The Spitfire Girls(5)
‘Mr President, the honour is all mine.’
‘My wife insisted that I clear time in my schedule to meet with you,’ he said, one eyebrow raised as he spoke. Lizzie wasn’t sure if it was a sign of amusement or not, but she guessed the president was too busy to mock anyone by making time to take lunch. ‘This is General Henry Arnold. He’s as curious as I am about this concept of women fliers, so I thought it best he join us.’
Lizzie’s face was burning as she exchanged pleasantries with the general and sat down at the table, following the first lady’s lead. Her father had talked about General ‘Hap’ Arnold, and she couldn’t believe he’d come to meet her. Someone appeared with iced tea, and before long both men and Eleanor had their eyes trained on her. She was desperate to take a sip of tea; her mouth was parched as she tried to remember everything she wanted to say, but they were looking at her expectantly. For goodness’ sake, she was about to share her ideas with the president himself!
‘Miss Dunlop, tell us more about your thoughts on women fliers,’ General Arnold said, taking the lead and shifting in his seat. Lizzie wasn’t sure what to make of him yet, but the fact that he was waiting for her to speak was a good sign. ‘I’m intrigued by what Eleanor has told me of your ideas so far, and I understand you’ve written quite a few letters to her on the topic. But I’d like to hear it from you.’
Lizzie sat up straighter, keeping her shoulders square and reminding herself not to speak too fast. This was her one chance and she wasn’t going to waste it.
‘I’m not sure if either you or Mr President are aware that we have almost three thousand women with pilot’s licences here in America, according to government records. Many of these women would love to assist the military in the case of our country joining the war, including myself. I see our potential role as being non-combat pilots supporting the military.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I believe women fliers are capable of anything.’
It had been almost two years since she’d first started pushing the idea, and to finally be talking about it with someone who could make it happen was almost impossible to believe.
‘And this support you’re thinking of – it includes the ferrying of planes?’ the general asked.
‘Yes, it certainly does,’ Lizzie replied, feeling more confident now that she’d got started. ‘I would like to see women ferrying all kinds of planes, so our men are free to engage in combat. I envisage our women pilots doing everything possible to assist the military to ensure the smooth operation of our air force.’
‘And what sort of girl would want to fly planes for the military, Miss Dunlop?’ the general asked, exchanging glances with the president.
She paused, taking a sip of her iced tea and then levelling her gaze at General Arnold. He wasn’t going easy on her, and she liked that. If he was, she’d know that he was merely humouring her, rather than taking her seriously – and, more than anything, she wanted to be heard. Her confidence rose as she prepared to answer him.
‘A girl just like me, actually,’ she said, giving what she hoped was a dazzling smile. ‘One who has spent her spare time in the air for as long as she can remember, exploring the sky instead of playing with dolls and learning the piano. That’s the kind of girl you’ll find wanting to fly military planes.’
There was silence for a moment before the two men erupted into laughter, and Eleanor caught her eye, giving her a quick smile. Lizzie could understand that men had a difficult time with her love of flying – to them she was as feminine as could be, with her signature pink lipstick and her blonde hair curled and pinned. They thought that being a pilot was a man’s role, and they couldn’t fathom her desire to be in the sky when she should be consumed with thoughts of marriage and babies.
‘She has you there, gentlemen,’ Eleanor said, smiling and thanking a staff member who arrived with plates of sandwiches and a platter full of bread, cold meats and cheese.
‘She certainly does,’ the general agreed, nodding. ‘Given that you’re Lieutenant Dunlop’s daughter, it doesn’t really surprise me that you’re so confident in the air, though. I suppose he had you up in a plane when you were knee-high to a grasshopper?’
‘You know my father personally?’ Lizzie asked, surprised.
‘Miss Dunlop, every military man worth his salt knows who your father is,’ the general told her. ‘There weren’t that many men awarded the Distinguished Service Cross in the Great War for five victories in the sky. It’s one of the only reasons I entertained this meeting in the first place.’
She nodded, not sure whether to be happy her father’s legacy had helped her, or annoyed that she hadn’t been seen on her own merits.
‘Now tell me,’ President Roosevelt began, taking charge of the conversation, ‘would you be personally prepared to train these women, if we allowed such a thing to go ahead? You genuinely believe you are up to the task of commanding a squadron?’
‘Yes, absolutely,’ Lizzie replied. ‘I wholeheartedly agree with Mrs Roosevelt’s recent comment that women are a weapon waiting to be used. With respect, Mr President, I honestly don’t believe that you or the army could imagine how brave, talented and capable women pilots would be. You won’t be sorry if you give us the opportunity – I can personally guarantee that.’