Wings. Part 24

"I wouldn't get my hopes up excessively, Major Galvin, but I thought you ought to know. We've just heard that they found her."

"Found who?" Nick looked confused. He'd been asleep after flying two night missions over Germany back to back, when they'd told him to see the commander.

"I believe the O'Malley woman is a friend of yours, isn't she?" Gossip was everywhere in the Army, all the way to the commander's office.

"Ca.s.sie?" Nick looked as though he'd gotten an electric shock as he realized what the commander was telling him. "Ca.s.sie's alive? They found her?"

'They found her. She's in critical condition on one of your warships in the Pacific. It sounds as though she might not make it, from what I've seen so far. But we'll keep you informed of any developments, if you like."

"I'd appreciate that, sir," Nick said, looking pale, as the commander watched him.

"You look like you need a break, Major. This might be the right time, depending on what happens."

"I wouldn't know what to do with it, sir," Nick said honestly. He was afraid to go home now. For him, there was nothing to go home to. Ca.s.sie would be with Desmond if she survived... and oh G.o.d, he hoped so... he would be willing to sacrifice his own life to make that happen. He would have been willing to do anything, if she just lived... even see her with Desmond Williams for the rest of her life. Anything was better than knowing she had died, or fearing it as he had for the past seven weeks. He had given up hope in the last month. It was just impossible that they'd still be alive somewhere in the Pacific. "Any word of her navigator?"

The commander nodded. They were all used to losing friends now, but this was a hard way to do it. "He didn't make it, they found him on the island with her. I'm afraid I don't know the details."

'Thank you, sir." Nick stood up to leave, looking exhausted but hopeful. "Will you let me know if you hear anything else?"

"As soon as we do, Major. We'll call you at once."

"Thank you, sir." They saluted each other, and Nick walked slowly back to his barracks, thinking of Ca.s.sie. All he could think of, as he had a thousand times since May, was the night they'd spent at the airstrip in the moonlight. If only he'd held onto her, if only he'd been able to keep her from going... if only she'd live... for the first time in twenty years, he found himself praying, as tears rolled down his cheeks, and he went back to his barracks.

20.

Three days after they had found Ca.s.sie in the cave, the Lexington Lexington steamed into Pearl Harbor. She had regained consciousness once, but lost it again. She was transferred to the naval hospital by ambulance. And when she got there, Desmond was waiting for her. He had flown over from steamed into Pearl Harbor. She had regained consciousness once, but lost it again. She was transferred to the naval hospital by ambulance. And when she got there, Desmond was waiting for her. He had flown over from L.A L.A, leaving Nancy Firestone to control the members of the press who were waiting for her arrival in LA.

The doctors gave Desmond a report when they first saw her, and Desmond then explained to the reporters what had happened. But they had still heard none of it from Ca.s.sie.

"Will she be all right?" they asked with tears in their eyes, and Desmond's tears matched theirs. He was obviously deeply moved by his wife's condition.

"We don't know yet."

A little while later, he went out to see what was left of the plane, which had come in on the Lexington Lexington too, and Desmond thanked the captain for bringing her home safely, as photographers snapped their picture. too, and Desmond thanked the captain for bringing her home safely, as photographers snapped their picture.

"I only wish we had found her sooner. She's a great gal. We're all rooting for her. You tell her that as soon as she can hear you."

"I will, sir," Desmond said, as they took another picture of him with the captain. Desmond went back to the hospital after that to wait for news and after another hour or two, they finally let him see her. She looked ravaged by everything she'd been through and she had IV tubes in both arms, one giving her medication and the other glucose. But she never stirred. And he never touched her. He simply stood staring at her, and the nurses couldn't tell what he was thinking.

Billy Nolan's body was sent back to San Francisco that day, on a flight Desmond had arranged. And funeral services were set for two days later. And in churches everywhere, people were praying for Ca.s.sie.

It was the fourth of December by then, and all over the country, people were talking about Christmas, but all the O'Malleys could think about was Ca.s.sie, comatose in Hawaii. They called Honolulu every morning and night for news of Ca.s.sie's condition. Pat wanted to fly them there, but his doctor didn't advise it. He was even thinking of calling that miserable husband of hers to lend him a plane, but he had heard he was already in Honolulu. Desmond was milking it for all the publicity he could get out of it. And on December 5, the doctor at the naval hospital called them again. Oona dreaded it now when the phone rang, and at the same time she longed for it. She was desperate for news of Ca.s.sie.

