CHAPTER THREE
THE USO PARTY
All the next day, though Kitty had many obligations and numerous things on her mind, her thoughts continually returned to the peculiar circumstances of her boat ride from town. There was something very mysterious about the whole business. She felt certain her father had evaded telling her all he might have. Was the new nurse involved in some mystery?
Suddenly Kitty recalled Brad’s worried expression at the meeting of the two. He looked like one who suspected the cause of the disharmony. Though she could not question Nurse Dawson there was no reason why she shouldn’t talk to Brad about what had happened. Maybe she would see him at the USO party Saturday night.
As she dressed for the party the following night, Kitty’s thoughts were busy with what she would say to Brad. All the girls were wearing gay evening clothes, even though they were pre-war gowns, for this made the occasion seem festive for the boys.
Vera Parsons, a member of the Motor Corps, who drove the station wagon around to collect the girls for the USO parties, honked before Kitty had quite finished dressing. She threw her coat around her shoulders, caught up the skirt of the fluffy evening dress of pale yellow, and hurried toward the front door.
She felt buoyantly happy as she kissed Billy good night and joined the girls. Life had become an interesting adventure once more, with a goal to work toward. She had the happy feeling of one who had at last found a niche into which she fitted perfectly.
Kitty had been to only one other USO dance, for she had been in no mood for parties when she first joined her father on the island. She missed her Aunt Nina too keenly. It was Vera Parsons who made her realize these dances were not like most others. She would not be going merely for her own pleasure, but to help the boys forget they were homesick and lonely and still had a big job ahead of them.
“You know they won’t allow just any sort of girl to go to these dances,” Vera told her. “Only those of the highest caliber. They’re not always easy to find, especially on an island as small as Palmetto. We need all the nice girls we can get to help us out.”
So Kitty had attended the dance last Tuesday, and enjoyed it immensely. It was then she had noticed, though only casually, the Snack Bar which the Canteen operated. Tonight she planned to give the bar more than a brief inspection, and to get acquainted with the workers.
Vera knew all the girls and introduced Kitty. She had been on the island a year and was acquainted with everyone who was helping with war work. Vera was a most capable girl, large and rather muscular, but with such a wholesome attitude Kitty warmed to her at once. She had come upon her the first time on a sandy road running through a palmetto thicket. Vera was changing a tire with as much ease as a garage mechanic. Kitty later learned that she was the type of girl who doesn’t hesitate to put her hands to any task. Her reddish brown hair, snapping brown eyes and gusty manner won her friends wherever she went.
“Well, Kitty Carter’s soon going to be one of you!” was her method of introducing the Canteen candidate to the girls behind the Snack Bar. “Kitty, this is Mrs. Evans. She’s Chairman of the Corps over here, and this is Sally Bright and Judy Conner.”
“We’ll surely be glad to have you,” spoke up Mrs. Evans, a thin, sprightly woman in her fifties. Though much older than the other two, she was still young enough in spirit to be comradely.
“I can hardly wait to begin my training,” said Kitty, perching on one of the stools, and leaning her elbows on the counter.
“When do you start?” asked Sally.
“We’ll Be Glad to Have You,” Mrs. Evans Said
“Monday. The nutrition class first.”
“Yes, that must come first,” Mrs. Evans told her. “It’s a prerequisite to the Canteen course. We have to know a lot about food since our job is feeding people under all sorts of circumstances.”
“And we have to know how to wash a stack of dishes as high as the Washington Monument,” put in Judy Conner with a groan.
“Fortunately no one has to do that all the time,” Mrs. Evans explained. “We take turns doing the different tasks so everyone has an opportunity to gain all-round experience.”
“I’m always glad when it comes my turn to make out menus,” said Judy. “But Sally actually likes to clean up. Can you imagine that?”
Sally’s button nose wrinkled as her round face spread into a grin. “Strange, but true. I like to bring order out of chaos.”
“Isn’t it wonderful that we have a group where different ones like to do different things?” said Mrs. Evans happily.
“I like to cook,” Kitty told them. “I like experimenting and creating new concoctions and trying out new recipes.”
“I’m afraid there won’t be much opportunity for new dishes in this work, but you’ll be given plenty of opportunity to cook if you like that.”
Kitty glanced at Sally with a look of appreciation. “But I just can’t imagine anyone really liking to clean a kitchen.”
