Secrets of Radar

“She is of very high rank. No others are allowed here except a few like myself who have been introduced by regular—ah—members, you might say.”

“There have been high class spies,” she insisted.

“Not many,” he argued.

“She may be one of the few.”

“Well, you’ll have to prove it,” he replied, unconvinced. “And that will be both difficult and dangerous. Let’s drop it for now. This is our night. Besides, the ice cream here is most unusual.”

The ice cream was unusual. However it is to be doubted whether Gale really tasted its goodness, for all the time her eyes were on the woman in purple. She was consciously memorizing her features, the color of her hair and eyes, her high forehead that might have been European, her thin nose, her small red mouth, and her thin chin. She memorized too the shape of her long fingers and the rings set with two diamonds and a ruby.

“Now,” she whispered to herself, “If I see you again I shall know you, whether you are dressed in royal purple or in rags.”

As if the woman had heard, she turned and looked right at Gale. Did she give a sudden start? Gale thought so. If this was true, she made a quick recovery, for turning squarely about, the woman began talking with animation to the man at her side.

“My destination is Tokio,” Jimmie murmured, as if talking to himself.

“What? What did you say?” Gale exclaimed.

Jimmie’s reply was in a voice lower than her own. “It is agreed, a sort of unwritten law, that when Tokio is bombed by planes flying from China, all the remaining Flying Tigers still fit for service shall have a place in that flight. I hope to be one of these. That is my confession to my goddess for tonight.”

“And my confession,” she replied instantly, “Is that I hope to be the radar man in the bomber you fly over Tokio!”

“That—”

“Wait! Don’t say it is impossible.” She put two fingers over his lips. “It is not impossible. I am as good as any radar man, and quite as unafraid. It is not impossible that I should go.”

“Everything you have said is true,” he replied soberly.

“Only time will tell. If it can be arranged I shall be proud to have you as one of my comrades at arms.”

“That,” she replied, “Is the grandest speech anyone ever made to me.”

An hour later as they said goodbye at the door of the Club, Jimmie gave her a little something to remember. She found herself blushing as she hurried up the stairs to her room.

She did not fall asleep at once. There were too many thoughts and emotions to be filed away in her well ordered mind.

When at last she did fall asleep she had a most horrible dream. In the dream she and Jimmie stood before a statue in a park. It was a simple and unusual statue at first, but suddenly it began to grow, to stretch up and up toward the sky. It was a purple statue.

“The lady in purple,” she seemed to whisper.

Just then, in the dream the tall statue began to lean toward them. It leaned more and more.

“Jimmie! Jimmie!” she tried to call. “She is falling on us,—the lady in purple!”

Her vain effort to call wakened her. She found herself in a cold sweat. Did this dream have a meaning? She could not tell. So at last she dropped off into peaceful slumber.

CHAPTER XI
They Who Steal Out into the Night

And then it came—right out of a clear sky—the order that was to change the entire course of Gale’s life.

She got a slight inkling of what was coming from the little Burmese nurse, Than Shwe. Like some frightened bird Than Shwe came dancing into Gale’s room just as she was preparing for lunch.

“I have a secret,” she chanted. “Little Than Shwe has a secret. She would tell, if she dared, but she dare not.”

“Oh! A secret?” Gale was at once torn between her love for the little nurse and her desire to know the secret, especially if it happened to concern her own life.

“Tell me, Than Shwe,”—she spoke as quietly as possible—“Does your secret have anything to do with me?”

“I do not know for sure.” Than Shwe spoke slowly. “I am quite sure it does—yes—and for Isabelle and Jan too—it may be terribly important.”

“Oh! Isabelle and Jan?” Gale caught her breath. She recalled the request they had signed and had sent to the colonel several days before. She did not dare hope the request had been granted. No more did she dare press Than Shwe for a more definite answer. The little Burmese girl, she knew, had a heart of gold! A little teasing, and—

“No!” she told herself. “It would never do. A military secret is not to be toyed with.” So she asked no more questions.

