CHAPTER 13 – NOT SO SWEET HOME
11:02 (Washington Time)
Friday, July 01, 1955 ‘C’
Langley Air Force Base
Virginia, United States
The ground technicians working on the F-83A fighter-bombers of the 27th Fighter Squadron/1st Fighter Wing parked along the main apron all looked up when one of them shouted in excitement.
“HEY, LOOK AT THAT F-83! IT IS PAINTED LIKE AN HAWK!”
The technicians effectively saw a F-83 fighter-bomber about to land that was wearing a very peculiar paint scheme made mostly of shades of brown and gray meant to imitate the coat of an hawk. The total effect was actually attractive to the eye while still being restrained in terms of military appearance. The F-83 was also sporting two big external drop tanks. The commander of the 1st Fighter Wing raced past the technicians in his chauffeured staff car as the F-83’s wheels touched down on the runway in a smooth landing, prompting a comment from one of the technicians.
“Hell, looks like that pilot is either a V.I.P. or is bringing someone mighty important for the boss to hurry up like this.”
“Yeah!” Said another technician. “Does anyone know what base or wing the tail code ‘EU 001’ stands for anyway?”
A graying master sergeant that had been scratching his head suddenly opened wide his eyes and mouth.
“Of course! EU 001, a paint job like an hawk: that must be ‘Lady Hawk’, Major General Dows, the commander of the 3rd Air Force in Germany. Hell, you can’t get much hotter than her as a fighter pilot.”
“That’s a fact, Sarge!” Replied enthusiastically a young mechanic. “I still have a picture of her in her tiny bathing suit taped to the inside of my locker. What a babe!”
The master sergeant winced while looking critically at the young man.
“Nice way to describe a major general, Thompson. Do you intend to ask her to autograph that picture while you are at it? I sure hope that you won’t be dumb enough to try that.”
“Uh, right, Sarge.” Said the now contrite mechanic, attracting the laughter of the other airmen around him. He then watched on with the others as the newly arriving F-83 stopped in front of a hangar and was then pulled inside it by an aircraft tractor. Fifteen minutes later, the wing commander’s staff car emerged from that hangar, sporting the red plate of a two-star general on its bumper, and drove towards the base headquarters building.
After having lunch with the commander of the 1st Fighter Wing, who was due soon to pass on his command to none other than freshly promoted Brigadier General Gertrude Meserve, Ingrid got driven to the Base Movement Section. There, she took delivery of her 1953 Porsche 550 SPYDER, which had been shipped by military air cargo from Germany in advance of her arrival in the United States. To her relief, the car’s paint had not been scratched and nothing had been stolen inside her red convertible sport car. While transferring the three pieces of luggage she had brought from Stuttgart into the trunk of her Porsche, Ingrid suddenly changed her mind and kept with her one suitcase, going to the female washrooms of the BMS building. There, she took a quick shower and changed out of her wrinkled flight suit, putting on one of her favorite outfits, a pastel blue Ao Dai traditional Vietnamese dress adorned with a large embroidered hawk on its front. Taking the time as well to comb her hair carefully and to put on some makeup and perfume, she then packed away her flight suit and left the washrooms. She was secretly satisfied to see that her new appearance caught the eyes of the men she met on her way out of the BMS building: at least she was still able to be a sexy girl, major general or not. Putting first her suitcase back in the front trunk of her car, Ingrid then took place behind the wheel and started the engine. The 4-cylinder, 1.5 liter mid-mounted engine came to life at once on turning the ignition key, roaring with its 110 horsepower output. Making heads turn on her passage, she then drove out of the storage compound and down the main street of the base towards the main gate. Once out of the base, Ingrid took Highway 17 leading to Washington, close to 320 kilometers away.