"Mrs. O'Malley?"

"Yes." She recognized instantly the scratchy connection of long distance. 'there's someone here who'd like to talk to you." She thought it was Desmond, and she didn't want to talk to him, but maybe he had news for them. And then she heard Ca.s.sie. Her voice was so weak she could hardly hear her, but it was her. Oona was crying so hard she couldn't even tell Pat what was happening.

"Mama?" Ca.s.sie said softly, and her mother nodded, and then forced herself to speak through her tears as Pat understood and began to cry too.

"Ca.s.sie?... oh, baby... oh, sweetheart... we love you so much... we were so worried about you..."

"I'm okay," she said, and ran out of steam almost immediately. The doctor took the phone from her hand, and the nurse explained that Miss O'Malley was very weak, but she was doing much better. And then Ca.s.sie insisted on having the phone back again so she could tell her mother she loved her."... and tell Daddy..." she whispered and he could hear her anyway, as Oona shared the receiver with Pat and he cried openly as he listened,"... I love him too..." She wanted to tell them about Billy, but she didn't have the strength, and the nurse took the phone away then. And a little while later they let her see Desmond. The nurse stayed in the room with them, as Ca.s.sie needed to be watched constantly. She was so weak that sometimes she even had trouble breathing.

Desmond stood beside her bed, and looked down at her unhappily. He didn't know what to say to her, except that he was glad she had survived. It was an awkward moment for them. Everything he should have felt or said was wrong because of their circ.u.mstances, but he was relieved that she was alive. And he couldn't help wondering if she'd been careless about the plane. Or had there been some fatal flaw they hadn't known about before she left? Eventually he would need to ask her, but this wasn't the moment.

"... I'm sorry... about the plane..." she said to him with effort, and he nodded.

"You'll do it again one day," he said confidently, but she shook her head. She hadn't even wanted to to do it this time in the end. She had done it for him, because she felt she had to. It had always been his idea, his dream, his project. And in the end, she felt she owed it to him. She would never do it again, not for him, not for anyone, and not without Billy. "What happened?" he asked as the nurse looked on disapprovingly. She needed rest desperately, and no one was supposed to upset her, least of all her husband. The nurse had noticed that he hadn't even kissed her. And as he stood there, talking to her, he never touched her or went near her. do it this time in the end. She had done it for him, because she felt she had to. It had always been his idea, his dream, his project. And in the end, she felt she owed it to him. She would never do it again, not for him, not for anyone, and not without Billy. "What happened?" he asked as the nurse looked on disapprovingly. She needed rest desperately, and no one was supposed to upset her, least of all her husband. The nurse had noticed that he hadn't even kissed her. And as he stood there, talking to her, he never touched her or went near her.

But Ca.s.sie was trying desperately to answer his question."... first smoke, then fire in the number-two engine..." she explained painfully,"... then... fire... in the number... one... too far from land... too much gas... brought it down where I could... tiny island... hit the beach... after we got out... tremendous explosion..."

He nodded, wishing he knew what had caused the fire in the number two. But she couldn't tell him. The nurse told him then that she had exerted herself enough, and had to rest. He could come back later. He was very correct with everyone, and very well bred and polite, but he was as cold as ice, and he had never said a single kind word to Ca.s.sie. It was hard to to believe he was her husband. Ca.s.sie wondered then as she watched him go, if it would have been easier for him if she had died. Now he'd have to face the world when she divorced him. believe he was her husband. Ca.s.sie wondered then as she watched him go, if it would have been easier for him if she had died. Now he'd have to face the world when she divorced him.

Ca.s.sie sat up in bed the next day, and called her parents again. She was still very weak, but she was feeling a lot better. She had contracted a tropical disease of some kind, but mostly she had suffered from dehydration, malnutrition, and exposure, and it would take time to get back to normal. She was so weak, she couldn't even sit up without a.s.sistance. That afternoon Desmond showed up with a few photographers, but the nurse refused to let him bring them in to Ca.s.sie. He threatened to report her to her superiors, and she said it made absolutely no difference to her. The doctor had said no visitors except immediate family, and that was all she would allow to see Mrs. Williams.