“I’ll see you tonight. I think perhaps at nine—perhaps later.”

With this final bit of mysterious information and a teasing smile, Than Shwe danced out of the room.

Gale’s head was in a whirl. Was the big moment near at hand? Were all her dreams to come true? She dared not hope.

She ate very little lunch. She was too excited to eat. She drank three pots of very strong coffee. Just as she was preparing to leave Isabelle joined her. There was a strangely sober look on her friend’s round, rosey face.

“Suppressed excitement,” Gale read it, and was at once more excited than ever.

“Colonel kept me overtime,” Isabelle explained, staring at the menu.

“Toast,” she ordered. “A banana. Some cookies and tea—a large pot of black tea.”

“What? You too?” Gale exclaimed. “Than Shwe has me all excited.” She spoke in a casual tone. “And now you seem lost in a dream. Than Shwe seems to have a secret. What about you?”

“A secret? Oh, yes,” said Isabelle, absentmindedly. “I shouldn’t wonder.”

Nothing more was said until Isabelle’s lunch arrived. Even then Isabelle appeared to be thinking out loud when she spoke.

“Can you imagine being cool, really cold, after a month of this terrible heat of India?” she asked.

Gale could not, and said so.

“Well, try it,” said Isabelle.

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Oh! Go to Boston! No one has any sense today!” Gale exclaimed. “Perhaps it’s the heat. I’ll try thinking about being cold. The shores of a northern lake deep in the evergreen forest—wild duck—perhaps a moose—way back in Michigan.” She laughed as she rose and hurried away.

“I’ll drive out to see Mac,” Gale told herself. “Mac is always so sober and matter-of-fact about things.”

She found him directing the placing of a new anti-aircraft gun.

“So Mac isn’t going,” she thought. Her heart seemed to sink. She liked Mac and had counted on working with him for a long time. They made a good team, she thought.

And then it occurred to her that she was on the wrong track—that she herself was going nowhere.

She thought of something else. “Mac!” she exclaimed. “I haven’t found that third secret of radar, and I think—that is, I hope maybe I’m going on sort of a trip.”

Mac straightened up suddenly. “What? You think—” He stopped short, stared at her, and then in a changed voice said:

“Forget the third secret of radar! You’re as bad as the colored soldier in the first World War who was looking for his arm that had been blown off. When they told him the arm couldn’t be put back, he said, ‘Yas sir. I know dat. But thar’s a thirty dollar wrist watch on that arm!’”

Mac laughed at his own joke. Then he said:

“This is war. You can’t expect to get everything back when a block buster drops close to you.”

“Oh—I—”

“I’m sorry,” Mac interrupted. “I’ve got to get this gun in place before—” He caught himself, and did not finish.

“Nice crowded little world,” the girl told herself. “I’m going back to the Club and sit in a corner until something happens.”

But she didn’t—at least, not for long.

Scarcely had she downed a glass of limeade, made with real limes, when Isabelle came rushing in to seize her by the arm and drag her up toward their room.

“Orders!” Isabelle whispered, flapping a paper in the air. “Marching orders.” At that Gale nearly collapsed on the stairs.

“What does it mean?” she gasped, when at last they were in their room with the door fast closed. “Let me see the orders.”

Without a word Isabelle handed her the paper. The order was directed to Gale alone. Isabelle had received hers straight from the colonel himself.

As she read, Gale’s eyes widened. First there were some words of commendation for her—“Efficient and valiant service.” Then came the orders. These were brief and to the point. She was to be prepared to leave the city by car that night for a “protracted absence, perhaps months. You will travel with Isabelle, Jan and Than Shwe.” She read on:

“Isabelle, Jan, Than Shwe!” she exclaimed. “How grand! But tell me!” she demanded, turning to Isabelle, “Is this IT?”

“This, as far as I can see, is it,” was the solemn reply. “The colonel told me nothing, just gave me my marching orders. But to himself he said, ‘We’re going back. At last, by God, we’re going back! And we’ve got power!’”