16:38 (Washington Time)
Arlington County, Virginia
Having entered Arlington County on Highway 1, Ingrid started looking for a half-decent motel or hotel that had vacant rooms as she approached the Washington National Airport: the commercial passenger jet aircraft carrying Hien and Sarah was not due to arrive from Europe for at least three more hours and she could use the time to find some accommodations in advance. She quickly encountered a string of motels that obviously catered to the travelers using the airport and, selecting the most decent-looking one, drove in the outer parking lot of the ‘National Airport Inn’, which featured a small restaurant, a souvenir shop and a Laundromat, apart from its forty or so rooms. Parking and locking her car and bringing only her purse with her, Ingrid went to the small reception office of the motel, finding there a graying man in his fifties who was watching a small television set behind the service counter. The man got up from his chair at once and smiled to her. His smile didn’t however hide the fleeting expression of surprise and curiosity on his face as he detailed her Ao Dai Vietnamese outfit.
“What may I do for you, young lady?”
“I would like to rent a room with two large beds, if you have one left available.”
The man’s smile faded somewhat then but his voice stayed polite.
“Are you expecting roommates, miss?” He asked, probably thinking that Ingrid was a college girl intent on having an intimate party with other teenagers in his motel. Ingrid kept her own smile on while taking out her driver’s license.
“I am expecting my daughter and her nanny on the flight from Paris this evening. By the way, I am 31 years old. Here is my driver’s license. Your rooms do have complete bathrooms, I hope.”
“They all have, miss.” Said the receptionist after quickly looking at the license and giving it back to Ingrid. “Excuse me for my initial mistake: you look very young for your age. Is your husband due in this evening as well?”
“I am a widow and a single mother, mister.” Said Ingrid in a neutral tone. “Do you have a room available for me?”
“Uh, yes I do, miss!” Answered the receptionist after a short hesitation: that girl was definitely out of the average mold, apart from being most beautiful. “It goes for six fifty per night. Will that do for you?”
“If I find the room adequate, yes. I will probably need it for a week or two while I search for a decent house or apartment in this area. Could I go see that room now?”
“Sure!” Replied the man, grabbing a key from a key press and then walking out from behind the counter.
The receptionist spoke again as he walked with Ingrid across the inner courtyard of his motel, on which the rooms opened.
“Moving to a new job or coming to study, miss?”
“New job. I’m in the Air Force and just got posted back from overseas. I’m probably going to work in the Pentagon.”
“Ah, yes! That place is like a city by itself, it’s so huge. You work in administration I suppose, miss?”
Ingrid couldn’t help smile at the mental picture of herself spending her days typing notes and letters: one week of that would be enough to drive her mad with boredom.
“Not exactly, mister: I’m a fighter pilot but I have been posted to a desk.”
The receptionist gave her a surprised look but didn’t comment on that and continued walking with her. He soon arrived at the entrance door of Room 36 and, unlocking it, invited Ingrid inside.
“I hope that the room will be to your satisfaction, miss.”
Ingrid entered and surveyed quickly the room and its adjacent bathroom, finding both clean and comfortable. She then faced back the expectant receptionist.
“This will be more than adequate. I will take the room.”
“Then let’s go back to the reception office, so that I can give you a second key for your nanny and make you sign the guest registry.”
Returning with the receptionist to his front office, Ingrid paid one week in advance and signed the guest registry before collecting the second room key and going out to her car. She drove her Porsche inside the inner courtyard of the motel and parked it in front of her room, then carried her luggage inside. Ingrid next took the time to take out and suspend her various uniforms and dresses in the room’s closet, so that they wouldn’t get all wrinkled. That was when she noticed the steam iron and ironing board stored inside the closet: those could come handy in the next few days. Unpacking as well the rest of her things and putting her now empty suitcases and kit bag under one of the beds, Ingrid finally left her room, locking it and making sure that her car was also secure, with its convertible top deployed and side windows up, before walking across the courtyard to go to the small restaurant that was attached to the motel.
She found the restaurant, which was more like a diner, nearly full of customers. She thus took place on one of the few stools still available along the counter as many in the restaurant stared at her and her Vietnamese dress. The waitress, a slightly overweight woman in her late thirties, came to her at once with a cup and a pot of steaming coffee.
“Coffee, miss?”
“Yes, please.” Said Ingrid tiredly while rubbing her eyes. “I have flown through quite a few time zones today.”
The waitress smiled to her as she poured her a cup of coffee.