“They’re rare birds,” giggled Judy.
“It gives my esthetic nature a keen satisfaction to leave a kitchen spick-and-span after the hullabaloo is over,” Sally explained.
“Sometimes she is too anxious to clean,” Judy reported. “She has a way of cleaning up bowls and spoons before the cooks have finished with ’em.”
Sally went back to the kitchen to end their teasing, and Kitty asked, “Is the nutrition course very hard?”
“Oh, no. Miss Pearson makes it very interesting. You learn all about food needs in emergencies and food values for all times,” explained Mrs. Evans.
“I guess we could all learn a lot about that.”
“Indeed we could! Part of our work, too, is giving instructions and demonstrations to people. Good health and sane living are so dependent on proper diet.”
“More so than most people will admit,” said Judy. “You’ll learn about that in nutrition class.”
“Well, it seems I’m in line to learn lots that will help me even after the war is won,” Kitty answered, and she felt her interest and anticipation in the work increasing.
“The most exciting part of the work comes at the time of an emergency,” explained Mrs. Evans. “I helped once during a flood out in Mississippi. That was when I first went into Canteen work.”
“When we read about such things in the papers they seem so unreal and far away,” said Kitty, suddenly feeling a great sense of responsibility in her new undertaking. She realized now that a Canteen worker must have the courage and endurance of a true soldier if she was to fulfill her obligations.
There was much more she wanted to ask Mrs. Evans and the girls, but at that moment the band began playing and Jimmy Barnes, a young storekeeper, came to ask her to dance with him.
The second dance had just begun when someone tapped her partner on the shoulder. Kitty looked over the sailor’s shoulder to see the spotless white of a Naval officer’s uniform. She was surprised to recognize Lieutenant Cary.
She could not suppress a startled exclamation, “Oh, you?”
“Sorry to break in, but I had to apologize for leaving yesterday at the dock without telling you how much I appreciated the ride from town, but I was late for an appointment.”
“Oh, that was O.K. Dad had told me to phone so we’d have a way of getting Miss Dawson’s bags up from the dock.”
“So she’s an old friend?”
Though the young doctor’s words seemed harmless enough Kitty was instantly on the defensive. Guardedly she replied, “I never saw her till yesterday.”
“Though you met her at the train?”
Kitty noticed how blond the Lieutenant’s eyebrows were when he lifted them with a skeptical expression. She made no reply to his last remark, not knowing how best to speak.
He seemed to take the hint that the subject was closed, and after an interval said, “You dance beautifully.”
“Thanks.”
“You look charming tonight,” he persisted.
She flushed in spite of not wanting him to pay her compliments. She was about to make a pert retort when she reminded herself that he, too, was in the service, even though she disliked him personally. After all she had come here to try to make these men who were serving her country a bit happier. Suddenly she caught sight of Brad watching her with a puzzled expression.
To her relief the band crashed out the finale at that moment, and Brad came to claim her for the next dance.
“So glad you came,” Kitty said cordially.
“No gladder than I am.” He grinned as he looked her over with a sauciness at which no one could take offense. Then he whistled softly.
“Gosh, but you look like a dream walking!”
“But I came here to dance, not walk.”
“You didn’t come here to dance with Lieutenant Cary from now on if I have anything to do with it.”
“Why he dances divinely.” Kitty found herself defending the man she didn’t like just to take Brad down a peg or two.
“Maybe he learned his dance steps where the great Strauss waltzes were born.” Brad glanced around before he added “Vienna.”
“You mean?”
“We can’t talk here,” he warned quietly.
“I wanted to talk to you about something, too.”
“Did you?” he asked eagerly.
He took her arm and started toward the rear door. Some steps led down to a court with a fountain in the center and natural palms around it. There were dim lights, and a hostess to make everyone welcome.
Brad found a seat at the far end where the lights were dimmed enough for them to catch a glimpse of the stars. Kitty glanced around to be sure that no one else was within hearing distance.
“Brad, did you notice anything odd yesterday when I introduced Nurse Dawson to Lieutenant Cary?”
“Plenty!” He spoke the word with significance.
“They seemed to have an innate animosity for each other when obviously they had never met before.”
“If you ask me, Kitty, it was a blow to Lieutenant Cary to discover Ensign Dawson on her way to Bernard Hospital.”
“But why?”
“Well, I hardly know how to tell you. It seems so intangible—sort of hunch.”
