“The whole process requires attention and skill and three people to keep it all going. Now pick a station with your crew, and we’ll get started.”
We took a station next to Blanche, Martha, and Frankie.
“Hey, gals, how were your driving exams?” Frankie asked. “Martha here was an ace—all that tractor driving, even the GIs were impressed. Blanche and I did okay in the end; we all passed easily. I saw you stalled out on that hill at Griffiss yesterday, Fiona, and I wanted to come over to help; I felt so bad. Did your instructor pass you?”
“Yes,” I said. Just at that moment, Miss Chambers walked by, checking our machines to make sure the heat switch was on, and I saw her take note of this comment. I tried to shush Frankie with my eyes, but of course she was so busy fiddling with the doughnut machine, she didn’t even notice.
“And Dottie told me about how you went off the road and almost hit a deer?” Frankie said, cringing. “You’re so lucky he still passed you. Thank God you won’t need to drive unless you’re shipped to the Continent. Sounds like you’re going to need some more practice before that.”
Miss Chambers had moved on to other groups, but I was sure she had heard that too.
Dottie looked at me, apologizing with her eyes. She was about to speak when Blanche, lowering her voice, said, “Um, Frankie, honey, I think Fiona is too polite to tell you to shut your trap.” She put a hand on her shoulder. “She doesn’t want Miss Chambers hearing anything that will keep her from getting to the Continent at some point, you know?”
Frankie dropped the doughnut tongs she was holding, and her hand flew up to her mouth.
“Oh, Fi, I’m so sorry. I was just going to offer to go driving with you, to help you if I could,” she said, and I knew she felt terrible. “But I don’t think she heard me.”
“No, she was only two feet from you. Of course she didn’t hear,” Viv said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.
“It’s fine, Frankie,” I said, my voice tight. “And I don’t need you to go driving with me. Thanks anyway.” After our talk on the roof, I understood why Frankie was so gung ho, but I couldn’t help but be annoyed by the driving critique right in front of Miss Chambers. I was sure she had heard every word.
“Now, ladies, first mix the dough in the large metal cylinder bowls on your station,” Miss Chambers said, standing at a doughnut station at the front of the room again. “To turn the premade mix into dough, you must weigh the doughnut flour and water carefully and take the temperatures of both. There’s instructions at your stations, so let’s get started.”
“Wait, so we’re in the field, there are four hundred GIs waiting in line for doughnuts, but we have to weigh and take the temperature of the water and flour every time? Is she serious?” Dottie said this to us in a soft voice as we placed the flour on a tiny scale.
“I know, that seems crazy,” I said.
“Water that’s too cold will make the doughnuts absorb too much fat,” explained Miss Chambers, as she walked around the room. “Water that’s too warm will make them even worse, so you’ve got to get it just right. Once you’ve got the measurements and temps right, you can start mixing.”
“Um, Miss Chambers?” Viv said, smiling sweetly at our instructor.
“Yes, Viviana?” Miss Chambers answered, walking over to our station.
“We’re ready to pour everything in the cylinder bowl, but I don’t see anything to mix with. What should we use?” Viv said.
“You’ve got six hands between the three of you. That’s what you mix with,” Miss Chambers said, amused.
“Oh no, there’s got to be a better way,” Viv said, stepping back from the bowl in horror.
Miss Chambers shook her head. “No other way,” she said. She pointed to the sifted flour and water. “Now mix them together with your hands. Go ahead, I’ll walk the group through it.”
“Me?” Viv asked. “Mix it by hand?” She was appalled at the thought as she looked at Miss Chambers and then down at her perfectly manicured crimson nails.
“Go ahead, Viv,” I said, biting my lip to keep from laughing.
“Yeah, Viv, go ahead. Show us how it’s done,” Dottie chimed in, also trying too hard to remain serious.
“Yes, dear, let’s go,” Miss Chambers said, growing impatient at Viv’s hesitation.
Viv grimaced as she poured the water and flour together. She stared into the mixture with dread, took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and plunged her beautiful hands in. Dottie and I could not even look at each other because we were both about to burst into laughter. Poor Princess Viv.
