Chapter Text
17th July, 1938 – Chester, Connecticut, USA
Clear blue sky loomed overhead, the endless expanse an invitation to spread your wings. Small motes of cloud scattered over the edge of the horizon, not daring to ruin the picturesque view in front of the pilot. Voices from the control tower and other pilots chattered away in her ear, banter exchanging between personnel on the ground and in the air. Her eyes fixed to the end of the runway, the engine to her Piper J-3 Cub purring away in idle, as she heard the go from control
“Noceda, you’re clear for take-off. Remember, nice and slow, like we practiced” came the voice in her ear. Her instructor, sat in the control tower, had been with her for the last 3 months as she progressed to getting her pilots licence. A fair man, he had encouraged her every step of the way, especially when some of the men cast disparaging remarks about women pilots. Today was the day, however, that she would walk away with full marks and finally get her wings.
Smiling to herself, Luz gave a quick “roger that” before she opened up the throttle. The gentle hum slowly rose in pitch until it was a shivering roar. The plane wanted to leave the ground, to be amongst the clouds and birds, but was being held back. Pulling a switch near her legs, Luz felt as the plane started to creep forward. The asphalt runway was much smoother than the rural airfields of her youth, so wasn’t banded around the cockpit as she slowly picked up speed.
The throttle gauge was showing roughly 60mph when she felt the tell-tale sensation of the tail starting to lift. The smile on her face only got wider as she felt the tail lift up slightly and, remembering her check-list, she slowly pulled back on the control column and felt as she gradually left the runway. Her speed continued to rise as the plane wobbled slightly in the crosswind, but she corrected it enough to continue without fault. At 1000 feet, she radioed down to her instructor.
“Gav, I’m at 2000 feet and holding steady at 85mph”. She said into her headset. She was instructed to circle for a few minutes. She took the time to look at the view around and before her: uninterrupted views all the way to Long Island, green fields of farming communities, and the large landing strip a short way to her side. Her instructions were relayed to her, which she diligently wrote down on her paper pad, and continued her flight.
She heard, over her own engine, the rumble of another aircraft nearby. Craning her head around to look, she saw her friend Augustus Porter flying a similar J-3. She wiggled her wings at him and he returned the gesture, causing Luz to smile. The pair had been almost inseparable since they started to train at the school together, being the only two people of colour at the school. A firm friendship was quickly established when they realised they were both “a bit odd”, as some people might put it. No one but them knew, and they hoped no one else ever would.
Gus stuck a thumbs up at her and he slowly ascended upwards, obscured by the wings of her own J-3. “Hot shot”, she thought as she grinned. She radioed to her instructor, Gavin, that she was about to start the rest of her flight test. Looking down at the list of instructions, she settled into the seat and began.
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“Well I have to say, Luz, that was some impressive flying for a beginner.” Gavin called, a beaming smile on his face as he strode over to the J-3. Luz was in the process of getting out of her J-3 when she looked round to see Gavins smiling face. It caught her so off guard that she almost fell out of the plane, trying not to yelp at the surprise.
“Jesus Gav, don’t scare me like that!” She said through the laughter. Picking herself up off the ground she walked over to the man. She inwardly laughed, relishing the fact she hadn’t told her instructor she’d been flying planes for her family for the last 5 years.
“Sooooo, have you got good news for me?” She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, looking at him expectantly. She resembled an eager dog waiting for a sugar lump. She could see from the look on his face that the news was indeed good.
“97/100. Top of the class, well done Luz!” he said, and she yelled in joy, danced around the plane. He just laughed, watching as she let out the pent up energy and anxiety.
“Really? Top of the class? Where did Gus end up?” She was surprised the kid hadn’t bested her.
“Gus... Augustus Porter? Let’s see.” he started looking through his papers, and let out an “Aha!” when he found what he was looking for. “Young man got 95. Don’t worry, you’re still top”.
Again, Luz let out a whoop of joy before calming herself down and shaking Gavins hand. She knew there was a lot of paperwork to complete before she got her actual licence, but she was positively beaming at the knowledge she could legally fly a plane now.
The day wore on and, around 3pm, she left the flight school of Chester for the last time, the smile showing no signs of faltering. She was looking forward to telling her Mami that evening.