He was furious and he left almost immediately, and Ca.s.sie burst into laughter. 'thank you, Lieutenant Clarke. You stick to your guns."

"I don't think you want to see the press." Ca.s.sie still looked very thin and pale and very disheveled. They gave her a bath that afternoon, and she washed her hair, and she almost felt human again by that night. But fortunately, Desmond never came back to see her. He had been very proper with her, but it was obvious that his only interest in her recovery was what he could tell the papers. He had even told them about the lei the crew of the Lexington Lexington had left for her before setting sail that morning. Her survival had already been announced in newspapers around the world, and in Hornchurch, Nick had cried when his commander told him. had left for her before setting sail that morning. Her survival had already been announced in newspapers around the world, and in Hornchurch, Nick had cried when his commander told him.

On Sat.u.r.day, Desmond tried to get the press in to Ca.s.sie's room again, and once again, the indomitable Lieutenant Clarke managed to thwart him. It was becoming a game, and Ca.s.sie loved it.

"He seems awfully intent on letting the press in to see you," Lieutenant Clarke said cautiously, wondering what Ca.s.sie saw in him, but she didn't dare ask her. Other than his good looks and expensive clothes, he seemed to have a heart of stone. The only thing he warmed to was the press, and certainly not Ca.s.sie. But that wasn't news to Ca.s.sie. She was only amused that her nurse was so good at annoying him. She didn't want to see anyone yet. Except her parents. And they had decided to wait for her to come home, now that she was doing better.

Lieutenant Clarke walked her down the hall for the first time that afternoon, and the doctor said he thought Desmond could fly her home by the end of the week. She needed to build her strength up a little bit, and they wanted to be sure the fever didn't return. But so far it hadn't all day, and she felt a great deal better.

A few men recognized her in the hospital as she walked down the hall awkwardly, she was still so weak, and they shook her hand and congratulated her on her survival. She was a heroine just for being alive, and she wished more than ever that Billy was alive now. She had sent a telegram to his father in San Francisco, expressing her grief to him.

"We were all praying for you, Ca.s.sie," people told her in the halls, and she thanked them warmly. Letters and telegrams were pouring in too. President and Mrs. Roosevelt had even called her at the hospital. But it didn't seem fair to Ca.s.s that Billy hadn't made it, and she had. She felt terribly guilty and unhappy about it, and she cried whenever anyone mentioned him. She was still emotionally worn out by everything that had happened.

She was pensive as she sat in her room most of the time and the nurses didn't want to disturb her. They could see that she was still troubled, and exhausted by her ordeal. They knew only that her co-pilot had died, but they knew no other details. And Ca.s.sie wasn't talking about it to anyone. She did a lot of thinking, and some sleeping. And she found herself thinking of Nick, and wondering where he was. She had never had the opportunity to tell him how right he'd been about Desmond. But maybe it didn't matter anymore. They had their own lives to lead. He wanted his own life, and she needed time just to recover from all that had happened. But when she felt better she wanted to look up Jackie Cochran, and talk to her about the planes she had ferried to England.

Ca.s.sie called her parents again that night and she told them she'd be home soon, probably in another week, and she'd be home with them for Christmas. She had no reason to be in L.A. anymore, she didn't want to fly for Desmond, and she was sure he'd agree that she had fulfilled her contract to the best of her ability. It was all over.

Her parents told her on the phone that they had just gotten a telegram from Nick in England, telling them how thrilled he was that she had survived. But he had sent nothing to her, probably because of Desmond.

"Does it say when he's coming home?" she asked casually, and her father laughed.

"You're too sly for your own good, Ca.s.sie O'Malley."

"He's probably married by now anyway," she said lightly, but she hoped not.

"No sane woman would have him."

