Dangerous Passage

With her third cup of coffee in her hand, she went to the window and nervously watched as two more planes landed. Paul's bomber was not among them.

The words, “Paul, where are you?” escaped ever so quietly from her lips.

A half hour later, a plane that had been severely damaged, landed. Another landed with just one landing gear and skidded to a stop at the end of the runway. That was eight of the ten planes that returned and still Paul was not among them.

With each passing minute she knew that the chances of Paul returning were diminishing. By noon she had accepted the worst. Her stomach was in knots and her heart was breaking. Her boss, Commander Hugh Holladay came out from his office and spoke to Dorothy.

"Please take the afternoon off, Dorothy. I can get along without you. I know that Paul meant something to you and I really don't need you here this afternoon.”

"Thank you, Commander. I will. And thank you again.”

Dorothy rode her bicycle home with tears clouding her vision. She could barely see the road. She leaned her bicycle against the side of the house, fumbled for the front door key and had difficulty placing the key in the lock. Once inside she locked the door and took out a bottle of sherry from the cabinet. She poured three fingers in a tumbler and downed that in one gulp. Then she poured the same amount a second time. She held up the glass before her first sip and said, “To Paul. I wish you well.” Then the tears came and she sat down on the sofa and cried loudly into the pillow. Between crying and drinking sherry she passed the afternoon and didn't bother to make supper. She just continued drinking until the bottle was empty and she had passed out on the sofa, still in her clothes.

She awoke in the morning with a dreadful headache. That was no surprise. She took three aspirin, let the hot water wash over her in the shower, put on fresh clothes and had a breakfast of toast and coffee. She pedaled her bicycle to work as if nothing had happened. Her boss greeted her as usual and she went about the day as if it were a typical day. What she did was done without thinking or concern. She was enclosed in her own world and was experiencing her own private loss.

She spent the next few days depressed and barely able to type and file. She wanted to go home and sleep. Her boss understood and was tolerant, not requesting that she do more than she was capable of doing. Finally, four days after she realized that Paul was gone she found that her work was returning to her standards. She didn't know that she would take the loss so hard. She was beginning to understand that she would have to pick herself up and get on with it.

A week later the wing commander was making an inspection of several new planes when a young airman asked to see him.

"I'm sorry. The wing commander is gone for about an hour. Could you return about eleven?”

"Yes, I suppose I can.

"May I tell him who called?” asked Dorothy.

"Tell him that Charles Nottingham wished to speak with him concerning a better route to one of our targets. I'm a navigator and I think I know of a safer route to Frankfurt. I'll try to be here at eleven.

After Charles Nottingham had his meeting with the wing commander he stopped for a minute to thank Dorothy for her assistance.

"I did nothing. But I'm glad you got to see the wing commander. Anything we can do to make the trip over Germany safer would be helpful. If your suggestion saves one plane it will be well worth the visit.”

"You were very helpful,” he said nervously, looking for words that would allow him to keep talking to this nice lady.

"Do you mind if I ask you? When is the last time you've had a nice home-cooked meal?”

"Not recently,” the navigator replied.

"Would you like a home-cooked meal?”

"I sure would. How can I get one?”