London, 1940
After two weeks passed and Barbara had not heard again from Jackie Cochran, she phoned her at the Cochran ranch. Floyd Odlum answered the call.
"Jackie's in Washington, fighting with our army. No war has been declared, officially, but she's gunning for a job."
"What kind of job?"
"She wants to start up a US version of the British women's Air Transport Auxiliary."
"Jackie told me about it."
"I'm to meet her in New York in a few days. At first she got flack about the idea of our women starting the same thing as the British. To relieve our pilots for war missions when we get into this mess for real. But she met with Eleanor Roosevelt and the First Lady's behind the idea all the way. Some wives have influence with their husbands, you know..."
"I've heard the rumor."
"Barbara's been talking to our friend General 'Hap' Arnold about being put in charge of figuring the whole thing out. Personnel and logistics and everything. But even Hap, and he's a supporter of this, isn't sure there are enough women pilots in America, or enough could be trained to make the project work."
"Ask her to call me, when she has a moment?" Barbara asked. "Tell her I'm more interested than ever."
Before Barbara hung up, she wanted to ask Odlum about something else.
"Remember you offered to give me some investment advice?"
"Oh yes. Certainly." Then a cloud parted in Odlum's busy head. "I almost forgot. You bought that 'worthless' Hat Farm in the desert, didn't you!" "I'm thinking of selling my airport and the desert property."
"Then you're a very lucky young woman."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I just read in the Wall Street Journal that the Marines want to build an airport out there. How'd you like to become rich?"
Barbara laughed. "Didn't Sophie Tucker say 'I've tried it poor, and I've tried it rich. Rich is better'?"
Almost before she knew it, on a bright September morning, Barbara was with twelve other young American women pilots aboard a B-24 bomber Jackie Cochran was flying from Montreal to London. During the Atlantic crossing, Barbara had time to reflect on the whirlwind that she had been in since talking to Floyd Odlum and then a few days later to Jackie.
Even while she was enroute to London, the papers were being drawn up for her to sign, selling both her airport and the "Hat Farm" desert property to the United States Marines. The price she was paid catapulted her into what Odlum predicted she would be: a very rich young woman.