“That’s it, really get in there,” Judith Chambers said, towering over Viv as she peered into the bowl. “Those lumps that you feel? That’s the sugar and eggs in the mix that make a good doughnut. You’ve got to work those lumps out of the dough.”
“Work them out, Viv,” Blanche said, and I realized she, Frankie, and Martha were also enjoying the show.
When Miss Chambers was satisfied with the job Viv was doing, she moved on to help the other groups. As soon as she walked away, we all burst into laughter.
“Yeah, yeah, have a good laugh. You gals all happy now?” Viv said, scowling at us with dramatic flair. “You better watch out, or I’ll throw a lump at one of you. I cannot believe we have to do this in the field. I can’t believe I have to do this to my nails.” She pulled one of her hands out of the bowl. It was a gooey mess. “Oh my God! Look at this; it’s totally stripped my nail polish already. These doughnuts are going to be chock-full of bright-red nail polish chips.”
“And made with love by a Clubmobile girl,” I said, as we all continued laughing.
“Love is not the word I had in mind,” Viv said. “This is disgusting.”
“Okay, if your dough is mixed, attach the cylinder to the machine very carefully; it’s finally time to make the doughnuts,” Miss Chambers said to the group. She clapped her hands and, in a sing-song tone, added, “Get your tongs ready to go.”
We attached the pressurized cylinder to the machine as best we could, although it didn’t seem to be secure enough.
“Do you think that’s on?” I asked Dottie as we struggled to screw it in.
“I think so.” Dottie shrugged. Viv was pouting, trying to wipe all the dough off her hands.
And then, like a small miracle, the dough poured from the cylinder and started dropping into the oil in perfectly shaped circles. Dottie stood at the ready with her tongs, grabbing the doughnuts out of the oil and throwing them onto the cooling rack when they had achieved a golden-brown color. The garage filled with warm, humid air and an overpowering sickening-sweet fragrance as all the groups churned out dozens of doughnuts.
“Blech. Think we’ll get used to the smell?” Martha said from the next station, covering her mouth with her hands. “It’s making me nauseous.”
“Me too,” I said. “Maybe our noses will get numb to it.”
“What’s that hissing sound?” Viv asked, finally recovering from her mixing trauma and helping Dottie.
I heard a high-pitched whistle coming from somewhere in our machine.
“I don’t know, that sounds weird,” I said, trying to find the source. “Miss Chambers, our machine is hissing. Is that normal?” I called over to where she was helping some girls whose machine had already malfunctioned.
Miss Chambers whipped her head around at the question and, with a look of fear on her face, yelled to us, “Back away! Get away from that machine now!”
We all ran several feet back just as the hiss turned into an enormous boom and the cylinder bowl of dough flew off the machine and exploded into the air. Several girls screamed, and the three of us ducked and tried to shield each other from what was to come. The cylinder came crashing down with a loud clang, warped beyond repair.
So much dough. On our station, on the floor. On our clothes and aprons, even in our hair. It covered Dottie’s shoes and splattered the front of Viv’s shirt. I looked over and saw that the dough had hit Blanche, Martha, and Frankie’s station as well. The rest of the girls in the garage stared in horror, and the smell of extra greasy, overcooked doughnuts filled the room as several groups forgot to take theirs out of the oil in time.
Miss Chambers came running over. “Are you all okay?” she asked, taking a deep breath and surveying the damage.
“What the heck just happened?” Dottie asked. “It was all going so well and then—”
“You didn’t follow the directions,” Miss Chambers said with a sigh. “You need to secure the pressurized cylinder correctly, or it can blow up. That’s what happened.”
“Let this be a lesson for all of you,” Miss Chambers said to the group. “Now, clean this mess up, ladies. When you finish, you can join the next station for the rest of training.”
I rubbed my hands over my face, wiping a gob of dough off my cheek. Viv, Dottie, and I looked at each other. I was somewhere between crying and laughing. There was no doubt the three of us were making an impression on Miss Chambers, but not exactly the one I had planned.
Chapter Eight