“The power and the glory,” Gale whispered.

“He didn’t say ‘and the glory’. I don’t believe he ever thinks of that,” was Isabelle’s solemn reply. “He’s a real soldier. All he wants is men, machines and power.”

There was little more to Gale’s orders. She was to take with her only such personal belongings as were necessary. These were to be carried on their own car which Jan was to drive. Their bedding and equipment, radar equipment and all else would go by truck.

“And Mac?” she said to Isabelle? “Is he going?”

“Mac is going,” was the quiet reply. “Please don’t ask me more.”

No more was asked, and indeed, there was little time for talking. They launched themselves at once into the task of sorting and packing,—a real job. They had been in India four months. In that time they had collected a considerable treasure, rare silk gowns, carved ivory gods, green jade, and much else. All these must be stored away in lockers.

“When will we be back?” Gale asked.

“Perhaps never,” was the solemn response.

And so they sifted, sorted and packed, sorted, sifted and packed again, until at last one modest sized duffle bag apiece held all that would go with them.

Darkness was falling when they had finished.

“It’s dinner time!” Gale exclaimed. “How I wish Jimmie were here to spend these last hours of the big city with me!”

“Jimmie? Oh, yes,—that Ferry Command boy,” Isabelle murmured absent mindedly.

In the end, the four of them, Gale, Isabelle, Jan and Than Shwe had dinner together in a neat little place around the corner. It was run by a Chinaman.

“We’re headed for China,” said Isabelle. “Might as well get used to Chinese cooking.”

“How about cooking Japan?” Jan asked.

“That will take time,” Isabelle laughed.

“My destination is Tokio,” said Gale, quoting Jimmie. “But I don’t expect to eat there. Instead, I hope to spoil Tojo’s dinner for him.”

“That’s the stuff!” Jan exclaimed. “By golly! That’s the stuff!”

Than Shwe threw back her small head with a merry laugh as she repeated,—“By golly, yes! That’s the stuff!”

An hour after dark they stole like fugitives from the Club. No noise, no confusion, no congratulations, no cheering. Truth was, very few knew they were going, and those few were faithfully silent.

“The army is not going now,” Isabelle confided to Gale. “Just a selected few of us to prepare the way.”

“A selected few,” Gale’s heart swelled with pride. To Isabelle she said, with a laugh, “We’ll make roads, build bridges, all that, I suppose?”

“All that!” Isabelle’s tone was impressive. “All that has been done. You’ll be amazed. Oh, no! I’ve never been there, but I can see it all the same.

“We’ll steal out of the city like ships going out to join a convoy,” she whispered as she and Gale climbed into the rear seat of Jan’s jeep. “There’ll be a dozen cars in our section,—the colonel, his guard, and a few others. A convoy of trucks will leave by another road. Other cars will strike out by themselves. In the end, when we’re a hundred miles on our way, we’ll discover that there are quite a lot of us after all.”

“Fascinating!” Gale murmured.

All of a sudden Gale’s eyes caught something that brought her up short. In the shadows she had caught sight of a familiar figure. “The woman in purple,” she whispered to herself. Oddly enough, she found herself filled with consternation. “Seems like an ill omen,” she told herself. “Like the croaking of a raven, or a black cat crossing your path.”

Then she received a second shock. The woman in purple was joined by a very thin man in a long, dark robe. He had appeared like a dark ghost. Perhaps he had been there all the time.

She watched them intently while they exchanged a few words. Then they started to move away. Gale watched and shuddered. The tall thin man walked as if he were a little lame in both feet.

At once Gale’s mind went speeding back to those strange startling hours in the temple. Was this the same man? What was his relation to the woman in purple? Were they both spies? Would she ever see them again?

In the midst of this questioning she felt the car start. The mysterious pair passed from her view, and they were on their way.

Did some wise little gremlin whisper, “You haven’t seen the last of that pair!”? If he did, Gale was too full of excitement to hear him.

