Dark Chronicles of Nooria 7

I continue, "now some other Bomb Group got to Astra Romana ahead of us, bombed it by mistake. It's a sight. Some of those smokestacks are over 100 feet high, we're gonna skim over the tops of them. Starboard side, a plane runs into one, massive fireball explosion. Flames all about, huge columns of thick black smoke, intel says maybe 250 anti-aircraft guns down there, the famous 88 mm, unestimated number of machine guns. All seem to be aiming at my plane, Everglade Erin. I have to make 5 passes through the soup before I can find the A4 pumphouse. Bombardier lands em picture perfect and we turn for home, North Africa that is. By this time, lotta German fighters in the air, chasing them who exit alive from the target. Gotta fly real low, makes it impossible for them to swoop on you accurately. I land back in North Africa, stagger in, awful landing, 2 engines gone out of 4. Plane looks like a Swiss Cheese, with all the holes. Rear turret and midfuselage one totally destroyed. I got cornstalks stuck in my bombbay doors, that's how low I was flying. At this point, only 3 left alive of my 10-man crew; myself, my friend Sgt Hunnicutt as nose gunner and brand-new first mission ever bombardier. I turn off the engines and the silence is deafening. The bombardier has a strange look on his face, like he's high on drugs. Draws his pistol, shoots Sgt Hunnicutt, then shoots himself. Me, I'm now crying, know what comes next, MP's will question me for days on the murder-suicide.
"Our Bomb Group, the 98th, 40 planes left, only 19 came back. 10 of these, class E damage, meaning total writeoff. So 9 planes left usable out of 40. What a mess!"
Teacher asks, "you remember a name, a rank?"
"Yes ma'am, Captain Robert E Lee Beauregard of Baton Rouge, Louisiana."
The girls all stare in awe. Quietly teacher says, "historically correct, including obscure stuff that'd be hard to find in books. You do have unusual dreams, Nooria, fascinating amount of detail."

Lunchtime, Shauzia says quietly, "Nooria, you got any more of those dreams, better not say."
"How so?"
"Watched Arezou as you spoke, bigtime ticked. See she's the macho one, not you. She'd be happier if you dreamed of being a champion lacemaker."
"Ridiculous, just cause I'm small, gotta ..."
"Yes dear, how it is. She's macho, not you, remember."
Arezou takes my hand as we head back to class. Smug look, "major, captain. Don't you ever dream of being an enlisted? Or the Queen's hairdresser? Oh, I see how it works. See just so much horror in your life, dreams are an escape. A chance to be someone important, instead of just another victim."
Good a theory as any.
She continues, "but what puzzles me, you aren't a superhero in those dreams. In fact, the major, the captain, had as much horror as you, probably more. So maybe the dreams mean something."
"Don't you ever get dreams, Arezou?"
"Hardly ever remember, those I do, 1/20 of the detail of yours. So you and me, both been through horrible stuff, yet I emote right and you don't. Wonder why?"
"Like anything Arezou, why is one person more susceptible to cancer than another? God's will."
"So," she smiles, "why don't you start acting a little more feminine?"
"Come on Arezou, in this navy uniform? They took away my floral dress."
"Can't imagine you in a floral dress. Love to see it though. I know, we're dressed like men, 2 sailors, gay sailors."
I burst out laughing and she hugs me.
"There, you gotta laugh more often, look beautiful when you laugh."

We arrive a couple minutes early for history. Teacher calls me aside, and yes Arezou looks jealous.
"Went to the library last night child." She opens a book, there's several graphic pictures of Ploesti. And then I see it, that's my plane, Everglade Erin, can tell from the position. I point to it.
"That picture ma'am, rings a bell."
She turns to the captions, all on a page behind the photos, reads, "Everglade Erin, commanded by Captain Robert E Lee Beauregard, on final approach attacking the A4 pumphouse. August 1, 1943, 98th Bomb Group low-level assault on Astra Romana, Ploesti's largest refinery. Photo taken aboard Dagwood the Dragon."
She grins, "you weren't joking, those wings are barely skimming the smokestacks, awesome flying."

After school, before supper, we're back in B14 relaxing. Arezou is exchanging stories with the macho set.
Shauzia comes over, sits, "come on, put yourself in the hands of an expert. I'm gonna take that stringy hair, show you a half-dozen ways it could look better."
As she works, I look at each finished product. Yes looks nice, but just not me.
Arezou comes over, "leave it at that last one. Beautiful."
Shauzia smiles, doesn't bother to ask me, "glad you like it," she gushes.
Arezou lays down the law, "that's how I want it done each day. Teach her, Shauzia."
I open my mouth to rip at Arezou for her attitude. Too late. Arifa, standing nearby, is already talking, "you're right Arezou, style is most beautiful on her." What can I say?
Arezou drifts away with her gang.
"Don't worry, Nooria, lot easier than you think, you can get this look in 2 minutes."
"But that's a real macho pig attitude," I say quietly.
"Of course dear, all are that way. Now put your right hand like this and ..."
Arezou comes back, theatrically kisses my hand, "shall we dine?" Maybe it isn't all bad, does have its compensations.
At supper Arezou says, "that really does it. Softens up the hard look of the uniform." With that, she's back talking to her friends.
Shauzia's look says it all. What-can-you-do? All-are-like-that. I roll my eyes, she winks.

Morning I discover Shauzia was right. Easy, I go out to face our forgotten little corner of the world with the new-me look.
I overhear Gulazar tell Arezou, "bout time you talked some sense into her. Good look like that, why waste it?"
Arezou replies airily, "I don't blame her. When you chip bodies, lose track of appearance. Takes a while to get back at it."
Back at it? What a joke! As if I was ever into appearance before. This is ridiculous, as I think of Mrs Morningchild and Chatelaine. So you gotta do this nonsense anyway - for guy or girl. Stop the world - I wanna get off it.
Still guess everything is relative. Don't hafta worry over makeup, is none. Don't hafta worry clothes, same alla time. Tell any modern woman your beauty routine is 2 minutes a day and she'll just laugh, tell you how lucky you are.
With that thought, my resentment to Arezou vanishes. After all, compare her to boys in Saskatoon or Lilac Valley. Yeah, bit of an odd attitude, but decent and kind.

It's the weekend, Thursday and Friday here. After Thursday breakfast, Arezou and I go out for a walk, weather being nice.
"I'm proud of you," she says "lot done in a week. Now, wanna talk real serious? Or just relax?"
"Better keep it light and easy today."
"Nooria, funny thing, at the start I could tell you resented me. Then it just vanished, just like that. Didn't come back."
I nod, pointless to argue now.
She continues, "so what do you think of the organization? Wanna join when you grow up?"
"Why would they want me?"
"You're joking. English better than the officers here, you'll be a Lieutenant on your 17th birthday."
"They say it doesn't pay well."
"True, about $30 US a month, in rupees. But hey, uniforms, medical, board and room, all free. Figger that and it's alla same as them who gets $75 and buy everything."