“It must be a mighty big hunch, for I have the same sort of feeling that something’s wrong somewhere. Miss Dawson looked so sort of burdened.”
“Guess she has enough to make her feel depressed and definitely self-conscious at being sent to this hospital of all places.”
“Why?”
“Something happened while her brother was here. He left under a sort of shadow. Was shipped off to Santiago.”
“You mean he almost got a bob-tail?”
“Well, not quite. But I heard things were terribly mixed up in his work. He was Chief Pharmacist’s Mate like your dad.”
“I wonder what was wrong?”
“That’s what I haven’t been able to find out. But on several occasions I heard him and Lieutenant Cary having rather hot arguments. I could never get to the root of their trouble.”
“Then you think Lieutenant Cary had something to do with Dawson’s leaving the hospital?”
“I’m convinced of it.”
“Did you know him very well?”
“I wasn’t there long before he left, but I liked him an awful lot.”
“Naturally Lieutenant Cary would resent Nurse Dawson being sent to the same base.”
“And he didn’t make any bones about showing it,” said Brad in disgust.
Kitty watched some couples go back to the dance hall as the band struck up again. After an interval she said, “Brad, I believe Dad knows something about all this.”
“He ought to, if anyone does. They put him in the position Dawson had filled.”
“He shut up like a clam when I told him what happened in the launch yesterday.”
Kitty sat turning the opal ring on her third finger, as she puzzled over the complications.
“You have nice hands—capable,” Brad told her.
“That’s from all the years of piano practice. You have to have piano, you know, along with voice training.”
“Some time will you sing for me?”
She smiled up into his eager eyes. “I’d love to. But right now, Brad, I can’t think of anything but this queer business we’ve stumbled on. I have a queer feeling it may mean real trouble at the hospital.”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s anything as serious as that. But I’ll tell you frankly I don’t trust Lieutenant Cary. He’s a man who’ll bear watching, all right. I heard that just a year before the war broke out he was studying surgery in Vienna and Berlin.”
CHAPTER FOUR
EMERGENCY FEEDING
Kitty was glad the sun was shining brightly Monday morning when she ran to the window to look out. She felt eager and ready to tackle the toughest sort of job. She could face her friends with new assurance now, for she was soon to be a part of the great army of workers dedicated to restoring peace to a troubled world.
For a while at least, while their gasoline allowance lasted, she was going back and forth in the launch, as that would save at least an hour each day in transportation time. Two other girls from the island were going to take the course with her and share those rides, so she felt justified in the use of gasoline. She had spent the early years of her life on the Gulf coast and was perfectly at home on the water. And how she loved it!
Vera Parsons had decided to add the Canteen course to her other lines of service, and Sally Bright’s sister, Lana, was joining also.
“I hope the course won’t be too dry,” mused Lana, when they were crossing the bay that first morning.
“It won’t be if Miss Pearson’s in charge,” Vera assured her. “She could put pep into a snail.”
“I wish I could begin work right now,” said Kitty. “I don’t see how I’ll have patience to wait to finish the courses.”
“There’s nothing to keep you from helping right now,” Vera told her. “There’re lots of Canteen Aides.”
“Canteen Aides?”
“Girls who haven’t taken the courses but do volunteer work in emergencies.”
“Oh, that’s great! I want to get into it as soon as possible. I’ve felt like a shirker these last weeks.”
“I don’t see why you call yourself a shirker,” consoled Lana. “With a kid brother, a dad and a cottage to look after, I should think you’d have your hands full.”
The nutrition classes were being held in the Power Company’s demonstration kitchen. The trio from Palmetto Island found about thirty women and girls gathered when they arrived. Miss Pearson, spotless in her attractive uniform, was already giving out mimeographed sheets for study. All the seats toward the back were taken, but Kitty and her friends found folding chairs near the demonstration table, where Miss Pearson had her materials spread out.
Kitty thought how easy it was to slip into the old habit of making notes at lectures when she took a notebook and fountain pen from her purse. Miss Pearson had not been lecturing half an hour when Kitty realized how valuable the classes were going to be. She could use the information now and long after the war.
“I want to sketch briefly what we must cover in this course,” Miss Pearson began. “As a foundation every one must know the requirements of good nutrition, and the value of different kinds of food.”