It was to be all of that in the end. The beginning of this long, long journey was very much like driving out of Chicago for an evening spin. Their car was different, that was all. The road was smooth. They sped past homes where evening lamps were alight. Here and there they swung to one side to pass cars going in the opposite direction.

“Wouldn’t it seem strange,” Isabelle murmured, “if we were to turn about after a bit and drive back only to find ourselves in our own home town, in America!”

“I’ll say it would!” Gale’s voice was strange.

“Would you like it?” Isabelle asked.

There came no answer for a moment. Then in slow, even tones, Gale said:

“No. I wouldn’t like it a bit. This is my destiny. I’m in it to the finish, and wouldn’t miss it for worlds.

“Tokio,” she whispered softly, “is my destination.” And she really meant it.

CHAPTER XII
The Unseen Highway

They drove for what seemed to Gale endless hours. Smooth, paved roads gave way to hard surfaced ones with many bumps, but still they roared on. In their open car, with the air constantly beating on their faces, they became very sleepy, but Gale was determined to stay awake. This, she knew, was to be one of the memorable nights of her life. They were going forth to battle, even ahead of the big push, the army. Yes, this was a big night.

Gale thought of the words spoken by her father just before they started.

“Gale,”—his voice had been almost somber—“In the army you’ll be what you young people call ‘pushed around’. You won’t like it. For years—”

“For years you’ve been trying to push me around!” she had put in with a sly smile. “And you think you didn’t succeed. Dear old Dad, you succeeded better than you knew. Anyway, you’re proud of me now, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes! Of course!” He had coughed violently.

“But what I’m trying to tell you is that in the army you’ll really be pushed around, and you’ll not like it. But you’ll have to take it. You’re in for the duration.”

“What do you mean?” she had asked soberly.

“You’ll be put in a place and told to wait, when you want action. You’ll want to do things worse than you’ve ever wanted to do anything before, and you’ll be told you can’t do them.”

“I know! I was there!” His voice had risen. “It’s no one’s fault. It’s war, that’s all. And because it’s war you’ll have to take it.”

“Well then, if it’s war I’ll take it,” had been her response.

She smiled a little as she recalled those words now. Only a few weeks before she had found herself up against what seemed a stone wall. She had been told that no WACS would be allowed to go with the army into Burma and China. No indeed! But here she was going in ahead of the army! She had very little notion how it had come about, nor how long her luck would last. One thing she did know—she was not being pushed around—not yet.

All of a sudden the car lights dimmed, then the car slowed down a bit.

“What’s up, Jan?” she asked.

“Nothin’. Dim out. That’s all,” was Jan’s quick response. “Colonel’s orders. We’re getting into a zone where there’s not supposed to be a road,—only a trail. The honorable enemy mustn’t be allowed to know about this road.”

A little further on the whole procession halted, then moved on, halting every thirty seconds.

“Guard,” Jan explained. As it came her turn Jan gave the countersign, submitted to a brief inspection, then drove on.

A chill ran up Gale’s spine. Already they were in dangerous territory, where roads were new.

“Jan,” she said, “Can you drive in the dark?”

“Can I?” Jan asked. “Golly, you must have slept through your weeks at Fort Des Moines if you never saw us girls driving those big trucks in convoy.”

“Oh yes, I saw them!” Gale recalled.

“Well, you’d better believe they trained us. Drive in the dark? Say! They tied handkerchiefs over our eyes and made us drive for hours and hours without seeing a thing, and us in convoy, twenty trucks all going together.”

“Once,” Jan laughed joyously, “I ran over a duck. But was I to blame? The duck could see, and I couldn’t.”

They drove on, a little more slowly, in all but complete darkness. No friendly village lights now greeted their approach. There was no moon. Here and there dark bulks loomed,—a dog barked,—the sound of their motors changed a little, then again they were swallowed up by the night. These were the only signs of a village just passed.

More and more trees lined the roadway. At times their towering tops shut out the stars.

