when she grew up. There wasn’t a lot of money; mostly just enough for the essentials. Most of the money I needed for flight instruction I had to earn, and carefully put it away in my shoebox safe. Sometimes I had to do some hard work. But I wanted to fly bad enough, and I kept remembering that I could live my dream, someday. That someday came soon after my childhood hero vanished off the radar, roughly 4 months later; just after my 18 birthday.
Uncle Ted allowed me to land his plane that day. When we stopped on the runway, I got out to help uncle push the plane out of the way. A lady looking to be in her late thirties or early forties came over to congratulate my uncle on the perfect landing.
“Thanks very much for your compliment, ma’am, but I am afraid I cannot accept it,” he said. “This landing was not my doing, but my niece’s.”
I looked up, startled. Though I knew he was proud of my flying, I had not expected him to bring me into the conversation at all. But immediately, this woman was staring at me as if she had never heard something so absurd. Uncomfortably, I shifted on my feet, embarrassed to look at her. For several seconds we stayed that way, her studying me, and me with a shyness I hadn’t known I was capable of.
“You executed that beautiful landing, doll?” she asked, as if in shock.
I finally found my voice again and mumbled an acknowledgement. Uncle looked at me like I was dinner, and I somehow managed to answer more confidently. “Yes, ma’am, I did. But it is my uncle’s plane.”
She disregarded the fact that it was my uncle’s plane and focused on me somewhat more intensely. “It was beautiful. How long have you been flying?”
“Technically I don’t fly. Sometimes uncle lets me fly with him, but I have never had lessons.”
“Never had lessons?” she asked me, not sure if she had heard me right.
“No ma’am, no lessons.”
“Well doll,” she said as she smiled warmly, “I am on my way to New York to help women get more opportunities to fly. How would you like to come and learn?”
It took a few seconds for her question to sink in. When I replayed it in my mind, my whole being felt as if it had come alive and I am positive I had an utterly silly grin on my face. The instantaneous joy was quickly replaced by sadness and longing. How could I leave home? I still had 6 months of school left, and barely had enough money to get me to Manhattan, which surely wouldn’t be enough to get me flying lessons. “Thank you, ma’am,” I said politely, “But I couldn’t. I am still in school, and I couldn’t possibly afford to pay you.”
My almost-flight-instructor thought for a moment. “We could figure something out, doll. When does school end for you?”
“I will graduate in six months, ma’am,” I replied.
“Six months? Perfect. In six months I will return to this airport to transport you to New York myself.”
“I am afraid I still couldn’t come. My funds would never be enough.”
“Doll,” she said again, “A natural pilot like yourself is a rare find. We will discuss pricing when the time comes that you have accepted my offer. I will return once you are finished with school.” She held out her hand and we shook on it, and then she was gone. All that was left was a card in my hand with the words ‘Mary Nicholson, section leader of the Ninety Nines.’
Those six months disappeared faster than I could think. I did every odd job I could find to gather more funds. This offer was just too good for me to pass up. When the time finally came and my parents took me to the airport, there she stood-a life size version of my dream-waiting to whisk me away and teach me everything else I needed to know about flying. Still wary of pricing, I approached cautiously.
“Still airborne, doll?” she asked with a warm smile.
“Yes ma’am, maybe more so than when you were last here.”
She laughed, a soft melodious sound, and patted my shoulder. “I believe it, doll,” she said. “I remember how I felt when I first learned to fly, and it was something like heaven.”
I nodded, to show I understood. As she stood aside, she pointed to the plane sitting in front of us. "What are you waiting for, doll? You going to hop in or what?” Mary Nicholson, my almost-flight-instructor was motioning for me to get in the pilot seat of her North American Mustang.
Despite all my protesting, somehow I still ended up in the cockpit of the plane, admiring all the controls and being taught about pre-flight checks. Uncle had always done those, he had never let me do the taking off. When I flew with uncle, he would not let me take the controls until we were already straight and steady, on course. All this information from the pretty lady next to me was crowding, trying to find space in my brain. Suddenly the cacophony in my head went silent. It was like everything had just clicked, and I knew exactly what I was supposed to do. So my first flying lesson was in the cockpit of a plane model I had only seen from afar.