When Tides Turn Page 4
The officers nodded. Did she dare try for humor? She gave a slight smile. “And with so many friends in the Navy, do you see why I’d be in danger if I joined the Army?”
They chuckled. Lieutenant Reynolds turned a page in the folder. “You have a degree in business. Excellent. Why did you choose that field?”
Might as well be honest. “I wanted to go to college. Although my parents encouraged me, my boyfriend didn’t want me to leave. He planned to expand the family store into other towns, so we made a deal. He’d let me go to college if I studied business to help him. Well, he married someone else, but I ended up loving business. Every part of it—accounting, record keeping, merchandising, sales.”
“You have experience at two major department stores.” Lieutenant Reynolds asked a series of questions about her time at Marshall Field’s in Chicago and Filene’s in Boston. He seemed particularly interested in her work in bookkeeping and inventory.
She tried to stay serious, but her enthusiasm bubbled out.
Lieutenant Reynolds crossed his arms on the desk. “What is your secret to such high sales figures?”
Modesty was essential, so she squelched her pride. “It isn’t difficult. You spend time with the customer, listen to who she is and what she needs, then help her fill that need. I enjoy it.”
Lieutenant Pierce slid a typed list in front of Lieutenant Reynolds and tapped the middle of the page. Both men looked at Tess with assessing eyes and smiled.
What was on that piece of paper? It would be rude to peek, but oh, it was hard not to.
“Thank you for your time, Miss Beaumont. Please return to the waiting room.”
Back in the waiting room, Tess settled into a seat and smiled at the woman beside her. “If I’d known this would take all day, I would have packed a picnic.”
Older than Tess and wearing a dowdy gray suit, the woman gave a shy smile. “Indeed.”
Tess offered her hand. “I’m Tess Beaumont, business major, height five-foot-five, weight don’t ask.” She recited the list in her best impression of the procurement officers.
“I’m Nora Thurmond, electrical engineer.”
“Oh my.” She’d heard of women becoming engineers but had never met one.
Brown eyes flicked to the side. “Don’t be too impressed. The men I work with treat me like a laboratory assistant.”
“But in the WAVES . . .” Tess squeezed Nora’s forearm. “Why, they actually want women with technical training. What a great opportunity.”
Nora glanced at Tess’s hand, but she didn’t pull away. “I hope so.”
“Oh, how could they turn down someone like—”
“Will the following women please follow me?” A sailor read down a list of names, Tess’s near the top.
She stood, and her stomach flipped over. Were they being accepted or rejected?
They also called Nora Thurmond’s name, thank goodness. Surely, they wouldn’t reject a lady engineer.
“This way please.” The sailor marched down a hallway, and a dozen women followed, whispering to each other about what it meant.
“Have a seat.” The sailor pointed them to a long table, and another sailor passed out packets of papers.
Contracts. Tess grasped Nora’s hand. “We’re in. We made it.”
Nora read more carefully before she nodded. “We did.”
An officer talked them through the contract, the gravity of what they were agreeing to, terms of service, reasons for discharge, prohibitions against marriage during training and against marrying a Navy man at any time.
Tess smiled. A good rule. That would put any lingering thoughts of Dan Avery out of her head.
Then the officer explained that they’d be sent home and called up later to report to officer training school on October 6.
Tess signed her contract slowly, meaningfully, gratefully. She’d make the most of this opportunity and strive to become a woman who was good for more than decoration.
After they signed, the ladies were shown into another room with the American flag at center front. “Raise your right hand and repeat after me.”
Tess did so, emotion stirring inside. “I, Quintessa Beaumont, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.”
It was official. She belonged to the United States Navy for the duration of the war plus six months.
“What have I done?” Nora whispered.
Tess grinned at her. “You and I are about to have the adventure of our lives.”
6
Boston
Sunday, September 27, 1942
Dan gazed up at the red brick façade of Park Street Church and its tall white steeple. This was his kind of architecture—simple and strong, yet beautiful.
