Love Stories

Although this was posted last month, it suits the date that I saw it (via First Draft) today.

He was training to become a member of the Tuskegee Airmen, the nation's first military program for African-American pilots.

She was the bold, daring woman who caught his eye. At 18, she'd become the first black woman in Alabama to earn a pilot's license. She had hopes of becoming a military pilot, too.

Flying was intoxicating. It provided Herbert and Mildred a sense of freedom -- to be themselves, to dream big. The in-your-face racism of the segregated South was gone, if only for a while. In the air, the sky was literally the limit.

It's a wonderful story of "midair courtship"—

More than anything, flight provided a rare opportunity to see each other. He'd call her up on Fridays: "Are you gonna be flying this weekend?"

"... I'd see this bright yellow Cub putt-putting along," he said. "I'd be real proud: She was on time and on target."

He'd pull down and fly in formation with her. They couldn't communicate by radio; her Cub didn't have one. All they could do was smile, wave and blow kisses.

Seeing each other in flight created a bond. When they flew together, it was as if they were holding hands in midair. At the end of their aerial encounter, he'd peel away, only to circle back. He'd sneak up behind her, pull in front and leave her in a trail of airwash. Her tiny craft shook mightily. She'd come to expect it every weekend.

"It didn't faze me," she'd say. "I was the better pilot. ... I just didn't fly the fastest aircraft."

This was, of course, in the the midst of less charming history—

Mildred is counted among the history-making Tuskegee Airmen, too. Yet her dream of flying for her country was snubbed. A black woman, she was told, couldn't earn her wings.

"She was one of those unfortunate victims of prejudice, bigotry and discrimination," says Carter, now 94. "She wanted to go as high and as fast as she could.

"If she had been able to get into the Air Corps, she'd have been amazing."

Mrs. Carter lived to see filming of Red Tails start, but died last October. The previous February—

... 70 years after she earned her pilot's license, she received a letter from the government. Again she read it with astonishment, but this time she didn't rip it up. She'd been declared a member of the WASPs and given a medal with the inscription: "The First Women in History to Fly America."

And from a few days ago: another family's story, about another kind of inequality. A powerful statement of conscience that I had to play again.