Kitty thought how little attention she had paid to such matters in the years she had been concentrating on her music. She had eaten what was put before her at school, and had given no heed to it unless she became ill and the doctor restricted her diet.
When Miss Pearson mentioned that she would give assistance in planning menus to fit food rationing situations Kitty was really delighted. That planning had been a mathematical problem to her ever since she had started housekeeping.
Field trips to large kitchens of the community, and to food preserving plants promised interesting diversions to classroom activities.
“Tomorrow morning I’ve arranged for us to visit the Bayshore Bakery after class,” Miss Pearson told them. “There you’ll learn a little about mass production. You see we have to be prepared to cook large quantities of food in times of emergency.”
Kitty saw that there was going to be real work, also, in the course. At the bottom of their instruction sheets were some questions that must be answered next day in class.
“We can discuss these going and coming in the boat,” Kitty suggested to her friends as they were going out.
“I really think it’s going to be fun,” Lana said.
“And very valuable, too,” said Kitty.
“I noticed a couple of women from over at the oyster cannery settlement,” said Vera. “Every woman over there ought to be taking this course for the good of her family. Miss Pearson is going to show us how to make a little bit go a long way.”
“That’s surely something we can all use,” said Kitty.
Their excursion to the bakery was followed by a visit to the oyster cannery, the community cannery, a near-by cafeteria kitchen, and to a school lunchroom, which was most efficiently organized.
“Every person in that lunchroom took our nutrition course when I first gave it,” explained Miss Pearson.
Kitty found it hard to believe at the end of the first week that half her nutrition course was already complete. She had enjoyed every minute of it. To be a part of a great scheme like this, in which everyone was cooperating for the general welfare gave her a glow of satisfaction. She didn’t mind at all that she had to work till bedtime to finish her home duties, to see about Billy’s clothes, and plan her own food program for the next day. In her carefree days at college she had not dreamed there was so much to be done in the world.
Classes were held in the evening during the second week of the course. This was a compromise to fit the needs of several housewives, who found it difficult to leave home in the morning. This arrangement made it necessary for Kitty, Vera and Lana to ride the island busses, as the girls could not go alone in the launch at night.
Palmetto Island was connected with the mainland by a long causeway across the marshes. This made the bus trip about three times the length of the boat ride.
The second evening, as the girls were returning home about ten-thirty the bus stopped near the oyster cannery to pick up some passengers. One of them was a sailor, wearing the crescent of the galley service. He impressed Kitty as being a raw recruit. Though Kitty was preoccupied with her own thoughts about the Canteen work, she had the fleeting idea that the boy must be on his way back to Bernard Hospital. She probably would never have thought of him again had not something rather peculiar happened.
The sailor stood just in line of her vision on the crowded bus. The man next to him had been smoking a cigar when he came aboard, and now held it in his hand. Suddenly as the bus lurched around a corner red-hot ashes from the end of the cigar fell on the sailor’s shoe. Instantly a spurt of flame ran diagonally across the boy’s shoe, as if some inflammable liquid had been spilled on it. Hastily the sailor stamped out the flame with his other foot. It all happened and was over in a flash. Kitty was impressed enough by the incident, however, to notice that the young man got off the bus at the hospital station.
Even then she would probably have forgotten the incident but for the strange events of the following day. She was roused at dawn by the telephone. It was Mrs. Evans, Chairman of the island Canteen unit.
“There was a big fire over at the oyster cannery last night,” she told Kitty. “Practically every shack on the point was burned down.”
“Oh, how terrible! Can I do anything?”
Kitty knew that the oyster cannery district was the poorest housed section of town.
“Indeed there is! We need every Canteen worker we can get to help prepare for these homeless people.”
“I’ll be right down,” said Kitty promptly.
“Could we use your launch?”
“Oh yes. I’m sure Dad won’t object.”
A Spurt of Flame Ran Across the Boy’s Shoe
“We are already loading the station wagon, but that won’t hold all we need. Miss Pearson phoned from Bayport for us to bring dishes, equipment and all the help we can get.”
“I’ll be down as soon as I can put on my clothes,” Kitty promised.
How thankful she was that they had arranged for Jane to have the small room behind the kitchen. Kitty roused her and gave careful instructions about the house and Billy, in case she would have to be gone all day. Then she told her father about the call, and in ten minutes was on her way down to the Canteen.