At last there came the rattle of shifting gears. “We’re going up,” Gale whispered.

“This is the road we followed on our retreat.” There was a note of joyous suspense in Than Shwe’s voice. “Only then there was no road, only a rocky trail, and we girls were barefoot. Our shoes had been worn out on the rocks of the river bed.”

“No road?” Gale exclaimed. “No road then, and now there is one. How come?”

“It was all done by magic.” There was awe in the little Burmese girl’s voice. “I don’t know more than that. But oh! I’m so glad we’re going back!”

They climbed, glided forward, then climbed again. Five times Jan shifted gears to climb. Then, after slowing down, they came to a halt. Here too the towering trees hid the stars, but beside the road a dim light shone.

A thin point of light wavered along the ground, then pointed itself at Jan.

“Come on. Get out,” said a familiar voice. “Time for midnight lunch at two in the morning.”

“Mac!” Gale exclaimed. “It’s you!”

“Sure it is! What did you think? And am I tired! I’ve driven all the way.” Mac’s voice trailed off.

“Golly! It doesn’t seem like it could be two o’clock!” Jan exclaimed. “I’ve just started to drive!”

At this they all laughed and piled out of the car.

If Gale had hoped for a good talk with Mac, she was doomed to disappointment, for as she and Than Shwe entered the long, low room that was evidently an eating place, someone grabbed them both by the arms to exclaim:

“How are you, girls? How you making it?” It was the colonel himself. “Come on,” he urged. “We’ll all sit together at this table.” So it happened that the four girls ate at the colonel’s table, along with his driver and orderly.

“This is a Chinese place, but don’t order chop suey,” the colonel warned. “The waiter won’t know what you mean.”

“Golly! Why not?” Jan asked.

“I’ll explain that later,” said the colonel. Then he exclaimed:

“Boy! Oh boy! Are we in luck! This Chink’s been raiding a hen coop. There’s stewed chicken and dumplings to be had. How about an order all round? This is on me. It’s the happiest night of my life.”

There was a chorus of assents, and so the meal was ordered.

“Why so happy, colonel?” Jan asked.

“Oh! Don’t you know?” Than Shwe exclaimed. “This is our road of remembrance, is it not colonel?”

“Yes, yes!” he agreed. “Our road of remembrance. Than Shwe and I are going back.”

“We came down this road when it was only a path. You were in ragged shorts and I was barefoot.” Than Shwe laughed.

“We were retreating from Burma,” the colonel chuckled. “A ragged handful of us.”

“But we were singing as if we had just won the war. We were singing for the future, colonel!” The little nurse was as happy as her chief.

“Yes, Than Shwe, we were singing for the future. That time the Japs beat the tar out of us. We had a ragged army of untrained Chinese soldiers and a few English troops, all fine fighters, but scattered all over the map. The Japs drove us out.”

“But now,” the colonel’s voice rose, “Now we’ve got what it takes—tanks, guns, planes and men—thousands and thousands of well-trained men. We’ve got the power and we’re going back. Back to Burma, back to Rangoon, yes, and back to Mandalay! With God’s help we’re going back to Mandalay!”

At that the colonel’s aide, who had a splendid baritone voice, sang:

“Come ye back to Mandalay, where the flying fishes play.”

At once the entire group—it was a large eating place packed with soldiers—roared out:

They were in the midst of the song when Gale’s eye was caught by a bright candle held by someone in the doorway leading to the kitchen.

At first she thought the person was a child, for the candle was held low. The whole place was lit by candles. Then the person held the candle higher, and she saw his face.

“Look, Colonel!” She exclaimed. “Look quick!”

“Where?”

“That door! Oh! Now he’s gone!”

“Who was there? Why all the excitement?” the colonel asked.

“It was the Black Dwarf.”

“Oh! The Black Dwarf,” he murmured. Truth was, she had only half his attention. He had been enjoying the celebration to the very bottom of his soul. Now as the song lagged, he roared out:

“Come ye back to Mandalay!” And they sang it all over again.

