Irene (standard:other, 1569 words)
Author: Pitter Pat	Added: Jan 08 2003	Views/Reads: 3338/2203	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This story is in honor of Irene, an Alzheimer patient, whose final conversation was of memories she had made many years earlier as a WASP during WWII.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

reach the rudder peddles without a pillow. Some of the boys would laugh 
at me carrying my pillow to the plane, but I just ignored them.” 

“I imagine some of the men could be very rude,” I said. 

“Some, others were very nice. Beverly and I stuck close together so they
didn't bother us very much. Sadly, Beverly died on a test run of an 
AT-11. It crashed on July 18, 1944 when her plane went out of control 
in the mountains near Las Vegas. When a WASP died, they were not given 
military honors like the men. Her family had to pay for her final trip 
home, there was no flag draped on her coffin, and no gold star given to 
her family to be place in their window as they did for a man.” Irene's 
eyes started to water. “We were never officially a part of the 
military. Thirty-eight good women gave their lives for our country and 
many more good men have died fighting this horrible war.” 

Irene was silent for a few moments. “Would you like a drink of water?” I
asked as I held a cup of water close to her mouth. She took a small 
drink through the straw, held the water in her mouth a few moments, and 
then swallowed it. 

“After Beverly died I continued to fly. I met many interesting people,
but none caught my eye the way a young flier named Irwin did. He didn't 
look down on me the way most of the boys did. He'd talk about the 
planes with me as he would have with one of the boys. He wasn't afraid 
to ask me questions. He knew I'd tested the planes and knew how they 
handled. I tried not to think too much of him, knowing he'd soon go off 
to war, but I grew very fond of him.” 

“One day Major Urban called all the WASPS on the field and told us our
job was done. If we continued flying we would be taking jobs away from 
the boys. We were told to pack and prepare to go home. I knew this was 
what was best for our country, but I cried. I didn't want to go home 
and work in a factory for the war effort; I wanted to help the boys 
fly.” 

“I'm sure what was very hard. Did you go home?” I asked. 

She continued, too deep in thought to hear my question, “Irwin found me
crying and told me not to be sad. He told me his father promised to 
give him his share of the farmland when he receives his discharge 
papers.  He pulled a small notebook from his shirt pocket and showed me 
his sketches.  He is already planning his own airport in the small town 
where he grew up. It will be far from any other airports and he will be 
a great service to the community. On bent knee he asked me if I would 
wait for him to come home, marry him, and help him to make his dreams 
of building and operating the airport a reality. Here I am, waiting for 
my Irwin to return from war.” 

She smiled and peacefully slipped into her final rest. 

It was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I went and told
Irwin about his wife's death. I told him her final story and asked him, 
“Were the things she told me true? I know the two of you own the local 
airport and started it together soon after WWII.” 

Irwin took Irene's picture off the shelf above the fireplace and his
eyes began to fill with tears. “Yes, all she told you is true. She was 
a pioneer in her field,” he said as he slowly sat down. “I always 
considered her a valuable part of the military in WWII, but it wasn't 
until November 23, 1977 that she and the other women who had served as 
WASPs were recognized as veterans by the U.S. War Department. When she 
received her letter of accommodation she told me her only regret as a 
WASP was that Beverly hadn't been allowed military rights at her 
funeral, she had given her life for her country just as the men had.” 

Three days later I attended Irene's funeral. The first part of the
service was held at the church she and her family had attended. Irwin, 
his daughter, and three grandchildren greeted the many people who came 
to pay their respect to Irene. They stood by a large display in the 
hallway of pictures from her childhood to death, including pictures of 
her in the military and the paper that made her an official part of the 
U.S. Air Force sent in 1977. 

The cemetery was cold and quiet with big flakes of snow gently falling.
When the minister's words were done, a small group of military men and 
women presented an honorary gun salute then folded the American flag 
that had been draped over her casket. Irwin nodded and smiled when a 
tall female soldier presented him with Irene's flag. 

*Many thanks to David for his help with this story. 


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