She helped Vera finish loading the station wagon and they drove over to the dock where her boat was housed. With the aid of Sally and Lana they filled the boat with pots, pans, all sorts of utensils and dishes, and what canned goods they had in stock. So many willing hands made quick work of the packing. They left only room enough for Mrs. Evans, the two Bright girls and Kitty. Judy Conner was going to help Vera pack the rest of their things in the station wagon and drive around over the causeway.
Not until they were seated in the boat and on their way to Bayport did Kitty find time to ask about the fire.
“The old cannery was a regular firetrap anyhow,” said Sally.
“It’s a miracle the fire didn’t sweep on to the shipyards,” Mrs. Evans remarked. “There was a strong northeast wind blowing that carried burning brands right in that direction.”
“Sounds like sabotage,” put in Lana.
“I doubt it,” said Mrs. Evans, who had a way of thinking the best of everything and everybody. “A careless match or hot cigarette ashes could have started the fire in any of those dumps.”
The mention of cigarette ashes made Kitty think of the cigar ash falling on the sailor’s shoe in the bus. Then with a feeling of shock she recalled that the sailor had come aboard the bus in the oyster cannery district. Could there possibly be any connection between the two fires? She knew that gasoline or kerosene was often used by saboteurs in setting fires. Perhaps the main motive had not been the destruction of the cannery and shacks, but the shipyards and government docks beyond.
Resolutely she tried to dismiss the entire affair, thinking how unjust it was to be suspicious of people she didn’t know. At least she would say nothing about it to anyone else, but she decided to do some investigating on her own if opportunity came.
There was so much to be done on reaching the scene of the disaster, however, that for a time Kitty forgot all about the incident on the bus. The Bayport Canteen workers had already set up a kitchen in a small playground near the center of the oyster cannery district.
She was amazed at the devastation that had been wrought in a few short hours. Practically every home that had surrounded the oyster cannery and docks had been burned to charcoal. The firemen, seeing it was impossible to save the poorly built shacks in the strong gale, had concentrated on preventing the spread of the fire to the essential war industries near by.
“It may be the best thing that could have happened to these people,” said Miss Pearson, when the island group of workers arrived. “We’ll see that proper housing units surround the cannery if it is rebuilt.”
Kitty had her initiation that day in the wonderful work which the Red Cross does in emergencies. As there was no adequate kitchen within easy reach of the homeless people, cooking racks had been set up in the open.
“If this were night and there was danger of air raids,” Miss Pearson explained to a group of Canteen apprentices who stood around the cook fire, “we’d have to cover our cook fire completely to keep it from being seen overhead.”
“My brother in the Coast Guard says even a match struck in the marshes can be seen by a passing plane,” Sally told them.
Soon pots were steaming with coffee, while huge saucepans held bubbling cereal. Kitty, with three other girls, improvised a table and benches where the children could sit to eat. In her group was Mrs. Janice, a member of the nutrition class, whom Vera had pointed out as a resident of the cannery district. She was an uneducated woman with an eager willingness to do everything in her power to help. Three of her sons were in the service. Though she and her other two children were now left homeless, she was doing her bit to help her fellow sufferers.
“There’s talk that the cannery was set afire,” she told Kitty when they went off together to tear some loose planks from a small section of the cannery that had not burned.
“Really! What have you heard about it?” Kitty said, encouraging Mrs. Janice to talk.
“The night watchman said he saw a stranger in dark clothes hurrying past the factory not ten minutes before he discovered the fire.” Then she added in a lower tone, “A sailor, too, he claims.”
Could it be possible that the boy she had seen on the bus had done this awful thing? But Kitty tried not to show her suspicions as she said, “But people must constantly pass by the cannery.”
“That’s so, of course, but you know how it is. You hear all sorts o’ talk. People round here were mighty careful ’bout fire, knowing how shoddy our houses were.”
“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. You’ll certainly have better homes to live in after this.”
With the aid of Mrs. Janice’s fourteen-year-old son, Jerry, they found a half dozen boards from which they managed to make a table. The Canteen workers were soon helping the hungry children to bowls of hot cereal and milk as they lined up at the table. Some of them were upset at being separated from their parents, but Kitty had a way of stilling their fears as she satisfied their hunger.
When their breakfast was over, Kitty gave each of them an apple and herded them over near the swings. She solicited the aid of some older boys and girls to keep the younger children amused while their parents ate. Then for two hours she helped wash the mountain-like pile of dishes.