“What should we do this afternoon?” Tess asked the group.
Dan winced. He should have escaped as soon as he stepped outside after Sunday services.
“It’d be a lovely day to take a train to the country,” Mary Stirling said. “The trees are starting to turn.”
“Wouldn’t you rather wait until Jim comes back from sea?” Tess asked.
“You’ll be gone by then. I want to savor your last week in Boston.”
A trip to the country would take all day. Dan couldn’t afford that. “I’ll have to pass. I have a lot of work.”
Lillian held Arch’s hand and gave Dan a saucy smile. “It’s the Sabbath, a day of rest. Even the Lord God took a day off.”
“Remember, Lilliput . . .” He used the childhood nickname that put his kid sister in her place. “Jesus said, ‘The sabbath was made for man, and not man for the sabbath.’ And the Sabbath certainly wasn’t made for times of war.”
Lillian’s big eyes sparked with mischief. She’d call him Dan-druff, he knew it.
“Are you sure?” Tess saved him, her brow wrinkled under her hat brim. “Everyone needs to rest now and then. And pardon me, but you seem tired and tense.”
Tired and tense? He stared at her.
Her cheeks colored. “I’m sorry if I’m being presumptuous, but . . .”
But she must have seen him nodding off in the middle of an excellent sermon by Dr. Harold Ockenga. “A little tired. Nothing a nice black cup of coffee can’t fix. But I’m not tense.”
“Oh.” Tess’s light green eyes narrowed with concern. “You keep rubbing your neck.”
He was doing it that very moment, and he lowered his hand. “A crick. Slept on it wrong.”
“I know I’m wasting words.” Arch Vandenberg set his gray fedora over his blond hair. “But don’t forget Tess leaves next week.”
Dan hadn’t forgotten. In fact, he was counting the days until the pretty little distraction left Boston. He gave her a respectful nod and turned to Mary. “I assume we’ll have a going-away party next weekend.”
“Oh yes,” Mary said.
“I’ll be there. Until then . . .” He tipped his navy-blue cover and headed down the sidewalk.
“I know the problem,” Lillian called after him. “You’re getting old. You’re turning thirty in the spring and can’t handle all that walking. Would you like to borrow my crutches?”
Dan faced the group. Arch was good for Lillian. She never used to mention her handicap, much less joke about it. “I’m too far gone for crutches. Apparently I need a nap in my rocking chair and a liniment rubdown.”
While everyone was laughing, Dan’s gaze dipped to Lillian’s prosthetic leg.
A familiar burn smoldered in his chest.
That was the year Dan had to finish growing up because his father failed as a man. Unlike his father, Dan wasn’t averse to hard work. He tipped his cover again. “Pardon me, but duty calls.”
That afternoon, D
an sat in his office at the Boston Navy Yard with a sandwich and a cup of joe from the cafeteria. Although the yard bustled round-the-clock as new ships were built, the office was deserted.
All the better to get some work done.
He spread manila folders before him. So many projects. Admiral Howard had hinted Dan’s special assignment would come soon, so Dan wanted to clear his desk and make it easy for Mr. Bentley to take care of things in his absence.
The first few folders were for radar projects. In October, the US Navy would start fitting out escort vessels with centimetric radar, which was more effective at detecting U-boats than the older meter-length radar. The British and Americans were also working feverishly to build centimetric radar systems small enough to fit in aircraft.
Dan sipped his coffee. Always had to stay one step ahead of the Nazis.
The next set of folders covered improved weaponry. Rocket projectiles, better depth charges, and a promising homing torpedo that could be fired by ships or aircraft.
And Dan’s pet project, a series of studies on auxiliary carriers. Aircraft were effective at keeping U-boats away from convoys, but land-based aircraft were limited by range, leaving critical regions of the ocean unprotected. If convoys could bring their own aircraft, they might put Admiral Karl Dönitz and his Unterseeboote out of commission forever.