“Most of our customers are like that, miss. Would you like to see the menu?”
“Please! Do you also have local newspapers? I have been out of touch with national news for a while.”
“Sure!” Replied the waitress, bending under the counter and fetching both a menu and a copy of the day’s edition of the Washington Post before giving both to Ingrid. The latter took the time to put sugar and cream in her coffee and to mix it before looking at the menu. It was typical of a U.S. diner’s menu, limited in choice and heavy on fat. Ingrid sighed, sorely missing Vietnamese cuisine. Her coffee also made her frown, being near tasteless compared to Arabic coffee or European Espresso coffee. She was however in the United States now and would have to adapt to the local fare. At least it was not as bad as British food, which she loathed as much as Nancy did. She was definitely going to need to find some good ethnic restaurants around Arlington soon. Finally deciding on a steak with mashed potatoes and vegetables, Ingrid gave her order to the waitress, then opened the newspaper and started reading it. Much of the newspaper was devoted to local political and criminal news, plus sports news. On page six she suddenly saw her own picture, an official one showing her in full dress uniform with medals, under a small font title.
“National heroine posted to Washington.” She read to herself. The short article attached to the picture was announcing her transfer to the Pentagon, apart from giving a brief resume of her career and accomplishments, along with her list of medals. Ingrid couldn’t help feel proud of herself then, even though she was not what someone would call a vain person: she had come a long way since when she was a simple German Luftwaffe auxiliary held as a prisoner of war by the British in 1941. She smiled at the waitress as the latter was bringing her food to her.
“Would you mind if I hold on to this copy, miss?”
“I will have to charge you an extra nickel, miss. I’m sorry but it is the restaurant’s rule.”
“No problem, miss.” Replied Ingrid, dropping a five cent coin on the counter. She then attacked her steak with gusto, being quite famished by now.
Forty minutes later, having finished her meal and paid for it, Ingrid left the restaurant with the newspaper she had bought and went to her parked car inside the motel’s courtyard. Getting in the driver’s seat and starting the engine, she backed out of her spot and drove out of the courtyard, heading towards the nearby Washington National Airport. The drive took a mere few minutes, since her motel was in direct sight of the airport, and she soon parked in the short term parking lot facing the main passenger terminal. With her purse’s carrying strap slung securely across her chest to discourage pickpockets and purse snatchers, Ingrid walked into the arrival hall of the passenger terminal and went at once to the arrival information board to check on the status of Sarah’s and Hien’s flight. It was still scheduled to arrive in a bit less than two hours, so she went to a bookstore that also sold magazines and newspapers and gazed through the shelves, taking her time. A local magazine specializing in the Washington area housing market attracted her attention after a few minutes. Grabbing it and leafing through it, Ingrid saw that it would give her many precious clues and starting points for her incoming search for a place to live, so she bought it and, sitting on a bench in the hall, started reading it with intense curiosity. She had read carefully through most of it, flagging a few pages of particular interest to her, when a loudspeaker announced the arrival of the plane carrying Sarah and Hien. Stuffing the folded magazine inside her large purse, Ingrid went to the double doors that led to the arrival gates and waited anxiously with other expectant people behind the low crowd barrier.
Ingrid’s hearth jumped with joy when Sarah emerged from the arrival processing area behind a dozen other passengers, pushing a baggage cart on which little Hien was sitting on top of their luggage, besides the travel cage containing her beloved young Dalmatian dog, Miniflick.
“HIEN, SARAH, I’M HERE!”
“MOMMY!” Shouted back Hien, who then jumped off the cart and ran to her, to be welcomed into Ingrid’s open arms. They exchanged kisses as a smiling Sarah stopped the cart besides them.
“She was a real angel during the trip. I couldn’t have asked for a nicer little girl.”
“That’s my girl alright!” Replied Ingrid, then giving a last kiss to Hien before getting up from her crouching position. “Did you have any problems with the Immigration on arrival, Sarah?”
“None! They looked carefully at my green card and at our passports but they found everything in order and stayed polite all the time with us. Miniflick was also cleared in without a problem.”
“Good! I was somewhat afraid that you would hit some redneck then. Are you hungry, Hien?”
