{"id":1084,"date":"2019-02-12T13:05:53","date_gmt":"2019-02-12T18:05:53","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/read.whitefire-publishing.com\/?p=1084"},"modified":"2020-06-01T09:05:38","modified_gmt":"2020-06-01T13:05:38","slug":"wing-and-a-prayer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/wing-and-a-prayer\/","title":{"rendered":"Wing and a Prayer"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Wing and a Prayer<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

by Dianne Price<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

When Colonel Rob Savage recovers enough from a near-death accident to resume command of the demoralized Heavy Bomber Group at Edenoaks Air Base in England, he faces many challenges. As Rob labors to make his group best in Wing again, his bride, Maggie, works long, exhausting hours as an RAF nurse, all the while fearing for Rob\u2019s safety during bombing missions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The unthinkable happens. Rob and Maggie return to their Scots island of Innisbraw, battling to keep alive their dreams for the future. Rationing, blackouts, and the threat of German U-boat invasions conspire against the newlyweds. Can Rob and Maggie cleave to their faith in God through such hardships and trials as the devastating war goes on and on and on?<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

Edenoaks Air\nBase, England, late November, 1942<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Colonel Rob Savage paused on the walk in front of the\nbase hospital, gaze sweeping the south side of the air base.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Only 0530 and already Jeeps jounced over\nrutted roads, strident horns scattering bicyclists who raced each other to the\nchow hall. A few sluggish crewmen plodded through the main gate, heads down,\nuniforms rumpled after a short leave\u2014and a long bus ride.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLooks the same, smells the same.<\/em>\u201d Rob\u2019s nostrils twitched at the odor\nof spent aviation fuel and smoke from Nissen hut stoves wafting palliative\nofferings to the bruised sky. The always present, elusive scent of fear\nsuspended over the base turned sour on his tongue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His bride, Maggie, swatted his arm. \u201cIt\u2019s\nonly been six months. What did you expect?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a quick grin, he ticked his wildest\nwishes off on his fingers. \u201cOh, Nissen huts for everybody instead of tents,\ntarmac to replace those dirt roads and their potholes big enough to swallow a Jeep,\nand a few more hangars equipped for extensive large repairs.\u201d He laughed and\nhugged her waist. \u201cA man can dream, can\u2019t he?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy man always dreams\u2014then makes them come\ntrue.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The luve in Maggie\u2019s eyes stopped a breath\nin his throat. After looking around to make sure no one was watching, he\nbrushed his lips across her silken cheek. The warm-honey fragrance of heather\non her skin and hair spoke of their Scottish island home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Innisbraw. The Atlantic pounding the rocky\nfells, sending prisms of spume high into the air, wildflowers fluttering like\nbutterflies in a brisk sea-salted breeze, island folk smiling a greeting as one\npassed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His yearning to return tasted sharp and\nclean, like a blade of spring grass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere did you go, luve? You\u2019re far away.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her pleading violet-blue eyes and\nplaintive question snapped him back to the present. \u201cHome. Innisbraw.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maggie sighed and nodded. \u201cI miss it too.\u201d\nA rueful smile wrinkled her nose. \u201cBut now \u2019tis back to war with you.\u201d She\ntapped her watch. \u201cAnd I\u2019m going to be late reporting in.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rob\u2019s answering smile faded like the sun\nat gloaming. \u201cPray for me, Maggie. I\u2019ve got a bad feeling that the temporary CO\nmay have left me some nasty surprises.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Warm fingers laced through his. \u201cYou know\nI will. Remember this promise from the Word: \u2018I can do everything with the help\nof Christ who gives me the strength I need.\u2019\u201d She squeezed his hand and mimed a\nkiss. Tucking errant wisps of hair into the bun above her collar, the luve of\nhis life\u2014his wife<\/em>\u2014hurried up the\nwalk, starched hospital whites rustling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A pang of loss brought a groan as she\nopened the door and disappeared inside. No more running his fingers through the\nmass of black hair that slipped down her slim back to below her waist. No more\nsitting in front of a peat fire sharing memories of yesterdays and dreams for\ntomorrows. No more walking across the top of Innis Fell, laughing at the pewlie\ngulls hitching a ride on a rare off-shore wind. His belly cramped. It would be\nagony not having her at his side almost every waking moment. Maggie exuded a\nfaith he would take years to attain, and her sweet spirit understood his\nimpetuous rush to accomplish everything immediately.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But she was right. He was back to war,\nwhere he longed to be, fulfilling his duty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Guide\nme, Lord. Give me Your thoughts, Your words today.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

