Ducking into the chilly and constant breeze, he trekked toward the tarmac where the new P-40s were tethered. A group of new recruits to the 11th Pursuit Squadron slept huddled under the belly of the planes with no hope in sight for better quarters. Umnak was a new, ill-supplied post. Coming to the end of the steel-mat runway, Chet scanned the barren, desolate horizon. Not a tree or shrub to engage his line of sight. Just gray. The words of Kelly’s latest letter surfaced in his thoughts. He’d memorized every word, every curlicue, dotted i and crossed t of her elegant script. He thought he was a hero until she wrote of her own bravery. Though she’d never call it courage. Only facing her fears. The lover part of him wanted to climb atop a P-40 and shout it to the fog-laden mountains, “I’m the luckiest man alive.” Knowing he was bringing a kid into the world, knowing the strength of his future wife changed his heart and how he planned to fight the war. He’d make it home alive.