Her thoughts started to wander when she was clapped on the back, violently brought back to the present.
“There she is, top of the class, Luz Noceda!” Said Gus jumping around to face her. “What happens now? What’re your plans with your new found aerial freedom?” Like Luz, he was also beaming.
She didn’t have to think about it much. “Easy, fighter pilot!” She said with confidence. The smile faltered, however, when Gus started laughing.
“Aww, c’mon Luz, we’ve talked about this. Even if you were related to the president, they wouldn’t let you.” She knew he meant it all in good faith, but it still stung.
“Like you’re going to have it any easier?” She said, a little too sharply. She winced as she heard the laughter stop. “I’m sorry Gus, you know I didn’t mean it. C’mon, let’s go into town and have a drink somewhere to celebrate. My treat?”
He seemed to think about it before the smile returned and he started to walk backwards to the car park. “Better make it somewhere nice!”
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January 11th, 1940 – Somewhere in the Atlantic ocean.
Luz had made little use of her pilots licence since she had passed with flying colours the year before. The male dominated field of commercial flight, though new and exciting, still help to the misogynistic views that continued to dictate the lives of women everywhere. To be perfectly honest, Luz was getting sick of so many refusal letters.
When Germany declared war on Poland, and the UK and France in turn declared war on the Nazis, it came as a shocking, but not surprising turn of events. Tensions had been rising for a while now, and news came of troops being mobilised from most European countries as Hitlers forces started their inexorable push across the west.
Gus, and their high-school bully Matholemew, had both volunteered themselves to fly for the RAF. They were immediately sent over, with hundreds of others, to take part in aerial defence of the UK. Their training would take place almost immediately when they made shore, Luz was told.
Luz had thought long and hard about what to do. She knew she couldn’t fight, and knew that US Army and Air Forces wouldn’t even entertain the notion of her joining up. But a light had shown itself, a ray of hope for her dream of flight. Gavin, her old flight instructor, had sent her a letter saying that a well-known aviator, Jacqueline Cochran, was recruiting female pilots for the war effort in the UK. She seized the chance, knowing this might be her only chance to fly for a long while.
It was a few months before her application was accepted, and she found herself sailing across the Atlantic, travelling with about 20 other young pilots. She shared a cabin with 3 other girls, all eager to do their part. She didn’t know what to expect when she got there, or how long she would be away from home, but she was excited to take part in something as momentous as this. Laying her head back onto the pillow, she fell asleep dreaming of soaring through the clouds, finally free to fly.
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March 27th, 1939 – Cambridgeshire, England.
Amity Blight was top of her class. Her parents thought that, for a woman, she was incredibly gifted and would certainly go far if she “found the right calling” and put this flying nonsense behind her. “Everyone knows that women just don’t have the mentality to fly” She was told by her father when she had broached the subject 2 years back. She persisted, however, and explained to him how prestigious it would be if she were compared to the likes of Amelia Earhart. After months of begging and pleading, he finally relented and sent her to flight school.
Her parents had a career lined up for her, as well as a placement in Cambridge University, and the notion of their daughter flying, to them, was laughable. She had heard them say one evening that “once she sees the childishness of this, she’ll come back around to our way of thinking”. She knew from then that she had to see it through, if only to spite her parents.
So here she was, enjoying the view from her de Havilland Tiger Moth at 5000ft, looking forward to her parents surprise when she shows them her marks and new licence. She was even more excited to show her siblings.
They had been getting on reasonably well recently, ever since they paid for themselves and Amity to fly over Cambridge in a bi-plane a few years back. That was the moment Amity knew she wanted to fly. Seeing how small people and buildings looked, how exhilarating it was to have the wind flowing through your hair. It was a small travelling circus that offered the flights, and the pilot had flown for the RAF in The Great War. He knew a thing or two about flying, and surprised the young Amity when he plunged the plane into a dive, instructing her to “hold onto something”. She would never forget it as long as she lived.