"I hope not." She laughed. She was in much better spirits. And after a brief chat, she went to bed early. She had no idea what Desmond was doing in Honolulu. He never even came to see her. She supposed he was wining and dining the press, lining up interviews for her when she felt better. But he was in for a shock. She was going to do one final press conference for him, to tell them all what they wanted to know. And then she was going home and folding up the road show. It had cost too much. Billy, and almost her own life. She didn't know what she wanted to do now. But whatever it was, it was going to be on a more human scale than what Desmond had pushed her to in the last year. She had made a lot of money, but she had lost a dear friend, and almost her own life. This time the risks had come at too high a price. And she needed time to recover.

Lieutenant Clarke came in at seven o'clock the next morning, and woke her up when she pulled back the curtains and raised the shades. It was a beautiful day, and Ca.s.sie was anxious to get up and walk around. She even wanted to shower and dress, but Lieutenant Clarke didn't want her to overdo it.

She had breakfast at seven-fifteen, poached eggs and three strips of bacon. It was a far cry from their island diet of bananas and berries. She never wanted to see either one again, for as long as she lived. And as she finished her breakfast, she glanced over the morning paper.

She saw quickly that Desmond had been at it again. He had granted an interview to the Honolulu Star Bulletin Honolulu Star Bulletin and told them all about her condition. He didn't say too much however about what had happened to her on the little island; she suspected that he didn't want to steal any thunder from a major press conference with her. He thought of everything. Except her well-being. It was all business and publicity, airplanes and profit. Nick couldn't have been more accurate in his perceptions and predictions. and told them all about her condition. He didn't say too much however about what had happened to her on the little island; she suspected that he didn't want to steal any thunder from a major press conference with her. He thought of everything. Except her well-being. It was all business and publicity, airplanes and profit. Nick couldn't have been more accurate in his perceptions and predictions.

She was still reading the paper when she heard the first plane overhead. She thought it was an exercise by the Navy pilots. The hospital was fairly close to the airfield. But then as she listened, she heard an explosion in the distance. And then more of them. Curious, she got up and walked to the window. And then she saw them, wave after wave of bombers. They were being attacked, she realized instantly, with astonishment. It was seven fifty-five on December 7.

The sky was black with planes and they seemed to drone on endlessly, as they flew over the harbor, and systematically bombed every ship they saw beneath them. They strafed the airport simultaneously, and destroyed whatever they found there.

Lieutenant Clarke came running in, and Ca.s.sie explained to her quickly what she was seeing. Without thinking, she ran to the closet, and found the clothes that Desmond had brought her. There wasn't much. But there was a skirt and a blouse and a pair of shoes, and she hurriedly took off her robe and nightgown and got dressed for the first time since she'd been there.

In the hospital, people were crowding into the hallways, and dashing around aimlessly. Nurses and orderlies were trying to keep patients calm, and almost instinctively Ca.s.sie joined them. They were under attack for an hour, and by then the Arizona Arizona was in flames, along with a number of smaller ships, and large parts of the harbor. Reports were coming in rapidly, many of them inaccurate. And the radio was explaining that they had been bombed by the j.a.panese, and it was only moments later when ambulances began bringing in the wounded. There were terrifying b.u.ms, and men covered in oil, others with head injuries, some with machine gun wounds, and many with traumatic shock. Nurses were running everywhere, and patients like Ca.s.sie were giving up their beds for the men who were being brought in from the harbor. was in flames, along with a number of smaller ships, and large parts of the harbor. Reports were coming in rapidly, many of them inaccurate. And the radio was explaining that they had been bombed by the j.a.panese, and it was only moments later when ambulances began bringing in the wounded. There were terrifying b.u.ms, and men covered in oil, others with head injuries, some with machine gun wounds, and many with traumatic shock. Nurses were running everywhere, and patients like Ca.s.sie were giving up their beds for the men who were being brought in from the harbor.

Ca.s.sie worked alongside Lieutenant Clarke tearing bandages, and clean pieces of doth. She helped to hold wounded men in her arms, lifting them onto beds. She did anything she could to help, but before they could deal with half of the wounded men, the j.a.panese attacked again. And this time they got the Nevada Nevada.

Suddenly there were thousands of men, injured and half dead, bleeding from everywhere, streaming into the hospital, or taken to the hospital ship Solace Solace.

Rebecca Clarice only looked up at her once with concern and admiration as Ca.s.sie worked tirelessly, helping the wounded. She was quite a girl. No wonder the country loved her.

