Thank you incredimeters for all you have done to help me edit my stories.
Dedication: I would like to dedicate this story to all the members of the Women Air Force Service Pilots (Wasp) group. Thank you, ladies. Job well done.
***Authors note*** The first chapter of this story is a lot of world-building. The physical part of this story will not start until chapter two so if you don't care about who the people are or where they came from, I would suggest you skip ahead to chapter two.
Also, fair warning. I find hairy, older women with saggy breasts very attractive. If that is not for you this may not be a story you will enjoy.
Prologue: Lockbourne Army Air Field, Columbus Ohio May 5, 1943.
Lt. William Henry and Lt. George Evans were standing in front of their fuel truck watching a brand-new Boeing B-17 bomber coming in for a landing. It was something they had seen a hundred times, and so were not too impressed. Lockbourne was a stopover for planes headed to the coast and eventually overseas. The plane came right in with a perfect line, the right speed, and the correct glide path. The strange thing was it didn't land. At the last minute, the pilot decided to do a go-round.
As the plane flew around the field the problem became apparent to both men. The plane's landing gear was not down. The two men looked at each other and in unison said, "Rookies."
They watched a little more attentively as the pilot once again lined up perfectly and this time put the plane down like a pro. William tapped George on the shoulder and said, "Hey, let's go."
The two men pulled up to the B-17 they had watched land earlier and found the fly crew doing their post-flight walk-around. William got out of the truck and walked over to who he assumed was the pilot. George looked at the flight crew and noticed that none of them were wearing Captain's or Lieutenant's bars. "I know the Army Air Corp was promoting men with flight training, any flight training, as fast as they can," said George, "but can these guys be non-coms?"
"What was the problem?" William asked as he put his hand on the shoulder of the nearest member of the flight crew, "You boys forget which switch was for the landing gear?"
The figure turned and before George could believe it, William was flat on the tarmac, unconscious. The figure then turned and removed her pilot's cap and a waterfall of bright red hair spilled out down to her shoulders. She walked over to George who simply stared dumbfounded at the dirty, sweaty, angel that stood before him. "Hey, you," she said with a slight southern accent. "Is this joker, your friend?"
It took George a minute to respond and when he did his voice was shaky, to say the least, "Y-y-yeeeessss."
"Well, tell your friend," She looked down at William's motionless body, "When he wakes up. The reason we had to do a go-around was that the gear switch shorted out just as we lined up our approach. We had to put the wheels down manually. And since the maintenance on the manual gear release was done by the same moron that checked out the electrical systems on this bird, that wasn't really working either."
With that, the woman pilot moved over to the bomber's wing. The other flight crew members, having finished their portion of the checklists, joined her and together the four followed the redhead towards the nearest block house leaving William on the deck and George in awe. "What a woman." George thought out loud.
Chapter One: Kingwood VA. August 1, 1985
Jared Henry sat in Alison Evans' 1975 Ford F150. Jared was miserable and just wanted to get going.
Could this day get any worse?
Jared thought. He had been driving up to Ashland, Virginia to spend the summer with a long-time friend of the family, Alison C. Evans, when his unreliable 1977 MG midget broke down, again. He had gotten the car off the road but was then forced to walk, in the rain, to the nearest house to ask if he could call his mom for help.
The nearest house he discovered belonged to the Longstreet family. Mr. Longstreet had let him use the phone and then the two men went with Mr. Longstreet's tractor to pull Jared's prized British coupe into the family's barn. Mr. Longstreet was a bit of a self-taught mechanic. There was always something mechanical on the farm that needed fixing. He asked Jared's permission to take a look at the car. Jared, disgusted with the car and not expecting much, told Mr. Longstreet to, "have at it."
Jared went into the house where Mrs. Longstreet had insisted that he go upstairs, get out of his wet clothes, and dry off. Jared had forgotten to bring in any of his bags and so was headed back out the door when she said her older son Chris was about Jared's size 5' 11" 170 and Jared was more than welcome to borrow/have a change of clothes. The clothes fit OK. They were a bit big. Chris had a stereotypical farm-boy build, whereas Jared was a little on the skinny side. Jared combed his brown hair and tried to smile before heading downstairs.
Jared had walked into the kitchen to find Mrs. Longstreet making dinner and trying desperately to help her two daughters with their math homework. Jared, as it just so happened, had just received his teaching certificate and was about to start an assistant professorship at Randolph-Macon College this fall. His field of study had been algebra and geometry and he said helping the girls was the least he could do for all the help the family had given him.
Halfway through explaining the order of math functions,
M
y
D
ear
A
unt
S
ally, Alison C. Evans, known to most people as Ace, arrived. Ace was 5' 5" and weighed 160 pounds. Her extra pounds were distributed mostly to her chest, hips, and butt with only a little left over to go around her stomach. She was sixty-five with her hair in a shaggy pixie cut that was still mostly red with only a few strands surrendering to white. Her eyes were hazel and her smile was yellowed by years of drinking tea and coffee.
Mrs. Longstreet and Ace became fast friends, which came as no surprise to Jared as everyone seemed to instantly like or at least respect Ace. After talking with Ace for a few minutes, Mrs. Longstreet went back to preparing dinner, Jared went back to tutoring the girls and Ace went to the barn to see about Jared's car.
Ace and Mr. Longstreet walked in a half hour later looking very pleased with themselves. They had not only gotten the car running but loaded up on Ace's trailer. Ace and Jared were invited to dinner and after begging off twice they had no choice but to accept. An hour or so later with the MG ready for transport and their bellies full, they were finally able to head for Ace's house in Ashland, Virginia. Ace and Mrs. Longstreet exchanged addresses and Ace promised to write soon. Then she got into the truck next to Jared.
"Don't tell Evelynn," Ace patted Jared on the knee, "but that was the best chicken and dumplings I have ever had."
"Can we just go," asked Jared coldly. "Please?"
"OK," Ace said and started the truck, "Mr. Gloomy Gus."
Ace rolled down her window and waved one last time to the Longstreet family as the truck and trailer started down the rock driveway back to the main road. Ace turned right and started north. She switched the radio to a classic jazz station and prayed it would come in this far south. It did and Duke Ellington filled the cab. She knew Jared well enough to just let him sulk for a while. She gave him 30 minutes, roughly half the journey to Ashland before she decided to talk.
"So, you want the good news or the bad news about the MG?" Ace asked.
Jared sighed, "Good news please."
"The good news is that Bert," seeing the confusion on Jared's face in the rear view mirror Ace clarified, "Mr. Longstreet, is a wizard with baling wire and duct tape. He was able to jury-rig the throttle enough for us to get the MG loaded up under its own power. You know you could not have picked a better place to break down."
Jared smiled at the absurdity of that statement. "What can I say," Jared spread his arms wide and cocked his head to one side, "It's a gift."
"It is," Ace agreed. "God is always looking out for you."
"I know." A fifty-pound bag of gloom slipped off of Jared's back. "You got the Longstreet's address, right?" Jared asked.
"Yep."