After a text book landing and quick chat with the engineers, she made her way to the main hanger where the other students were loitering. The groups instructor, a tall, thin man, came and pinned the results to a board before walking to the back of the group, waiting. To no one’s surprise her marks were displayed at the top of the list, a satisfying 96% next to her name. The next person was a boy who Amity barely knew, but recognised from the endless boring parties her parents held. He scored a paltry 78%, and looked about ready to cry. Amity smiled inwardly as she walked to the instructors office to collect her paper work.
As Amity walked past, the man smiled curtly at her. “Fine flying as usual, Blight. You’re a credit to your family” was all he said before walking over to console some of the lower scoring students. She beamed as she made it to the main office where the receptionist told her to wait.
It wasn’t long before another tall, moustached man came walking to her with a brown envelope in his hands and a small smile on his lips. He shared the same sentiments of the first gentleman, shaking her hand, and walking back into the office building. The woman said well done to her too before continuing her own work. With nothing left to do, Amity left to go home where she would break the good news to her parents and, more importantly, siblings.
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“Well done, Amity dear. We expected nothing less of you” her mother cooed as she looked over her flight papers. “Top of the class, as always, just like a Blight should be”. Her father hummed in agreement, looking up momentarily to look at her. The words were praising, but Amity knew to expect some kind of backhanded compliment.
Let’s see how she turns this around this time, she thought bitterly. Since she could remember, her parents have had the nasty habit of belittling her achievements. She saw as her mother and father shared a look before going back to their newspapers. In the large sitting room, with its wood panelling and extensive bookcases, the silence was quite sniffling for Amity.
Something’s not right she thought, wondering why neither of them had continued with their usual barrage of insulting compliments. They must have picked up on her unease as her father cleared his throat, lowering his newspaper again.
“Is there anything else, Amity?” he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice. They made eye contact and, in his usually subtle way, motioned towards the door.
“Oh, no, sir.” With unease, she started to make her way out of the room. Looking back, she saw her mother was looking at her from the corner of her eye, a cruel smirk on her face. Feeling a chill down her spine, she knew that trouble was coming.
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February 23rd, 1940 – RAF Exeter, England.
The war in Europe had been raging for almost 7 months now, with no end in sight for the hostilities. The British Expeditionary Force of around 390,000 troops was making tracks and shoring up defences with the French, but hopes weren’t high for a successful operation.
Amity read the newspapers every morning with trepidation, frightened of what news was coming from the east. She knew it was only a matter of time before “Mr Hitler” came knocking on Britain’s door. She wanted to help, but wasn’t sure how.
Her friends, Boscha and Skara, had both signed up and sent to help at RAF Metheringham in Lincolnshire, helping to direct the efforts of Bomber Command, and had tried to get Amity to join them. Whilst their work was admirable, she felt her efforts could, and should, be directed elsewhere.
She was taking a stroll around Cambridge one evening with her siblings after a particularly gruelling dinner when they passed a recruiting stand for the war effort. The man who collared them had informed the trio that the ATA, or the Air Transport Auxiliary, were after pilots to fly war planes around the country. He was talking more to Edric, but Amitys eyes lit up immediately and asked the man for more information.
At first he thought she was joking, saying “don’t be silly love, women can’t fly planes. Not built for it! My aunt went up in a Tiger Moth once and fainted”. After she calmly, but angrily, told him she had a pilot’s licence and passed top of her class, he relented and gave her a form to move her along. She looked at her sibling excitedly, who only smiled back.
“If this is what you want, Mittens, we’ve got your back at home. Don’t worry about mom and dad.”
Edric and Emira had both signed up for medical duties, as their parents had forced them into careers focusing on that anyway. Apparently very talented with people, and the care of them, they both flourished in the roles of doctor and nurse.
It had been a month since she received her letter of acceptance into the ATA, much to her parents disappointment. They wanted Amity to work in some kind of intelligence role, which she had found surprising, but ended up relenting when she refused to change her mind. She was posted to RAF Exeter with a mixture of English and US girls, the latter having arrived in Bristol a week before. They all seemed charming enough and Amity was looking forward to working with them. The loudest of the group, a tanned girl called Luz, had introduced herself to Amity by buying her a drink at one of the local pubs, The Emperors Head.