"Are you all right?" the nurse asked her briskly, after Ca.s.sie had brought a particularly nasty b.u.m case into a treatment room. The man was screaming and there was flesh hanging everywhere, and even some left on Ca.s.sie.

"I'm fine," she said coolly. She remembered her brother and pulling him from the burning plane. She still had a scar on her arm from where the flames on his body had burned her. "Just tell me what to do."

"You're doing just what you need to," Lieutenant Clarke said firmly. "Don't stop unless you feel ill, and if you do, tell me."

"I won't," Ca.s.sie said, willing herself not to be sick as she helped the injured men, and a number of women. Civilians began coming into the hospital too. There were casualties everywhere, and after a while there was nowhere to put them. The second bombing lasted till just after ten o'clock, and then they were gone, leaving not only the island in shock, but the entire nation.

Ca.s.sie worked feverishly all afternoon, doing what she could, and she felt weak in the knees when she finally sat down at four o'clock. She hadn't stopped, and she hadn't eaten since breakfast. Lieutenant Clarke brought her a cup of tea, and together they checked the lobby for more injured. The last ones had been transferred to the Solace Solace just an hour before. The hospital simply couldn't hold another body. just an hour before. The hospital simply couldn't hold another body.

There was nothing left for her to do for the moment, except offer comfort where she could, and as she was doing that, Desmond arrived with a lone photographer beside him. All the others had gone to the harbor to see the damage there, but he had promised the young reporter a picture of Ca.s.sie O'Malley if he came with him. He strode across the lobby to her, as Lieutenant Clarke settled a young pregnant woman in a chair. She had come to inquire about her husband, and Lieutenant Clarke had just promised to find him.

'There she is"- Desmond pointed to her dramatically-" darling, are you all right?" he asked, looking at her tenderly, as the photographer snapped a picture of her in her skirt and blouse that were covered with other people's blood, and all she could do was look at Desmond in disgust, and the photographer along with him.

"Oh, for chrissake, Desmond," she railed at him in contempt, "stuff it. Why don't you go do something useful instead of showing off for the press all the time? And you," she wagged a finger at the camera, and the man behind it was too startled to say anything, "why don't you go help someone, instead of standing around taking pictures of me? We've been bombed, you idiot. Get off your lazy a.s.s, and drop your camera." And with that she wheeled out of the lobby with Lieutenant Clarke, and she left the two men with their mouths open behind her. She had won Rebecca Clarke's heart forever that day. She knew that as long as she lived, she would never forget the tireless redhead, helping wounded men, treating b.u.ms. She had given up her private room to four of them, and had wheeled the cots in herself and made them with whatever sheets she could find, or steal, from other beds if she had to.

The director of the hospital thanked her himself that afternoon. And they found her a folding cot that she set up in a closet to get some sleep. They had sicker people to take care of now, people who needed them more, and she felt guilty taking any of their attention. She stayed on to help the next day, and they were told, not surprisingly, that the President had declared war on j.a.pan on Monday. There was a cheer in the hospital when it was announced. And on Tuesday, she checked into the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, and called her parents. She had already called them once before to tell them she was all right, but now she wanted to let them know she was going to try and get home as soon as possible.

The hotel promised to try and get a cabin for her on the Mariposa Mariposa, which was leaving on Christmas Eve. It was the first ship she could get, and the only thing she wanted to be sure of was that Desmond wasn't on it.

She had no sympathy for him at all, she thought he had behaved abominably. The only thing he was interested in was milking her story one more time. It was disgusting.

He came to see her that afternoon, and told her that the Pentagon had promised him a seat on a military flight to San Francisco in a few days, and he could arrange one for her too, since she was practically a national hero now, but she was adamant that she didn't want to go anywhere with him.

"What difference does it make?" He looked annoyed at how difficult she was being. It would look a lot better to the press if they went home together, although he could still explain it if she didn't. He could even claim that she was suddenly nervous about flying, or blame it on her health. But she was not amenable to any of his excuses.

"I've got real bad news for you, Desmond. The whole world is not watching you, or me, they're thinking about the war we just got ourselves into, though you might not have noticed."