As for Gale, her eyes were still glued to that door. She fully expected to see the Black Dwarf again. But he did not reappear. He was gone, perhaps farther than she could dream.

When the song ended Gale found herself in a quandary. The colonel was having the time of his life. Should she interrupt this to tell him of the Black Dwarf? After all, what did she have to tell about this strange little man? She had seen him once on the edge of the airfield, and twice in the dugout during an air raid. And now he was here. What was there to that? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps a great deal. The Black Dwarf could wait, for here came the food.

It was a glorious feast, enjoyed by all; chicken with dumplings, baked sweet potatoes, fruit salad, and of all things—ice cream.

“It seems strange,” she said to the colonel.

“What is strange?” His eyes twinkled.

“This food. How could they do it on such short notice?”

“They had notice enough. Everything has been planned in advance. Everything.” He repeated. “Wait till you see how we have planned it! Every beam—every spike is in its place. You will be amazed.”

She only half understood what he was saying, but she was impressed. “I am to be part of something big!” she whispered to herself. Her bosom swelled. “Something really big!”

“Colonel,” said Isabelle, “Tell us why we shouldn’t order chop suey in a Chinese restaurant over here.”

“Because they’d laugh at you,” was the surprising reply. “Over here, chop suey is beggar’s hash. When a beggar gets good and hungry, he goes from door to door with a big wooden bowl. At every door some scrap of food is thrown into the bowl. When he gets home he chops it all up fine and eats it.”

“But in America we pay fancy prices for chop suey!” Gale protested. “How come?”

“It goes back to the Gold Rush days of California,” said the colonel. There were a lot of Chinese workmen in one camp. They had their own restaurant.

“One night a bunch of white miners thought they’d try Chinese food, so they went in demanding to be served. It was late. Only scraps were left, so the frightened Chink threw the scraps into a big bowl, chopped them up and served them.

“‘That’s a swell dish!’ one of the miners exclaimed. ‘What do you call it?’

“‘Chop Suey,’ was the Chink’s reply. ‘Beggar’s hash’, to him. And that,” laughed the colonel, “started beggar’s hash joints all over America.”

When the party rose to leave, Gale hurried to one of the waiters to whisper:

“You have a man here who is a—a—sort of dwarf, don’t you?”

“We did have.” The man scowled. “He used to work here. That was some time past. Tonight he came back and said he wanted to work. We took him in. Now when we need him most he has skipped out! Gone! Bah! He’s no good!”

Gale was tempted to repeat his words—“Bah! He is no good!” She did not, but in the future the words were to come back to her and she was to repeat them more than ever.

CHAPTER XIII
A Dangerous Hideout

The meal over, they were once more on their way. The road grew rougher and steeper. Jan was forever switching from two-wheel to four-wheel driving. At one time they seemed about to slide back down hill, but the plucky driver held the jeep to its course and the jeep did its bit by turning in a perfect performance.

The first faint touch of a false dawn was showing in the east when the road levelled off. For another mile they drove in what to Gale seemed complete darkness. Then they came to a halt.

A moment later a flashlight appeared by the door. They recognized the colonel’s voice as he said, flashing his light way to the right:

“Your tent is over there.” The light shone for ten seconds on a small, square tent. For the first time Gale discovered that they were surrounded and probably overshadowed by immense hardwood tropical trees.

“That’s why it’s so completely dark,” she told herself.

“Drive your jeep close to the tent,” said the colonel. “Then come back here. Someone will take you to the mess tent for a cup of coffee before you turn in.

“We sleep daytimes and travel nights,” he added. “However, in this case we are at the end of our journey. But not for long—not for long,” he repeated softly. There was a meaning in these last few words that dug deep into Gale’s soul.

A few moments later they were all set for their cup of coffee. Mess kits and cups were passed out to them. They stood in line with the soldiers and received their portions of oatmeal, toast, bacon and coffee.

Seated at a plain board table, they found themselves opposite a group of doughboys who stared at them, but said never a word.