A firm friendship was formed very quickly after Luz had managed to out drink a rather drunk airman trying to hit on her, with Amity behind her, quietly cheering her on. She was never the loud type, never too brash amongst the company of others. But something about Luz had drawn her out, if only by a tiny amount that evening. The night continued on much the same until kicking out time, where the girls of the ATA and airmen went back to base to continue the party.
Despite Luzs best efforts, however, the general consensus was that everyone should sleep; It wouldn’t do to be hungover on the first day on the job. Luz had persuaded Amity, however, to head round the back of the nissen huts and have a few more drinks before bed. Thinking nothing of it, Amity agreed and brought some glasses with her. There was only whisky left, and she wasn’t about to start drinking it from the bottle..
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“So tell me, Blight.” Luz said, lighting a cigarette with one hand and pouring out the whisky with the other. “What made you join up?” A glass was offered, and she gladly took it. “You seem to be one of the upper class, around here why would you throw your lot in with this rabble?” The question was genuine and polite. She took a sip of the drink before answering.
“I suppose, at first, it was purely because I want to fly. I got my licence about a year ago, top of my class, but I couldn’t really do anything with it. We don’t actually own a plane, and nowhere would hire a female pilot. I saw the job advertisement saying they were desperate for pilots, so I thought it was the perfect opportunity.” She motioned to Luzs cigarette case, who chuckled as she handed it over.
“I didn’t know you smoked?” She said with amusement.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Noceda” Amity shot back, a teasing tone in her voice. It caught Luz off guard, who choked on her cigarette smoke. “It wasn’t until I started seeing the war reports in the newspapers that Father reads, and I realised that things were getting pretty dire in Europe. I can’t fight, and I can’t fly over there to help in anyway, so this just seemed to be the best thing for it. Once I got my acceptance letter, I knew I’d made the right decision. My parents still aren’t happy about it though, but oh well.”
“Why would your parents not like you joining the ATA?” Luz seemed to sour at the mention of her parents disapproval.
“Goodness knows why, they aren’t the kindest people in the world to begin with. It honestly wouldn’t surprise me if they sympathised with Hitler at this point.” Amity said, smirking at the absurdness of the situation. She distinctly remembered her mothers glare as her father had tried to persuade her not to, as if they knew something she didn’t. It didn’t work though. If anything, it strengthened her resolve to stick with her decision.
“It doesn’t matter anyway Luz, I’m here now, and they can’t make me come home. They’d lose too much face with the other families in the area if they made me leave now.” She laughed again, downing her glass of whisky.
“Anyway, here’s to friendship and peace in our time” She nearly shouted, pouring herself another glass and raising it towards Luz. It took both her and Luz by surprise, her enthusiasm, but they both just laughed and clinked their glasses.
“To friendship, and peace in our time”, echoed Luz. Amity saw that Luz was looking at her differently than before. There was a glint in her eyes that Amity didn’t recognise. Is something on my face? She thought, looking into her empty glass. It was a look she had only every seen before on other people, but it was so surprising to see it on Luz that she didn’t recognise it.
It’s true that there was a lot Luz didn’t know about Amity, and maybe in time she would tell her some of those things. But there were somethings that must stay hidden, away from prying eyes and those who won’t understand. Coughing as she finished off her drink, she stood up and looked down at Luz.
“I think we should head back now. It’s…” She brought her watch up to her face, a little too close, and read the time, “It’s 1:30am, and we have a 7am start. Come on, lets head back in.” She weighed her next action carefully, despite her obsessiveness for secrecy and privacy: She held out her hand to the American. Luz took the offered hand, holding tight as she pulled herself up from her seat on the oil drum.
“You’re right. Alcohol and early starts definitely don’t mix, especially in our line of work.” Her hand lingered for a few seconds before she let go. She looked around awkwardly. “Actually, you go ahead. I’m just gonna stay here for a bit, clear my head up.” She smiled at Amity but it wasn’t the smile from earlier, the smile that spoke of a thousand happy memories and positives. It was forced.
Nodding, Amity gave a small “okay” and started to walk back to their nissen hut. She looked over her shoulder just before she rounded the corner, and saw that Luz was staring straight at her. Amitys stomach flipped when she saw the intense gaze, and hurried around the corner.
She didn’t know it then but this was to be the first of many stolen glances, and it wasn’t going to be the last.