BecDeCorbin

Nolan County, Texas 1944 This had never been America’s war—Jo Karrel knew that. Uncle Sam had come late to the fight and only after a lot of reluctance and hand-wringing; he hadn’t started this clash, but by God, he was going to finish it, according the inescapable propaganda. Though the current situation might have been tense, she was one of those young women who took adversity in stride. Four miles ahead of her, another B-24 Liberator like the one she flew in plowed the clear air, leaving the merest haze of exhaust in its wake. Four miles behind was another olive-drab bomber fresh from the plant in Oklahoma. This time, like all times, Jo Karrel didn’t make the trip alone. Smyrna Pearson occupied the pilot’s seat with Jo ready to assume control at a moment. Or, that was the understanding when they powered up the ship and thundered aloft into the Oklahoma sky. Jo had climbed feeling something was off about the engines. A shudder somewhere. To this, Smyrna had few remarks