The little girl shook her head.
“I’m just tired of sitting, Mommy. Do we have a home here?”
“Not yet, Hien, but finding one will be our first priority during my vacation. Then we will enroll you in a nice school, where you will be able to learn and play with other children. Let’s go to my car now.”
Going to the parking lot with their luggage cart, the trio loaded the suitcases and bags into the trunk of the Porsche 550 and, after Sarah had brought back the cart to an assigned collecting point, took place in the sports car. The Porsche having only two seats, that forced Sarah to sit Hien in her lap, with Miniflick sitting in turn in Hien’s lap and with its leash firmly held by Sarah, prompting a remark from Ingrid as she started the engine.
“Maybe I should have bought a more family-oriented car.”
“Don’t worry about that now, Ingrid. It will do just fine for the time being. It is one nice-looking car you have, after all.”
“I have to say that I am quite proud of it. So, what do we do first?”
“What about dropping our luggage at our hotel or motel and then drive around the area to acquaint ourselves with our new hometown?”
“A good idea. We however have to see first what the real boss says about that. What do you say, Hien?”
“We do as Sarah said.” Pronounced without hesitation the Vietnamese girl, making Ingrid giggle.
“Then, first stop: the National Airport Inn.” Said Ingrid, engaging the rear gear and backing out of her parking spot.
Going to the motel and unloading their luggage in their room took less than ten minutes. After giving the second room key to Sarah, Ingrid then took out the house market magazine she had bought at the airport and showed Sarah the few interesting prospects she had noted down already.
“I noted those four houses and five rented apartments as possible homes for us. Maybe we could drive by them this evening to have an idea of what kind of neighborhood they are situated in?”
“I agree. We may not be able to visit at this late hour but a friendly and safe neighborhood is definitely a must for Hien. I’ll do the map navigation.”
“Suit yourself!” Replied Ingrid, giving the magazine with its map to Sarah. The trio, Miniflick in leash, then returned to her car. She carefully locked their motel room before getting in the Porsche and driving out of the motel courtyard, now illuminated by a few spotlights in the evening darkness.
Their first stop was in front of a brick house on sale in the Virginia Highlands neighborhood of Arlington, close to the Pentagon. The place looked promising but no lights were visible in the house at the time. Sarah scribbled a few notes by the side of the sales advertising notice in the housing market magazine, then pointed West.
“The next place is in Arlington Village, across the highway 395 and close to Fort Myers, on 9th Street South.”
“I believe that I remember that area from my stay in 1948. We’re on our way!”
As they drove towards Arlington Village, Hien pointed out the huge mass of the Pentagon, about one kilometer away and illuminated by hundreds of lit windows.
“What is that, Mommy? It is so big.”
“That, Hien, is where I will be probably working out of after my three weeks of leave. It is called the Pentagon and is the headquarters for the American Defense Department.”
“Could I visit it, Mommy?”
“I believe that there are guided tours of the building given. I will get some information on them tomorrow, I promise.”
Satisfied with that answer, Hien kept quiet in Sarah’s lap until they stopped in front of an apartment building on 9th Street South.
“Here we are!” Announced Ingrid. “I see lights in both ground floor apartments. Shall we go see if the superintendent will let us visit at this time of the evening?”
“We might as well now that we are here.” Replied Sarah. “It will also let Hien walk a bit.”
Ingrid nodded and shut the engine, then stepped out of her car with Sarah and Hien. Sarah however kept Miniflick in her arms once out of the car. There was quite a lot of traffic along the street they were in, both pedestrian and vehicular, and the area seemed to be a middle income neighborhood. Quite a few young men in uniform were visible as well, strolling mostly in small groups along the sidewalks. One such group crossed path with the trio as it stood in front of the apartment building, examining the façade, with one young soldier whistling admiringly at Ingrid.
“Hey, babe, doing anything tonight?”
Ingrid grinned to him, not offended one bit by the unwanted invitation.
“I’m sorry, Corporal, but I’m on a house hunting trip right now for me, my daughter and my nanny.”