His steps turned toward his office. A few\nofficers he didn\u2019t recognize executed crisp salutes as they passed. Why were\nthey smiling? They couldn\u2019t know he was their new CO\u2014unless someone had leaked\nthe news.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In front of Operations Headquarters, an\nAmerican flag sagged on its pole, limp in the breathless morning. Hank\u2019s black\nbicycle leaned against the dingy white clapboards.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The familiar sight brought a stir of\nexcitement as Rob pulled the door open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Notices to flight personnel\u2014some yellowed\nwith age, some new\u2014fluttered from a corkboard on the wall. A copy of a Stars and Stripes <\/em>newspaper lay\ndiscarded on the empty, uncomfortable wooden bench. The same bench where those\nawaiting an appointment, usually disciplinary, with the CO would fidget, the\nodor of their sweat and fear permeating the peeling paint. The door to his old\noffice was closed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Major Hank Hirsch, Rob\u2019s aide since he\nfirst took command of the 396th<\/sup>, sat at a desk in the middle of the\nlong, narrow room, muttering as he shuffled through a mountain of paperwork. He\nlooked up and leaped to his feet, a grin threatening to dislodge the\nsteel-framed glasses perched precariously near the end of his nose. \u201cColonel\nSavage!\u201d He snapped a brisk salute.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rob returned the salute with a smile so\nbroad he almost choked on it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hank adjusted his glasses, rushed forward,\nand pumped Rob\u2019s hand. \u201cRob, you can\u2019t know how good it is to see you back.\nYour recovery took so long, I wondered if you\u2019d ever return.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s good to be back, Hank.\u201d Rob clapped\nthe major\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The six months had not been kind to Hank.\nSalt overwhelmed pepper in his short sideburns, lines of fatigue bracketed his\nlips, and his once-erect shoulders slumped. He held Rob at arm\u2019s length. \u201cYou\u2019ve\nlost some weight, but you look fit.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His voice sounded hoarse. The replacement\ncommander must have worked him into the ground. \u201cI feel fit. And don\u2019t worry\nabout the weight. Maggie\u2019s on a crusade to fatten me up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, congratulations on your marriage. General\nFielding announced it at a briefing. It\u2019s been the talk of the base all\nweekend.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Is\nthat why those officers were smiling?<\/em>\n\u201cUh-oh, things must be mighty slow around here when that kind of news makes\nwaves.\u201d He winked at Hank.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hank\u2019s gray eyes sparkled, a fleeting\nglimpse of the man Rob remembered. \u201cCome on, Rob. When \u2018the old man\u2019 finally\ngets hitched, that\u2019s news.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou really don\u2019t know?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo idea.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEver since you first took command last\nJanuary, there\u2019s been a bet on how long it would take you to say \u2018I do.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA bet?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s right. I believe the pool was over\nthree hundred dollars. Major Anderson won it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rob\u2019s pulse thrummed at the thought of\nseeing his best friend. \u201cDen? That traitor. I\u2019ll make sure he doesn\u2019t keep a\ndime of that money. He\u2019ll be standing rounds of drinks at the officer\u2019s club\nfor weeks before I\u2019m through with him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be too hard on him. I understand\nhe\u2019s the one who introduced you to your wife.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat? Is that what he\u2019s been telling\neverybody?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSure is.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rob suppressed a snort of glee at the\nthought of getting even with his old buddy. \u201cHe\u2019s lying through his teeth. All\nhe did was dare me to ask her to dance. When I get through with him …\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hank checked his watch. \u201cThat\u2019ll have to\nwait. You have an appointment with Doc Larson right now for your physical.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, yeah, my physical.\u201d Rob\u2019s chest\nrumbled as he chuckled. \u201cYou\u2019re about to witness the quickest physical you\u2019ve\never seen. Come on. You\u2019re going with me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI want you to see the shape I\u2019m in. After\nall, you run interference for me with Wing. I need to convince you almost as\nmuch as the doc.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

* * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Flight Surgeon Major Larson lowered his\nstethoscope and scribbled cryptic figures onto a chart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rob\u2019s heartbeat stuttered. \u201cWhat\u2019s the\nproblem? I could have run in place a lot longer if you hadn\u2019t told me to stop.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The doctor tossed the chart onto the\nexamining table. \u201cTwenty minutes at that pace should have raised your pulse at\nleast thirty beats over what I just recorded. What have you been doing on that\nisland?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hank flipped Rob a thumbs-up and waggled\nhis eyebrows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWalking, running, leg-lifts, sit-ups,\nmore walking and running.\u201d Rob toweled off and pulled on his skivvy shirt. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t understand how you can be in\nbetter physical condition than before you crashed.\u201d Larson studied the worn\nlinoleum for a moment before looking at Rob. \u201cA little over six months ago, you\nleft here paralyzed from the hips down, only a breath away from dying. Am I\nlooking at some kind of miracle?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rob suppressed a snort. \u201cMiracle? If you\nmean instant healing, you\u2019re way off base. If you\u2019re talking about John\nMcGrath\u2019s skill as a surgeon and the rehab plan he worked out for me, as the\nBrits say, \u2018You\u2019re spot on.\u2019\u201d He shrugged into his uniform shirt. \u201cThat\u2019s why\nso many people consider him one of the world\u2019s leading orthopedic surgeons.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Larson\u2019s face flushed. \u201cOf course.\u201d He\nglanced at the chart again. \u201cI\u2019ve never been so happy to be wrong in my life.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo I passed the physical?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWith flying colors. I\u2019ll call General\nFielding at Edenoaks Hall with the good news. He asked to be apprised of the\nresults the minute you finished.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThanks. Now, if that\u2019s all, I\u2019d better\ntackle a stack of paperwork.\u201d He toed into his boots. \u201cI\u2019ve got a lot of\ncatching up do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA word of warning.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Larson fidgeted, Adam\u2019s apple bobbing like\na fisherman\u2019s float in a stormy surf. \u201cFirst, I want to welcome you back to the\n396th<\/sup>. You were sorely missed. Right now, morale is low and I\nunderstand performance has suffered severely. You have your work cut out for\nyou. Of course, you did it once before. I\u2019m certain you can turn this group\ninto Wing\u2019s top performers again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ouch.\n<\/em>\u201cAnything else?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI want you to know how happy I am to have\nLeftenant McGra … Savage back. She\u2019s a real asset to any hospital.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThanks, Doc. I\u2019m glad to hear that. Of\ncourse I\u2019m a little prejudiced, since I wouldn\u2019t be talking to you today if she\nhadn\u2019t called her father.\u201d Rob\u2019s tone was more gruff than he meant it to be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The doctor\u2019s face flushed again. \u201cI\nunderstand.\u201d He unclenched and extended his hand. \u201cIt\u2019s good to have you back,\nColonel.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

* * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hank trotted to keep up with Rob. \u201cI\u2019ve\nnever seen Doc so flustered.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rob grunted. \u201cHe refused to remove that\nlarge piece of shrapnel from my back\u2014said it would kill me.\u201d He shortened his\nstride. \u201cIf Maggie hadn\u2019t been seconded here and contacted her father to\ntransfer me and remove the shrapnel, I\u2019d be six feet beneath a white cross in\nsome military graveyard.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDoesn\u2019t sound like Doc Larson. I\u2019ve\nalways considered us lucky to have him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t get me wrong. We are. For a while I\nblamed him for my being in such bad condition when I reached Edinburgh. But he was\nprobably so overwhelmed by having the CO as a patient, he was afraid he\u2019d botch\nthe surgery and end up killing me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hank held the OP\u2019s door open. \u201cI can\u2019t\nbelieve the RAF loaned your new wife to us again. Thought they\u2019d hang onto\nevery one of their experienced nurses.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ducking his six-five frame into the\nbuilding, Rob gripped Hank\u2019s arm. \u201cNot seconded this time. It\u2019s a permanent\nposting.\u201d He grinned at the surprise on his aide\u2019s face. \u201cI\u2019ll tell you all\nabout it when we can squeeze in a few minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

* * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just outside Rob\u2019s office window, B-17s\nsat on hardstands in the parking lot beside the runway, the gray sky mirrored\nin polished Perspex windscreens. He shook his head and glanced at his watch.\n0800 hours, cloudy but no rain. Why weren\u2019t they out on a strike? That would be\nhis first question to Hank as soon as he brought in all the papers for the\nfirst briefing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The front door slammed and his office door\nburst open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Major Dennis Anderson, Rob\u2019s best friend\nsince plebe year at West Point, rushed in, his always-ruddy face the same color\nas his short, unruly mop of hair. He grabbed Rob into a bear hug. \u201cBucko!\u201d he\nshouted. \u201cWelcome back. You look great.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rob returned the hug, memories of the\nyears they\u2019d spent together threatening to tip him over the emotional<\/a> edge.\nThey hugged again, grins wide. \u201cSo do you, Den, but what are you doing here? I\nthought you\u2019d be high over France this time of morning.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTarget\u2019s socked in. Storms. So the\nmission was scrubbed.\u201d He grabbed Rob\u2019s shoulders. \u201cCome on. I want to see you\nrun a few laps around the office. I\u2019ve been waiting months for this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rob pulled away and sat at his desk,\npointing to the chair opposite his. \u201cThat\u2019ll have to wait. From what I\u2019ve\nheard, things haven\u2019t been going well around here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWork, work, work, that\u2019s all you think\nabout. At least that crash didn\u2019t scramble your brains.\u201d Den plopped down in\nthe chair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The intercom buzzed. \u201cWant me to hold off\na while with that briefing, Colonel?\u201d Hank asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah. I\u2019ll get some info from the major,\nthen we\u2019ll look at that stack of papers. And close my office door, please. No\ncalls, no interruptions.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Den tapped fingers on knees, right eyelid\ntwitching.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rob leaned back, lacing his fingers behind\nhis head. \u201cDoc said morale\u2019s in the tank and Hank showed me some of the worst\nstrike photos I\u2019ve ever seen. Only twenty-five percent of the bombs on target?\nYou\u2019ve been second-in-command while I\u2019ve been gone. What happened?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSecond-in-command, huh?\u201d Den exhaled\nloudly and rubbed his eyes. \u201cWho do you think was pegged to lead all those\nstrikes? Yours truly, that\u2019s who.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo the last commander wouldn\u2019t fly lead?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWouldn\u2019t? Couldn\u2019t is the real\nnitty-gritty. The minute your ambulance turned the corner, Wells was on the\nhorn recruiting an old buddy to take your place.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rob pictured by-the-book Wing Commander\nBrigadier General Wells, Major General Harlan Fielding\u2019s predecessor, rubbing\nhis hands in glee at the thought of having one of his own puppets appointed to\ncommand his star group.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fatigue deepened the lines around Den\u2019s\nbloodshot blue eyes. He\u2019d lost weight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