“They don’t like to see us here,” Gale thought to herself. “Or do they?”

The meal over, they returned to the tent. Buckets of hot water stood outside the tent door. With little cries of appreciation, they fairly dove into these to scrub the grime of the road from their faces and the blear from their eyes.

The sun was just sending long, searching beams of light down between the trees that appeared to reach to the sky when at last they tumbled into their bunks, buried their faces in pillows, and prepared to sleep.

Gale did not go to sleep at once. The movement of dim lights and darting shadows were in her eyes; the clash of changing gears rattled through her subconscious mind.

“I’m here,” she thought, “in the heart of a wilderness, on my way to war. Perhaps I have already arrived. This may be the fringe of an army camp. The whole army may arrive tomorrow night. At dawn there may be a battle.”

That her imagination was taking her for a ride she realized well enough, but as she lay there in the midst of that vast silent forest, sounds began to reach her ears, sounds both familiar and startling.

Indistinct at first, these sounds took on form and color. They came from somewhere away to the right. They appeared to come from ground level.

“Airplanes,” she thought.

What were these? American planes, or enemy fighters and bombers searching out their hiding place?

“Let them search,” she thought. “They’ll never find us here!”

Then a feeling took possession of her. “I shan’t be at work searching them out!” She half rose from her cot, then settled back. “What nonsense! I have neither equipment nor a gunner. And in this dense forest it would be impossible to distinguish them from the treetops.” At that she fell asleep.

Even in her dreams those distant roaring motors haunted her, for in those dreams flying in the smallest kind of a plane, she darted between great trees like pillars of a Greek temple with the greatest of ease. Spying a spot of sunlight, like a great silver butterfly, she slipped out into the glorious sunshine above the sea of green that was the forest from above. Pursued by a huge enemy plane that spouted fire, she slipped back through the hole to re-enter the shadows, only in the end to crash a wing against a giant tree and to go spinning down.

In the agony of fright she tried to cry out, and so wakened herself to the reality of cot, tent, and forest shadows.

That the planes were real enough she was to learn later. Still more surprising was the fact that her friend Jimmie Nightingale flew one of the planes. In discovering this she was to let herself in on one of the great secrets of this dark forest. But for the time she drifted off into dreamless sleep.

They slept until midday. After that they slicked up, soldier style, and marched out with their mess kits. When four American and three Chinese nurses came from tents adjoining their own to join them at mess, they realized that they were not alone.

“You will be working with us,” a gray haired nurse said to Than Shwe.

“Oh! Then I shall be happy!” the little Burmese girl exclaimed. “To be near the front to care for wounded soldiers, that is for me a little bit of Heaven.”

“That is a nice way to say it,” was the quick reply. “That’s just the way I feel about it. We shall be friends.”

“But is there a hospital here in the forest?” Isabelle asked, surprised.

“Oh yes! Not a large one, but well equipped. After our meal I am to show it to you.” After that they marched in silence beneath the great trees.

“It’s like a big church,” Jan whispered. “The kind they have in England.” And so it was.

“Why! This is quite a hospital!” Gale exclaimed as an hour later the head nurse led them into a long, low building of permanent wood construction. “I thought it would be only a tent,” she explained.

“Not a bad location for a base-hospital,” was the quiet reply. “Only one wing is occupied now. But tomorrow? Who knows?” The motherly woman sighed. “This is war.”

One fact amazed Gale. In one corner were sixteen wounded aviators. Six were Chinese, the others Americans.

“I hadn’t heard about air battles in this sector.” She showed her surprise.

“In war there are many surprises,” said the nurse. “This is only the beginning for you. Each day your horizon will be broadened, but only at the commanding officer’s order.”

Gale talked to some of the young American flyers. They spoke with pleasure of America, and asked many questions. Not one word did they say of their exploits. To a man their chief desire was to get well and to get back into the conflict.

“Oh! I want to get back to work!” Gale exclaimed as she left the building.