A twinge of pain, and Dan massaged a knot at the base of his neck. Sure, it’d be nice to take a day off and stroll through the country with a pretty girl. Who wouldn’t want that?
But his time on the USS Cleveland confirmed the need to avoid distractions. This technological work had merit. The VT proximity-fuzed shells had been rushed into production and were scheduled to be sent to the Pacific in November.
No days off. No leisurely strolls. And definitely no pretty girls.
He had work to do and a good reason to do it.
Dan leaned back in his chair and surveyed the office. Empty. Quiet.
And lonely.
7
Smith College
Northampton, Massachusetts
Tuesday, October 6, 1942
In an explosion of fall color, Tess lugged her suitcase across the campus of Smith College. Red maples and orange oaks and yellow elms—Tess’s favorite—accented the attractive buildings in red brick and white stone.
Thank you, Lord. She prayed also to remind herself that this was what she wanted. Even if it meant leaving her friends.
Her throat felt thick. Despite humiliation and heartbreak, this past year had been wonderful, living with her best friend and making new friends with Lillian and Yvette.
She stopped and adjusted her grip on the suitcase. The bus driver had pointed her to Capen Hall, and Tess peered up the walkway through the foliage. That white building with the regal columns looked right.
Mary, Lillian. Would she make such good friends in the WAVES?
What about Yvette?
Tess let out a sigh in the chilly air. Yesterday evening when Tess had been packing, Yvette had returned from her meeting a ghostly shade of white.
Professor Arnaud had received word from his cousin in France. The Gestapo had caught his caretaker and the caretaker’s brother exchanging letters and weapons. Both were arrested.
Yvette was convinced someone in the Boston group was a spy, and she was furious that one of her friends betrayed them. The professor insisted it was all a coincidence, but Yvette said he was naïve and foolish.
Of course, she’d say the same thing if she were the snitch.
Tess gave her head a brisk shake. What a horrible thought, and ridiculous. She knew Yvette better than that.
A breeze stirred through an elm tree, sending leaves fluttering. Tess plucked one from the sky. The same bright yellow as the dress she’d worn to her going-away party. Since she wouldn’t have many possessions in the Navy, her friends had given her letters or cards instead of gifts.
Dan’s was the shortest, so short she’d memorized it: “I pass on advice from a great man, Admiral Aloysius Howard. Stay the course, Tess. When things get tough—and they will—stay the course.”
That was all, plus a drawing of a compass in black ink. She’d teased him and said someday he ought to draw her a whole coloring book.
She’d almost gotten a smile. She’d seen it wiggling in the corner of his mouth, begging to burst free. How glorious that would have been.
Tess climbed the broad stone steps to Capen Hall. Yes, it was definitely best she’d left Boston.
A desk stood inside the front door, manned by a real WAVE—a woman in her early forties in the stylish navy-blue uniform. She must have been one of the first 125 officers who trained last month, handpicked by Lt. Cdr. Mildred McAfee herself.
Should Tess salute? A bad salute would look awful, so she smiled. “Good morning.”
“Last name?”
So, no pleasantries. “Beaumont.”
“Beaumont . . .” She scanned a typed list. “Quintessa?”
“I go by Tess.”
“Here you go by Beaumont. You’ll be billeted in cabin 245 on the second deck.”
“Second deck?” Tess frowned, then laughed. “Oh, the second floor. Like a ship. How cute.”
Brown eyes bored through her. “This is the Navy, Beaumont. Every facility is a ship, and nothing is cute.”
“Yes, sir—ma’am. Aye aye, ma’am.” She sounded sillier with each word.
“Leave your civilian hat in your cabin, then report to the mess hall to be fitted for your uniform.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” She hauled her suitcase up to the second deck past dozens of chattering young ladies in civilian clothes. The hallway reminded her of her dormitory at Miami University, and so did her new room, except it had two bunk beds instead of two twin beds.