First Hank, now Den. What other bad news\nlay buried beneath piles of reports? \u201cHow well were the strikes planned?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRight out of the book, but don\u2019t ask how\nmany had to be scrubbed because we couldn\u2019t get enough crews or planes into the\nair. The doc was right. Morale\u2019s in the tank.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How many planes, each crewed by ten good\nmen, had they lost in the past six months? \u201cLosses?\u201d He steeled himself for the\nanswer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo many you\u2019ll have to ask Hank for the\nfigures.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Den was hedging, so it must be bad. He\nshould be able to recite those numbers in his sleep. \u201cIs that the reason you\ncouldn\u2019t get enough planes in the air?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOnly one reason.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat are the others?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOur belated commander couldn\u2019t even find\nhis own quarters by himself, let alone manage the protocol needed to finagle\nnew crews out of Reassignment HQ. Wells dug in his heels and only requested\nreplacement Forts for the 396th <\/sup>when Bomber Command got on his back.\nWe often had squadrons down to three or four planes instead of seven.\u201d His\neyelid twitched again. \u201cPlus, he cut the ground crews to five men instead of\nthe usual ten. Some planes sat on their hardstands for days waiting to be\nrepaired and signed off as airworthy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rob slammed his fist on his desk and\nleaped up. \u201cFive men to plug holes and replace engines? And Eighth Bomber\nCommand cleared that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey were never told. Remember, with Wells\nas Wing Commander, he ran the show.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m surprised he didn\u2019t have a mutiny on\nhis hands when Wing\u2019s other three groups had to cover most of the strikes.\u201d He\npaced, hands clenched behind his back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Den swiveled his chair, tracking Rob. \u201cWhy\ndo you think Wells was recalled to the States? We weren\u2019t the only group with a\nbeef. All the pilots in Wing, including our squadrons, wrote Eighth Bomber\nCommand and gave them the skinny. Believe me, they didn\u2019t pull any punches.\nLess than a week later, General Fielding booted Wells out and took over.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rob leaned on his desk. \u201cWhen was this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThree weeks ago.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat took Hal so long to get rid of my\nreplacement?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe left the same day as Wells. Since\nthen, General Fielding\u2019s been planning our strikes and finding crews, and the\nground crews are back up to ten.\u201d Den snorted. \u201cYou should have heard the\nclapping and hooting when the general showed up at our briefing a few days ago\nand announced you\u2019d be arriving to retake command today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe that explained those eager smiles\nhe\u2019d encountered on his way. \u201cWhy should they celebrate? I\u2019ll be lucky if I\nknow any of the pilots still based here. I\u2019m only a big question mark until I\nprove myself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou think the general stopped there? He\nspent over fifteen minutes filling in everyone there with the way you\noperate\u2014planning each strike to minimize losses, flying lead plane on the\nhairiest missions, even your hard-nosed handling of anyone who shirks his duty.\nBy the time he finished, the crews were so fired up they went out and bombed\nthe living daylights out of our target. That was a set of strike photos you\u2019d\nhave been proud of.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rob called Hank in and the three spent\nmost of the day reviewing the changes to be made. After that, Rob and Den\nnursed another mug of coffee and caught up on their friendship. By chowtime,\nRob was starved, exhausted, and overwhelmed by all he had to accomplish.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\ncan do everything with the help of Christ who gives me the strength I need.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yes, with the Lord\u2019s help, he could\u2014he\nwould\u2014make it happen.<\/p>\n\n\n