“Something tells me you will be back at work sooner than you think,” said the nurse. She was not wrong.

That evening Gale received a message from the colonel.

“Will call for you an hour before dawn,” was all it said.

Needless to say she was dressed and ready when Jan, with the Colonel in the back seat of her jeep, came chugging in through the dark forest.

With their destination still a mystery, the colonel, who had handed Gale up to a place beside him, directed Jan in and out among the trees until a winding road that climbed steeply came under their wheels.

“Follow this road until you come to a small cabin,” was the colonel’s instruction. After that he began talking in low serious tones to Gale.

“I am taking you to your place of labor,” he told her. “It’s not much like the one you just left. It’s much wilder and more dangerous. But you asked for it.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I asked for it, and I—I think I can take it.”

“Your father was a soldier, and a good one. I know him well,” he said quietly.

“Oh! Do you?” A warm glow of appreciation and deepening friendship flooded Gale’s being.

“In your new station,” the colonel went on, “save for Jan and two Chinese guards, you will be alone.”

“Mac?” she asked.

“He will not be there. Your post will be an exposed spot, but you shall be well hidden. We couldn’t risk anti-aircraft fire from that position. It would give us away.”

Gale felt a chill run up her spine. “Jan,” she thought, “two Chinese guards,—practically alone, no protecting guns.”

They came to a stop at the edge of the forest.

“From this spot you will always go on foot, and always before dawn, or after dark.” The colonel produced a small flashlight. They walked round the cliff, then began to climb. Their path was a stairway cut into the solid rock.

When Gale and Jan were completely out of breath, they made a turn to find themselves facing what appeared to be one more rocky wall, which it was, save for a low, narrow door.

Once they had passed through that door and closed it, the colonel snapped on a light, and they found themselves in a room some twelve feet square. The wall, even the ceiling of this room were of rock. A small window had been cut opposite the door. This, at that moment, was closed by a heavy shutter.

“This, for the present,” said the colonel—his tone was impressive—“will be your post. It is not entirely safe. It is extremely important. I may tell you quite frankly,”—his voice rumbled low—“that if there was a man under my command who could do a better job up here than you, he would be stationed here.”

“Than—Oh, thanks!” Gale stammered.

“Don’t thank me.” His manner was almost blunt. “This is war. In war, the best man for each post must fill it. You are the one for this station. You have been tried by fire, and have not been found wanting. Japs beat the tar out of us in Burma. Now we’re going back.”

“And beat the tar out of them,” said Jan.

“Exactly,” said the colonel. “And now,”—his voice dropped—“I suggest that we have a cup of coffee. In half an hour I shall give you a glimpse of our promised land.”

“Burma?” Gale whispered in surprise.

“None other,” he smiled.

“What magic!” she murmured. To this he made no reply. But producing a large thermos bottle, the colonel took a loaf of bread, an electric toaster, and half a dozen doughnuts from a niche in the stone wall.

“All the comforts of home,” he murmured as the two girls assisted in preparing breakfast.

CHAPTER XIV
Pete

Eager as Gale was for a look at the scene that lay spread out beneath her window, she gladly followed the colonel’s lead in a slow, leisurely breakfast. Full well she realized that this was one of the rare moments of her life.

“It’s the lull before a storm,” she told herself. “Soon an army will come sweeping up from below. Then we at this bleak outpost will be all but forgotten.”

As she looked at the colonel sitting there drinking coffee and munching toast, she found it difficult to realize that he was a truly great man. “So simple! So kind and thoughtful of others,” ran through her mind. She wondered in a vague sort of way if all the truly great ones of this earth were not at some time simple and kind.

“Dawn must be here!” the colonel exclaimed at last. Putting down his empty cup he walked to the window and raised the shutter.

“There!” he exclaimed. “That is Burma—the land we left behind. Now we’re going back.”

“Golly!” Jan exclaimed. “Is that Burma out there?” They were looking down first on a green ocean of treetops, then upon low rows of low mountains, and after that, dim in the distance, green valleys.