“How long will we have to feed them?” she asked Mrs. Evans, when she was finally drying her hands.
“Tired already?”
“Oh, no—that is, of course I’m tired, but I didn’t mean it that way. I was just wondering what’s to be done about all these people. Where will they sleep tonight? What will they do till more homes can be built?”
“And well you may, my dear,” said Mrs. Evans kindly. “The town is packed to capacity with war workers. In spite of that many homes have already made room for some of these people. The Red Cross will provide tents for others until permanent shelter can be found. In the meantime they are dependent on the Canteen Corps for food.”
Kitty’s eyes were starry as she looked at her leader. “It’s wonderful work, isn’t it, Mrs. Evans?”
“Indeed it is!”
“If this fire was the work of saboteurs, it only makes us dedicate ourselves all the more devotedly to bringing peace and harmony in the end.”
“Sometimes the most loyal person can let carelessness make him the worst sort of saboteur,” said Mrs. Evans significantly.
Kitty thought she had more reason than anyone else for doubting that that fire had been started by a careless patriot. She had thought at first that she would keep quiet about the little incident on the bus last night, but now she made up her mind to take Brad Mason into her confidence. Brad might be in a position to make some investigations that she could not about the sailor.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE SNACK BAR
Nutrition classes were suspended for the duration of the emergency.
“You’ll learn more through actual experience now,” Miss Pearson told them, “than I could teach you in many lessons.”
Kitty spent as much time as possible during the next three days helping to feed the homeless cannery workers and their families. Tuesday evening she was much too weary to go to the regular USO party, and so she had no opportunity to see Brad till the following Saturday.
By that time her excitement over the fire had cooled, and she was afraid he would think her silly to accuse the strange sailor of having anything to do with it. A score of times she had heard her father say, “When in doubt say nothing.” So she wisely followed his advice.
There was so much work to be done in the closing days of the nutrition class that she had no time to think of anything else. The course had opened up to her a whole new world of practical interest.
“I can’t believe we’ve learned so much in two weeks,” she said to Lana and Vera.
“I’m surely glad Miss Pearson taught us every day, instead of once a week as they do in some places,” said Vera.
“I’ll say,” agreed Lana. “It’s much better to do it in two weeks instead of ten.”
“And it’s been so much fun, too,” said Kitty. “Only think of the places we’ve visited—packing plants, canneries, bakeries, restaurant kitchens. It’s so interesting to learn about all the food industries around this part of the country.”
“I’ve got a whole notebook full of recipes, and ideas about food I can put to good use when my Jim comes back from Italy,” said Vera.
“Huh,” laughed Kitty, “I don’t have to wait for anybody to come back.”
Lana laughed too. “That’s right. You have a dad and little brother to experiment on right now.”
On the last evening, as they were going over to class, Kitty said to her two pals, “Strange, but I don’t feel a bit nervous over the exam.”
“It’s been so practical and interesting there’s no sense in anyone being nervous,” Vera agreed.
“I wish I felt as certain as you two,” said Lana, who was still poring over her tables of vitamins and caloric values.
At this final meeting all except three members of the class signed up to go on with the Canteen work, though Kitty and her two friends were the only ones from Palmetto Island. Kitty felt a real glow of pride when she received her certificate at the conclusion of the course. Each member of the class was also given a recipe book to help with her own home menus.
The Canteen course that followed immediately under Mrs. Evans gave quite a different kind of instruction. The brief experience they had already had in emergency feeding made them keenly appreciative of all the phases of the Canteen instruction. Step by step they discussed all the angles of the work; planning menus for large scale feeding, food preparation, and here the course they had just taken was of invaluable aid. They also discussed methods of food service and how to keep a Canteen orderly and spotless. Kitty was one of the group who received some practical experience in serving food at the blood donation center twice a week.
Two days before this course ended there was a railroad wreck twenty-five miles from town. Kitty went with the mobile canteen to supply food for the rescue crew who were working to clear the wounded from the wreck. It happened to be Hazel Dawson’s day off, and she, too, went in the Red Cross station wagon, and worked like a trooper, giving first aid to the wounded.
“Tired?” asked Hazel gently as they were riding home in the Red Cross car at ten o’clock that night.
“I didn’t know I was tired till I sat down,” Kitty admitted. “But Hazel, isn’t it wonderful to be able to help people at a time like this?”
