The following afternoon, a large Mack truck loaded to capacity with a variety of heavy baggage, ten nurses and two doctors, recently arrived from the States for duty in Nicaragua, was slowly rumbling along its way to Managua, over a treacherous dirt road.

As they came to the end of the road, the Marine, driving the truck, pulled up at the edge of a river with a jolt.

“What will we have to do, sergeant,” the doctor sitting beside him, asked, “ferry across or swim?”

The Marine yawned indifferently, stood up and allowed his eyes to search the river from north to south, shaking his head dubiously and slouching back in his seat.

“Funny thing, lieutenant,” the Marine announced. “There was a bridge over this stream last night but it ain’t there now.”

“A washout?” questioned the medical man.

“Or else Sandino came down and busted it up for firewood,” the Marine speculated. “But don’t worry, we’ll get it across. The water is pretty shallow up this way. Some of the boys went over on horseback and didn’t even wet their shoe tops.”

“Yes, but a heavy truck—that’s another thing,” one of the nurses added. “If the river bed is all sand, we’re liable to get stuck.”

“You just let me attend to that, sister,” the Marine replied with a broad grin, then stepping on the gas as he shifted his gears, the big car responded with a snort and leaped forward, jolting its occupants.

No sooner had they reached the center of the stream, than the car stopped suddenly, throwing its passengers forward as the rear wheels kept spinning, splashing mud and water but not budging an inch.

Gradually the truck sunk lower and lower in the dirty waters of the river bed as the terrified female occupants clung to each other with fright, crying for help.

“Pipe down,” the sergeant yelled. “You’ll scare the fishes.”

The Medical Corps lieutenant rose and vainly attempted to quiet his charges with an assurance that everything would be all right, then turning to the man at the wheel, inquired as to what would be done.

“There’s a lot of things we can do,” the Marine drawled indifferently. “If you’re in a hurry, you might try walking.”

The lieutenant was an amusing little man, slight of stature, without any sign of hair on his head, though a carefully trained walrus mustachio gave him an appearance of a comic opera villain. He had been in the service but a few months and his first taste of campaign duty was anything but in accord with his gentle senses. He knew that it would be folly to attempt to argue with the hard-boiled Marine at the wheel, though he found sufficient relief in planning what he would have done with this man when they reached Managua and the base of military activities.

Suddenly it dawned upon him that he was a lieutenant being subjected to abuse from a mere Marine noncom.

“I’ll have you understand, sir,” he announced, pointing his finger at the sergeant as his cheeks flushed with rage, “I am a commissioned officer of the United States Navy and entitled to the consideration military regulations allow a man of my position!”

The Marine turned about slowly and eyed the little man so conscious of his own importance. He was unable to suppress any longer a loud, boisterous laugh. “What d’ya want me to do,” he inquired, “sing ‘Sonny Boy’?”

“What do I want you to do?” the medical man shrieked with rage. “I want you to hold your tongue and help me to get out of this terrible mess!”

“Okay, pardner,” the Marine replied, with devilish mischief dancing in his eyes, “I can’t hold my tongue because it’s too slippery but I’ll gladly help you out of this truck!” With that, he rose and picked the unsuspecting doctor up in his arms as the nurses looked on, unmistakably astonished, believing as the lieutenant did, that he was about to be carried across safely to the opposite shore.

The Marine stepped out on the mud guard, still holding his self-inflicted burden.

“Be careful how you do this,” the doctor warned. “Don’t let there be any slip ups!”

“There won’t be,” assured the sergeant with a blank, indifferent expression; then suddenly releasing his hands from under the man, he allowed the obfuscated doctor to fall into the dirty waters below with a resounding splash.

A terrible, deafening ululation arose from the river bed, emitted by the doctor, who scrambled to his feet, blind with rage. Drenched to the skin and covered with grime and mud, he stood shaking his fist up at the Marine with every conceivable kind of dire threat upon his lips.

The nurses, trained in the art of immobility in the face of all circumstances, were now helpless victims of fits of laughter that had literally doubled them in two.

“You’ll pay dearly for this, my good man,” the lieutenant warned menacingly. “I’ll have you court-martialed; I’ll have you put behind bars—I’ll have you shot!”

“In the arm?” the Marine retorted tantalizingly.

“Through the heart!” bellowed the little man who was completely devoid of a sense of humor; “through the heart by a military squad at sunrise!”

“You’ll have to make it later than that, Shorty; I don’t get up so early,” the sergeant shouted as the doctor scrambled through the water to the opposite shore, soon disappearing out of sight.