“Oh!” Said the soldier, a bit put off by that. His two comrades joked about his failed attempt as they walked away, making Sarah smile.
“Well, you still can attract the eyes of young men, Ingrid, something always pleasing for a woman.”
“Why wouldn’t I attract their eyes?” Replied maliciously Ingrid. “I still have a young, sexy body and a perverted mind.”
“I know! After all, I am your guardian angel, remember?” Said Sarah with a smile before leading Hien by the hand towards the entrance of the apartment building. A sign at the entrance told them that inquiries about renting an apartment were to be directed to the superintendent in apartment number one, so they entered and went to the said door, with Ingrid knocking three times on it. A fat man in trousers and undershirt answered the door, eyeing the two young women and the little Asian girl with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
“Yes?”
“We saw the advertising for a three-bedroom apartment and we were hoping that we could visit. I know that the hour is late but we just arrived by plane from overseas this evening.”
“Is your husband still overseas, miss?”
“I am actually a widow and a single mother, mister. This is my daughter’s nanny.”
“Daughter? Nanny?” Said the man, apparently slow to understand. “How old are you, miss?”
“I am 31. I know that I look younger than that but…”
The man interrupted her as he now looked at her dubiously.
“Thirty-one, you say? I’m sorry, miss, but we only accept normal families in this building. Good night!”
He then slammed the door in Ingrid’s face, making her clinch her teeth with anger, while Miniflick growled at the now closed door.
“What the hell did he mean, normal families?”
“Let’s go: this place is obviously not suited to us.” Said Sarah somberly. She then nudged Ingrid, who was still pissed, towards the exit. Once they were back on the sidewalk she faced Ingrid and spoke in a low voice.
“I saw in his mind what he was thinking: the man took us for a couple of young lesbians.”
“What is a lesbian, Sarah?” Cut in Hien innocently while looking up at her. Sarah looked at Ingrid, who then crouched in front of her stepdaughter.
“A lesbian is a woman who loves other women instead of men. Another term for that is ‘homosexual’ and that one also applies to men who love men instead of women.”
“Is it bad to be a lesbian, Mommy?” Asked Hien in her little voice, presenting a dilemma to Ingrid then. The little girl was obviously still way too young to understand about sexuality but Ingrid didn’t want either to lie to her or to confuse her with an evasive answer.
“Most people consider it abnormal to be a lesbian or a homosexual, Hien. Many will even react angrily at them and call them bad names. There are even laws against them in many places. Being a lesbian or a homosexual is however a personal trait, Hien, and should be the sole business of the person involved. While considered different by others, they can still be as much good people as the so-called normal people. They may be different but they are not bad because of it, the same way you are physically different from most American children but are still as valuable and worthy as them. This is however a topic that you should not discuss with other persons apart from us: many people would react badly to you talking about that.”
“Why?” Asked quietly Hien while staring at Ingrid with her big brown eyes. Ingrid smiled gently to her while caressing her face with both hands.
“Because people often have a hard time accepting other people that are different or appear to be so, Hien. This is very much so in the United States, especially against black people.”
“Then why did we come to live here, Mommy?”
Ingrid, struck by the truth in those words, could only look up at Sarah, who was nodding her head gravely.
“Oh, the wisdom of innocence. I think that we should limit ourselves to houses instead of apartments, Ingrid: we won’t be as bothered if in a house of our own.”
“I think that you’re right, Sarah. Let’s go!”
Getting back in the Porsche, the two women and one girl then resumed their tour, but limiting this time their visits to detached houses available for sale. That limited a lot the choice, with only two more houses to visit. The last one, a bungalow with garage situated near Fort Scott Park in Aurora Hills, less than three kilometers south of the Pentagon, looked particularly promising. Its rear courtyard was fenced in by a white wooden palisade surrounding a ground lot of very respectable size that also included two grown trees, while a public playground sat in nearby Fort Scott Park. The sight of the swing sets and slides was enough to excite Hien despite her obvious fatigue.
“Could we stop and play a bit there, Mommy?”
