_Gale Gets Her Plane_
Jan was frantic. In the air raid shelter, gas from the explosion was
stifling. "I've got to get Gale out of here," she told herself. She
tried to move the steel door. It was jammed,--would not move--but was
still half open. She was able to crowd her ample body through the
opening. Outside she worked frantically removing rocks that shut away
the outside air. After that she dragged the unconscious form of her
companion from the cellar and up over tumbled rocks to a place in the
sunshine above.
All the time she was listening, watching. The plane might return. The
roar of motors, the rat-tat-tat of machine-gun fire now seemed far away.
But who could tell what a moment might bring?
With her companion lying on a sunny rock, Jan rushed back to the cellar
for a gallon thermos bottle filled with cold water.
Back at Gale's side, in her excitement she poured the entire contents of
the bottle on Gale's face. Some of it went into Gale's mouth. Suddenly
she sat up, coughing and spouting water.
"Oh! Oh! Thank God you're not dead!" Jan was fairly beside herself with
joy.
"Of--of course not," Gale sputtered.
"Well, anyway, you passed out."
"Wha--what happened?" Gale asked.
"It wasn't a direct hit,"--Jan glanced about. "If it had been it would
have blown us to glory. It blew the top of our hideout and your radar
set down to the rocks below."
"We--we have to get that radar set. Remember. Three Secrets of Radar!"
Gale was feeling better. "Listen!" she whispered. "They're coming back."
"Oh, no." Jan studied the sky. "The fighting is far away."
"One plane is coming. I hear it," Gale insisted.
There came the sound of voices.
"Who's that?" Gale opened her eyes, then wiped the water from her face.
"It's our Chinese guard. They weren't killed. That's swell!" said Jan.
Two youthful Chinese soldiers appeared round a ledge, dragging a heavy
machine-gun after them.
"Too bad," said the taller of the pair. "Wanna shoot this plane. Can't
shoot airplane--too fast."
"Let me see that gun." Gale staggered to her feet.
"Made in America," she murmured. "Good old America!"
With skilled hands she set the gun up behind a pile of rocks. Then she
examined each part with care.
"Good gun," she told Jan. "My father is an expert on machine-guns. He
showed me all about them."
"Can you shoot them?" Jan asked.
"Can I?" Gale laughed hoarsely. There was still some water in her
throat. "Father had a range set up. We practiced together. I used to
beat him."
"I bet you did," Jan replied admiringly.
"Listen!" Gale held up a hand. "That plane is coming back. Wants to see
if he got us."
"Maybe he got one more--'nother bomb." The tall Chinese soldier turned
green as he spoke.
"Perhaps they have," Gale agreed. "You'd better go hide again."
"If you wantee me, I stayee." The Chinese boy was game.
"No. You go. I'll shoot that plane." Gale ran her eye over the barrel.
"You shoot him?" The Chinaman stared.
"Sure. Why not?" Gale adjusted the sight. "You scram!"
In ten seconds the guards had lost themselves among the rocks.
Gale and Jan were now lying flat on the rocks.
"Jan,"--Gale's voice was husky. "You crawl back down into that cellar.
Crawl. Don't walk. That way he can't see you. Let him think we're dead."
"Wha--what will you do?" Jan breathed.
"I'll lie right here and when the time comes I'll bend my finger, that's
all," was Gale's slow reply. "I don't like that Jap, not a bit. Think of
coming back to gloat over what you've done to a couple of girls!"
"He didn't know we were girls," said Jan.
"Oh no? Well, perhaps he did. They know too much, those little brown
men, or think they do. Well, here comes one that may not know a thing
after today.
"Now you slide out of here, and slide fast!" Gale commanded. And Jan
slid.
The Jap plane had been coming in low. That was so any American planes
above wouldn't see it. Perhaps the pilot had been ordered back to
observe and report. Gale wouldn't know about that,--not for sure. As the
Chinese soldier had said, he might be bringing in one more bomb to
finish the job. One thing was sure. He did have a machine-gun. That was
dangerous.
Gale's suit was the color of the rocks. But her face? She tore a hole in
her khaki handkerchief, then tied it on as a mask.
The plane was coming up now. "Report to Tojo, will you?" she hissed.
"Perhaps you'll report to that other big man who was killed in an
airplane months ago."
Her finger was crooked around the trigger, her gun aimed. She might have
to change the aim a bit,--not much though. These little brown men had
one-track minds. She had seen the course he took before. "He won't
change," she told herself.
Gale was right. He did not change, but she did. A sudden dizziness took
possession of her. Was it the fumes she had been breathing, or the knock
on her head when she fell? The reason did not matter. All that mattered
now was that everything went dim before her eyes.
Like Samson, she prayed,--"God, give me my sight."
As if by a miracle, her sight was restored.
And now, here was the plane. It was close, very close. Three seconds
now.
"One, two, three," she counted. Then her gun spoke in a long, rasping
chatter. She didn't want to look but she had to. Perhaps she had missed.
Perhaps he did carry a bomb.
She saw the look of pained surprise on the pilot's face. His engine was
half shot away. She changed her aim a little and fired another volley.
After that she did not look. It wasn't necessary. Half a minute later
the sound of an explosion came up from below.
"Yes," she whispered, "He did have another bomb."
She stood up. She was trembling like a leaf.
"Gale! You are a mess!" said a voice from behind her. "Your face is
black and your hair is flying wild."
"Who cares?" Gale laughed hoarsely. "The soldiers have a song they sing.
I don't like it, but it fits just now:
"What makes the wild WACS wild, Bill? What makes the wild WACS wild?"
she sang.
"They're wild because they're wild, Bill."
"They're wild because they're wild," Jan chimed in, "They're wild
because they're wild."
"Look!" Gale exclaimed suddenly. "Who's boss here?"
"You are, of course." Jan's chin dropped.
"Then why didn't you go down in that cellar as I commanded you to?"
"Listen!" said Jan. "What did you do when your father was a sheriff and
got into a fight?"
"I climbed onto a chair, of course. He was my daddy."
"All right. You're MY pal. You might have passed out again. Then I'd
have had to drag you into the cellar."
"I nearly did," Gale confessed.
"Well, then, there you are!" Jan laughed softly. "Besides, I wanted to
see you shoot that plane down," Jan admitted. "I knew you'd do it.
You're just wonderful."
"Ah, Jan darling!" Gale threw an arm over the big girl's shoulder.
"You're a real pal!"
Had some artist seen them then, their clothes torn and disarranged,
their faces black and hair flying, two WACS facing the sun on a ridge
down which all their equipment and a Jap bomber had gone, he might have
painted their picture and immortalized them forever.
As it was, Gale heaved a deep sigh, then said in a matter-of-fact voice,
"Jan, we've just got to rescue my radar set."
"It's smashed to bits," Jan sighed wearily.
"It may not be. And if it is, the parts are all there." Gale's tone was
insistent. "And think what it would mean if some dirty enemy spy got it!
Come on! Let's see if we can get down there." So down they started.
And as they went Gale told herself,--"I mustn't forget to listen on the
radio tonight at ten for Jimmie. He said he might talk from another
world." He did, almost, at that.