Tess set her suitcase on an empty top bunk and unpinned her hat. Her orders to report for duty had told her to bring enough civilian clothing to last two weeks, since her new uniform had to be tailored. The rest of her belongings had been shipped home to Ohio.
Back downstairs—on the main deck?—Tess followed the sounds of feminine conversation toward the dining hall—the mess hall. She’d heard Navy lingo from Jim and Arch and Dan, but now she’d have to learn it.
“Shiver me timbers,” she muttered. “Avast, ye hearties.”
In the mess, dozens of women stood in line, and Tess joined the throng. She greeted the young lady ahead of her. “Hi, I’m Tess Beaumont.”
“I’m Kate Madison.” The gorgeous brunette flashed a dazzling smile and spoke in a Southern drawl. “This is my best friend, Ada Sue Duncan.”
“Nice to meet you, Kate, Ada Sue.” It was impossible to say Ada Sue without a Southern accent. “Where are you from?”
“Savannah, Georgia.” Ada Sue’s bright blue eyes beamed, her face framed by sleek, deep golden hair. “And you?”
“Ohio originally. I’ve lived in Boston this past year, not too far from Northampton.”
“It’s dreadfully cold here,” Kate said. “But it’s beautiful.”
Tess suppressed a smile. “Wait till the snow comes.”
“Next three.” A sailor beckoned Kate, Ada Sue, and Tess toward three ladies with tape measures.
Without a greeting, one lady took Tess’s name, braced one end of the tape measure on Tess’s shoulder, and ran it down to her wrist. “Arm length, twenty-one. Arms up please.”
Tess closed her eyes to the indignity of the bust measurement. “I’m glad the Navy chose fashionable uniforms for the WAVES.”
“I am too,” Kate said.
The single-breasted navy-blue jacket and flared skirt would be so flattering. “They’re designed by Mainbocher. I love his work. We sell it at Filene’s.”
“Filene’s? The department store?” An unfamiliar voice.
As the tape measure slipped down to her waist, Tess opened her eyes and sought the voice—a tall woman with frizzy brown hair and a not-too-attractive face. Tess smiled at her. “Yes. Are you from Boston?”
What a snob. But Tess maintained her smile as the tape measure transferred to her hips. “I have a business degree. I was training to work in Filene’s business offices. But yes, I was an excellent salesgirl.”
An eye roll, and the woman looked away.
“What fun to work in a department store,” Ada Sue said. “I always thought it would be a glamorous job.”
“I don’t know about that,” Tess said. “But I know our uniforms will be glamorous. I’m so glad we don’t have to sacrifice our femininity to serve our country.”
The frizzy-haired girl huffed. “I thought the Navy was recruiting leaders, not cheerleaders. And I forgot my pom-poms.”
Tess’s stomach tightened, but she wouldn’t rise to the girl’s bait. “Don’t worry. I packed an extra pair.”
Kate and Ada Sue laughed.
“Well, I agree with Tess,” Kate said. “It’s important that we look good. The newspapers and magazines will take pictures of us marching in our smart navy-blue uniforms. Then the women of America will flood the recruitment offices.”
Tess smiled at her new friend, thankful for her support.
“Done.” The lady with the tape measure motioned Tess onward.
In the next line, the ladies received new hats—covers, as the Navy said. Dark blue with a slightly peaked crown, a narrow brim tipped up on each side, and a badge with a silver eagle and shield over golden crossed anchors. This would be the extent of their uniform for the next two weeks.
Tess set hers on top of her curls, glad she’d already had her hair cut above her collar to meet Navy regulations. “How do I look, ladies?”
“Adorable,” Ada Sue said. “How about me?”
She looked adorable too. They all did. But Tess put on a mock glare. “This is the Navy, and nothing is cute, much less adorable.”
They laughed, then they followed a sailor’s directions to go to John M. Greene Hall for orientation at ten hundred.
“Ten o’clock,” Tess translated for her friends. “Perhaps we should have chosen the WAAC. At least they speak English.”