'Think of what you could do now for the war effort," he said hopefully, thinking of the publicity opportunities for him, and for his airplanes. But as far as she was concerned, she had just done it, for three days at the naval hospital, not that he understood that, although Admiral Kimmel had personally thanked her.

"I'll do exactly what I want to do," she said unpleasantly, "and you're not going to advertise, trade, announce, use, or exploit it. You got that? We're finished. I completed my contract."

"You most certainly did not," he said smoothly, and she stared at him in disbelief.

"Are you kidding? I almost killed myself for you."

"You did it for yourself, for your own glory," he corrected.

"I did it because I love flying and I felt I owed it to you. I thought doing the tour for you was the honorable thing to do. Not to mention the fact that you said you'd sue me if I didn't, and I figured my parents didn't need that headache."

"And do they now? What's changed?" Nick was right to the end. Desmond was vicious.

"I flew eleven thousand miles, I did my d.a.m.nedest, I went down with your G.o.dd.a.m.n lousy plane, and managed to live forty-five days on an island the size of a dinner plate, while starving to death, I might add. And I watched my best friend die in my arms. Isn't that enough? I'd say it is. And I'll bet a judge would."

"A contract is a contract," he said coolly. "And yours said you would fly fifteen thousand miles across the Pacific in my plane."

"Your plane went up like a matchbook."

"I have others. And your contract said you would do unlimited publicity and endors.e.m.e.nts."

"We're at war, Desmond. No one's interested. And whether they are or not, I'm not going to do it. Sue me."

"I might. Maybe you'll give it some thought on the way back."

"I wouldn't waste my time thinking about it. I'll call my lawyer when I get back... for a number of reasons," she said pointedly.

"We'll have to discuss that. By the way, you mentioned Billy in rather touching terms a little while ago... was that your best best friend, or your boyfriend. I'm not sure I understood you." friend, or your boyfriend. I'm not sure I understood you."

"You understood me perfectly, you sonofab.i.t.c.h. And if you're talking adultery, why don't you discuss it with Nancy Firestone. She's very clear about calling herself your mistress. I already mentioned that to my attorney."

For once, he blanched, and she was pleased to have gotten him upset for a change.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He was furious with Nancy for talking to Ca.s.sie.

"Just ask Nancy. I'm sure sh.e.l.l explain it to you. She was very direct with me."

His eyes told her he hated her, but she didn't care. She never wanted to see him again after Honolulu.

She spent the next two and a half weeks volunteering to help at the naval hospital again and on the hospital ship Solace Solace. It was devastating to see what had happened in the harbor. The Arizona Arizona, the Curtiss Curtiss, the West Virginia West Virginia, the Oklahoma Oklahoma, the Chew Chew, the Oglala Oglala had all been hit by the j.a.panese, 2,898 had been killed, and another 1,178 had been wounded. It was devastating, and now the country was at war. She wondered what it would mean to Nick, if he would stay in the RAF, or join the American armed forces. Everything was still very confusing. had all been hit by the j.a.panese, 2,898 had been killed, and another 1,178 had been wounded. It was devastating, and now the country was at war. She wondered what it would mean to Nick, if he would stay in the RAF, or join the American armed forces. Everything was still very confusing.

And when the Mariposa, Monterey Mariposa, Monterey, and the Lurline Lurline finally sailed on Christmas Eve, she was touched and surprised when Rebecca Clarke came to see her off, and thanked her for all her help since the bombing. Ca.s.sie had done nothing but work with the wounded since the j.a.panese had bombed Pearl Harbor. finally sailed on Christmas Eve, she was touched and surprised when Rebecca Clarke came to see her off, and thanked her for all her help since the bombing. Ca.s.sie had done nothing but work with the wounded since the j.a.panese had bombed Pearl Harbor.

"It was an honor to meet you," Rebecca Clarke said sincerely, "I hope you get home safely."

"So do I," Ca.s.sie said honestly. She was anxious to get back to Illinois to see her parents, and to see a lawyer and find out how she could best get out of all her obligations to Desmond.

She was relieved to see that no members of the press had come to see her off. But Desmond had left for San Francis...o...b.. military plane the week before, so they hadn't bothered. She was happy not to have flown with him even if this did take longer and was potentially more risky. They were traveling by convoy to ensure greater safety.