And then, like autumn leaves caught in a miniature whirlwind, they were
sent spinning away in all directions. There was one happy evening hour
when Sally, Nancy, Barbara, and Danny had lunch together in the Purple
Cow, just off the campus. Theirs was the hail-and-farewell of good
fellows well met, of soldiers who might never meet again. And yet,
behind all their jokes and laughter was a feeling of friendship and
devotion to one another that in all the years could never die.
“We’ll be seeing you,” they shouted next morning.
“Oh, sure! We’ll be together again, sooner than you think!”
“Good-by!”
“Good-by!”
Sally and Nancy were sent to the beautiful campus of a great mid-western
university where they would learn much more about radio and
communications. Barbara was shipped off to a big airport to receive her
final training in the art of rigging parachutes. Danny remained behind,
but not for long. The autumn winds would soon whisk him away to new
fields of adventure and duty.
Both Sally and Nancy had dreamed of attending some truly great
university. And, at last, here they were. But for how long? Just long
enough to make you efficient in your chosen field, was the precise
answer. “And always remember, your services are badly needed right now.
Good communications and radio men are scarce. They are badly needed
overseas.”
“But won’t we two be sent overseas?” Nancy asked of the major who gave
them the information.
“That remains to be seen. However, one thing is certain, no WAVE will be
sent overseas until she has perfected herself in her particular branch,
and has served long enough at one of our bases here in America to prove
that she will be a valuable addition to our Navy, either aboard ship or
overseas.”
“Right here is where I forget this Gothic architecture, the shady walks,
the cozy nooks that help to make this big school what it is,” Sally
said, as a look of determination spread over her face. “I’m going to
work and study day and night, for we are in the Navy now.”
“I’m right behind you,” Nancy agreed. “All the same, when this terrible
scrap is over, I’m coming right back here and be a regular student as
long as I please. And believe me, I’m going to have all the
trimmings—class dances, proms, shady walks and all the rest.”
“Shake on that.” Sally held out her hand. That handshake was a solemn
ceremony.
“And now to business.”
From that time on their heads were bent, for long hours, over study
desks, radios, clattering keys.
Their day was not done when darkness fell, nor their week when Saturday
rolled round. They did not, like Barbara, hide under the covers to study
with a flashlight when night came. They rented bicycles for the entire
period of their stay at the university. On many a night farmers saw
strange lights winking and blinking from one hill to another in their
pastures. Sally and Nancy were practicing the light-blinking code they
had studied that day. Twice they were reported as spies, but nothing
came of it for they never returned to the same pasture twice, and it
would have been a fleet-footed farm boy who could have rounded them up
in the dark.
Saturday afternoon, armed with dozens of multicolored flags, they
returned to these same hills to practice flag signals. White and blue
with a notch in the end stood for A, blue, white, red, white and blue in
stripes was C, and so on and on to white with a red spot for one, blue
with a white spot for two, and so on.
With good memories and a zeal for learning seldom witnessed by those
gray stone walls, they went through the school in record time and were
once more on the move.
“Now we’re really going to work,” Sally cried, enthusiastically.
“Yes, and at one of the biggest air bases on our long seacoast,” Nancy
agreed.
“Florida and the sea. Um—” Sally breathed, “that’s worth working for.”
“It sure is!”
“There’s something else I’m going to work harder than ever for—” Sally
spoke with conviction.
“What’s that?”
“I’m going to try to cut ‘Florida and the sea’ down to just the good,
old ‘sea.’ All my life I’ve waited for that.”
“Oh, I don’t know. There are the enemy sub-packs. They’re really
dangerous. The water’s awfully cold.”
“That’s just it.” Sally’s eyes shone. “There are the sub-packs—you
haven’t forgotten our secret radios?”
“Almost,” Nancy admitted.
“I tried them twice back at the U, when you were gone,” Sally confided.
“Nothing doing. Guess we were too far from the sea.”
“Florida will be better.”
“Much better, but the sea will be better still.”
“I suppose so,” Nancy replied dreamily. “But don’t forget, your enemy
sub-pack may turn out to be friendly ships or planes.”
“I won’t forget. All the same, I want to know.”
“Wonder where Danny is.”
“And Barbara.”
“Oh! I forgot to tell you. I had a letter from Barbara this morning.