“There’s nothing in life quite so wonderful. You have the spirit of a real Canteen worker, Kitty. It’s a privilege to feed men’s bodies when they’re hungry, but it’s still more wonderful to give comfort to their souls and anxious minds as I saw you doing several times today.”
Kitty had had no greater sense of pride when she donned her cap and gown at graduation than she felt the day she was entitled to wear her Canteen uniform the first time. She was going over to Bayport to meet a troop train with several of the workers.
The Belgian blue poplin dress made her bright eyes seem all the bluer. Her heart was beating proudly when she arranged her cap behind the auburn hair rolled softly into a pompadour. She had a feeling of real pride in those red crosses on her pocket and the white band of her cap. Some day she meant to earn service bars, too. Mrs. Evans wore a chevron and three bars, representing seven years of service.
Although the girls did not wear their uniforms at the Snack Bar, Kitty donned the official apron she was allowed to wear there on the first evening after finishing her course. Though she had done much volunteer work at the bar she felt somewhat elated tonight over being a full-fledged Canteen worker.
She was in an expansive mood and said as she and Judy were slicing bread for sandwiches, “Let’s make ’em extra large, with plenty of stuffing just to celebrate our graduation.”
“You might make that special dressing you were telling me about,” Judy suggested.
“May I, Mrs. Evans?” Kitty asked.
“Of course. The boys always enjoy something different.”
Kitty had learned to make a tart creole sauce for sandwich filling from their cook in New Orleans, so she prepared a bowlful. By the time the boys began to drift into the hall the air was fragrant with coffee and chocolate, and trays of sandwiches were ready.
Brad, knowing it was Kitty’s initiation night, was one of the first bluejackets to plant his elbows on the counter and demand a sandwich.
“And a cupa cawfee, too, wench, and be snappy about it!” he said with mock gruffness.
She made a face at him as she turned to get the coffee.
After one bite of the sandwich Brad’s eyes bulged. “Oh boy! This tastes like something from Toni’s swanky joint in New Orleans.”
Kitty laughed in delight. “Our old cook used to work at Toni’s. She gave me lots of his secrets.”
Jimmy Barnes sat beside Brad taking huge bites of a sandwich. He enthusiastically added his praise to Brad’s. “Boy, but this is really seasoned up like home cooking.”
“About the best seasoning they give us up at the hospital is the shrimp creole.”
“And they only have that about twice a month,” added Jimmy in disgust.
Kitty’s curiosity stirred. Maybe this was her chance to learn something about the staff in the galley.
“Do you know the cooks very well?” she asked.
“Only a passing acquaintance,” said Brad. “Our Chief Commissary Steward is named Krome—an old timer at the job.”
“I saw a thin, dark-looking chap on the bus the other night with a crescent on his arm. Do you happen to know him?”
“Quite a number down there,” said Jimmy dubiously. “Only one I’ve talked to very often is a fair young chap, named Ned Miller.”
“There’s one named Punaro fits your description,” Brad told Kitty. “He empties wastebaskets on our floor.”
“Right young—about eighteen or nineteen?” Kitty persisted.
“About that. Only been in a few months. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. I just happened to see him the other day on the bus.”
A few minutes later Brad and Jimmy went off to play a game of pingpong with some of the girls and for the next hour Kitty was very busy at the bar. Later during a lull in their business she glanced down the hall and noticed that Lieutenant Cary was playing chess with someone in the south corner of the room. They were about the only two who had not patronized the Snack Bar during the evening.
“What’s so interesting over there?” Brad’s teasing tone jolted Kitty out of her curious speculation.
“Who’s that playing chess with Lieutenant Cary?” she asked in a low tone.
Brad glanced to the south corner of the room and replied, “Krome.”
“You mean the head cook up at the hospital?”
“What’s so surprising about that?”
“Somehow I thought Lieutenant Cary would be too snippity to play chess with the cook.”
“Why Krome’s Chief Commissary Steward. Lieutenant Cary has no reason to be high-hat to him. He was in the service long before Cary ever thought of such a thing.”
“Is that so?”
“Sure.”
“But Dr. Cary is a lieutenant.”
“Just the same he’s only been in the service a few months. He’s one of the physicians recently recruited.”
“Oh, I see,” murmured Kitty in a significant tone. Then she asked, “Do you know anything about the cook?”