“Hell, why not?” Said Ingrid, who then parked on the street in front of the playground. Hien ran to the slides as soon as Sarah let her out of the car, closely followed by her dog, and was happily sliding down one of them as Ingrid and Sarah joined her in the playground. Ingrid looked around her, examining the neighborhood as Sarah helped Hien by pushing her swing and making her squeal with joy. The area seemed peaceful enough, even though there was some noise from both the nearby Jefferson-Davis Highway and the Washington National Airport. It also looked to be upper middle class and both the park and the streets appeared well maintained and clean. A police patrol car appeared after ten minutes, slowing down briefly to look at them before continuing its patrol. When the time came to bring the tired girl to the motel, Ingrid had made her mind to investigate the nearby house on sale as her first priority. Being all but numbed by their long flights, Ingrid and Hien went to sleep quickly once back at the motel, with Ingrid happily hugging her little daughter while sleeping besides her. As for Sarah, since an angel never needed to sleep, except to keep the appearance of being human, she simply sat in an easy chair in the dark, as vigilant as ever. As for Miniflick, he elected to sleep on the bed, at the feet of Hien, his favorite position.
10:48 (Washington Time)
Saturday, July 2, 1955 ‘C’
South Grove Street, Aurora Hills
Arlington, Virginia
Ingrid didn’t miss the expression of bewilderment that appeared for a moment on the face of the real estate agent waiting besides his car in the driveway of the bungalow when he saw her, Sarah and Hien get out of the Porsche with Miniflick. He had probably expected a respectable middle aged couple instead of two young women and a small Asian girl with a dog. The man, wearing a brown suit and tie, nonetheless greeted her politely and with professional enthusiasm, shaking hands with both Ingrid and Sarah while Miniflick sniffed his shoes.
“Good morning, ladies! I’m Nathan Hodges, real estate agent from McAllister Estate Services. Which one of you is the prospective buyer, if I may ask?”
“I am!” Said Ingrid at once. “My name is Ingrid Dows and this is Sarah Ur, nanny for my little daughter Hien. I am in the Air Force and have just been transferred to the Pentagon after serving overseas. I served in California before but most of my recent service time has been spent overseas, so I’m unfamiliar with the housing market in the continental United States. In fact, I never owned a house before, having lived out of base officers quarters during my whole career.”
Which could not have been a long one, thought the real estate agent while examining her beautiful but also very young face. Raising a clipboard on which forms were attached, he smiled to Ingrid, ready to write down information about her.
“Well, there is a first for everything, Miss Dows. Do you mind if I ask first a few questions so that a credit check could be done quickly once you decide if you want to buy this house?”
“Not at all, Mister Hodges. Shoot!”
“Thank you, miss. First, may I have your full name and marital status?”
“My actual name is Ingrid Maria Louise Dows, born Weiss. I am widowed. My husband was killed by the Japanese in the Philippines in 1942.”
Dismay showed on the agent’s face then.
“Uh, what is your date of birth, miss?”
Ingrid answered by giving him her official birth date as written in her military personnel file, which put her as two years older than what she really was biologically.
“I was born on September 7, 1923, in Berlin, Germany. I am 31 years old right now. I know that I have a baby face but I can explain that. Here are my driver’s license and my military identity card.”
Hodges examined carefully both cards and noted down some information on his forms, then gave her back her cards before asking another question.
“What is your military specialty, miss, along with your rank?”
“I am a fighter pilot, with the rank of major general, mister.”
“Uh, you’re not by any chance…” Started to ask the stunned man.
“Yes, I am THE General Dows who kicked the shit out of the Soviets in Europe two years ago, Mister Hodges.”
From polite but hesitant, Hodges then became downright enthusiastic about this prospective sale, scribbling a note on his form before looking back at Ingrid.
“It is truly an honor to meet you, General! You know that the listed price for this house, including the ground lot, is 19,800 dollars? Is this within your desired price range? I know a few less expensive houses if you prefer.”
Ingrid thought that over for a short moment. The price quoted by Hodges represented about six years of salary for the average American worker these days and would be a bit stiff for most young professionals. She however had spent very little of her respectable pay during her military career, having been fighting in a succession of wars for so many years. She also had barely touched the money from the royalties earned by