Guess where she is now?”
“Where we’re going?”
“That’s just where she is. Won’t it be great if you can hop off from the
sky with her again?” Nancy laughed.
“I wouldn’t mind. I’ll bet you an ice-cream soda I’ll have a chance to
use that experience before the year is over.”
“Easy aces! You’re on. If I never win another bet, that’s one for me.”
Was Nancy too confident? In this world at war many strange things can
happen, and many do.
Not so long after that, Sally found herself seated on the top of a high
tower that overlooked a vast airfield. The skies were full of floating
planes. The roar of powerful motors beat upon her eardrums. In her hand
she held a score sheet, and, at the steady, carefully spoken words of a
marine in a major’s uniform, she recorded hours, moments, numbers, and
names.
On the officer’s head was a set of earphones. About his neck a
chin-speaker was attached. From time to time, speaking always in that
steady, even tone, he said:
“Come on down, six, four, three. Wind velocity, fifteen miles per hour,
north-north-east.”
And again: “Circle once more, three-six-eight. Fast one coming in from
the east.”
There were long periods of time when he said nothing, just stood there
staring dreamily away toward the sea. But always he appeared to listen,
as indeed he did, for listening to the radio voice of great four-motored
bombers, inviting them to come in, advising them to wait, telling them
when to take off, informing them regarding weather, was his duty. And on
his ears, eyes and voice hung the life of many a fine young flier.
Red Storm, his fellow officers called him, some times “Silent Storm.”
His real name was Robert Storm. Silent Storm was the name Sally liked
best, although, of course, she never called him that, always Major
Storm.
He seemed young for a major and certainly was handsome in a big, tall,
red-headed way. He seldom spoke to her except to instruct her in her
work. He was teaching her his own work, so she could take his place.
Nancy too was learning the work, but at a different period.
As Major Storm stood there looking away during quiet times, she often
wondered about that faraway look in his eyes. Then, too, there was the
long scar across his right cheek and the look of utter weariness that
came over his face at times when he slumped down in his chair.
“Major Storm,” she said one day, speaking with a sudden impulse that
surprised her, “what does one do to make people want one as a friend?”
“You don’t make people want you as a friend,” was his quick reply. “They
either wish to be your friend or they don’t, and that’s all there is to
it.”
“Are—are you sure?” she asked a little startled.
“Absolutely.”
“Well, then, they might not care to have you as a friend but you might
be able to do something that would make them wish to do something for
you—you know, like—”
“Yes, I know what you mean. The answer to that is simple then. Take an
interest in them first. Find out about their lives, their families,
their problems. Have a sympathetic interest in them. If they’re human,
they’ll do the same for you. That’s simple, isn’t it?”
“Very simple.”
Suddenly, he spoke in a different tone: “Come on in, Johnny.”
After sweeping the sky with his binoculars, he settled down in his
chair.
“That radio boy on that big bomber is Johnny, one of my own boys. I
taught him. He’s a fine boy. I suppose the war will get him sooner or
later. It seems rather useless to care for them too much. They go away
and—”
“You never see them again.”
“That’s right.”
“But, by the way,” his voice rose, “you have one very good friend,
eminently worth while, I’d say.”
“I have several,” she smiled. She was happy, happier than she had been
for days. She had really started Silent Storm talking. “But then,” she
thought with a shy smile, “who ever heard of a really, truly silent
storm, anyway?”
“This friend of yours,” he said quietly, “is also a very old friend of
mine—old C. K., we used to call him.”
“You don’t mean C. K. Kennedy!” She stared in disbelief.
“That’s exactly who I do mean. He taught me most of what I know about
radio. He’s one man in a million.”
“Oh! Then—” she exclaimed, “then we’re practically cousins!”
“Something like that,” he replied dryly.
Then, springing to his feet, he said: “Okay—come in, three-two-six.”
And that was all for then. Evening was coming on. Many big ships were
coming in through the blue. Every moment was taken from then to the end
of the shift. Yes, that was all for then, but it was enough to keep the
girl dreaming in the golden twilight, under the palms when the day’s
work was done. And those were strange dreams. Secret radios, ships,
submarines, giant four-motored bombers, old C. K. and Silent Storm were
all there in one glorious mixup of lights and shadows.