“You’ve ruffled his dignity disgracefully,” said Elinor, among the nurses who had applied for active duty in Nicaragua and now passengers of the ill-fated truck, stuck in the river bed.

“I guess I ruffled more than that!”

“But can’t he make it unpleasant for you?” she asked. “After all, he is a commissioned officer.”

The Marine yawned in a bored fashion and lighted a cigarette he had just rolled. “I suppose so. He’ll have me court-martialed and I’ll be fined six months’ pay, then slapped into the brig for a spell, but then, anything for a laugh, you know!”

“Won’t you mind?” she asked, astonished over his indifference.

“Well, I won’t be tickled silly over the idea, but that ain’t the worst thing could happen. Besides, I’m about fed up on this racket down here. This hangin’ around, waitin’ for somethin’ to happen is drivin’ us all loco.”

A Marine private jumped off the rear of the truck into the water and waded through to the front wheel mud guard.

“Let’s try and get out of here,” he said to the sergeant. “Give her the gas and I’ll try and push this wheel forward.”

Once more the rear wheels began to spin furiously, throwing up mud and water and drenching the Marine standing by the front mud guard.

He reached under, putting all of his weight forward in an effort to extricate the truck but the front wheels were too securely imbedded to even as much as budge an inch.

The nurses and the one remaining doctor craned their necks over the side of the truck, watching the futile progress of the puffing leatherneck in the water.

“Are we going to make it?” Elinor asked anxiously of the perspiring and mud-soaked devil dog.

“I don’t think so, lady, but that guy the sergeant threw out, he’ll probably send help when he arrives at Managua.”

“How long will it take to get another truck down here,” the other doctor asked.

“That road to the right, on the opposite bank, leads straight in to the capital,” the Marine in the water announced. “If your friend steps on it and doesn’t stop to pick daisies, they should have a truck back here in about five hours.”

The Marine’s prediction was correct, for just as the sun set over the mountain top to the west of the little river where the truck was imbedded, Lefty was but a half a mile away, driving a Ford repair car, loaded with four husky Marines besides himself.

Three weeks in the tropics had completely changed the once uncertain, overanxious boy into a calloused, self-assured man of the world, whose entire demeanor betrayed a devil-may-care attitude of total indifference.

Turning and addressing the men seated in the rear of the truck, he said with the usual anticipation of the inactive fighting man, “I hope there are some chic-looking nurses stranded out there!”

“Me too,” one of the others agreed with enthusiasm. “It’ll be a relief to see a white woman again, homely or otherwise!”

At that moment, the truck passed a couple of native girls who had stopped to look back after the American men in uniform. Lefty gazed over his shoulder and waved to them, smiling invitingly as he slowed down his speed.

The men in the rear jumped to their feet with concern, attempting to prevent the boy from giving the native women a lift.

“Hey, don’t you ever read orders?” one of them shouted. “You know men in the service aren’t allowed to mix with the natives!”

“What do I care about orders?” the boy asked with an air of defiance in his voice, though he reluctantly stepped on the gas, increasing the car’s speed, “I joined the Marines to become a flyer, not a truck driver!”

At that moment, the little car loaded with the squad of rescuers pulled up alongside of the river hank.

“Here they are now!” the driver of the imbedded truck shouted to the nurses who were drowsily napping on one another’s shoulders.

His announcement brought a stir from the passengers, who rose to their feet, waving to the approaching Marines wading out in the water toward them.

Of course, all of the occupants of the motor transport were overjoyed at the sight of the rescuers. For an entire afternoon, they had sat hunched together in an open truck, helpless victims of all sorts of insects and a boiling sun. The arrival of Lefty and the others was gratefully welcomed by everyone though not near as enthusiastically as by Elinor who sighted Phelps the minute he jumped from the driver’s seat.

Lefty was the first to reach the imbedded transport, and as he looked up at the marooned sergeant who sat slouched in his seat with his feet perched up on the driving wheel, puffing away indifferently upon the butt of a cigarette, he asked, “What’s the matter, soldier, are you stuck?”

The sergeant gazed down at his questioner with a cutting look of disgust, then partaking of one last, long puff on his cigarette, shook his head and replied sarcastically, “Naw, stupid, we ain’t stuck! I just drove Emma out here to teach her how to swim!”

“Well, you didn’t seem to teach her much,” Lefty replied, assuming a serious expression.

“Oh, we was gettin’ on dandy,” the sergeant explained ironically, “but you know how these women are! When we came this far, the old gal got an inferiority complex and wouldn’t budge!”

Lefty reached down and splashed some water over the Marine in the driver’s seat who made no attempt to avoid the barrage. The men in the water looked up at the nurses, anxiously waiting on the truck to be carried across to the opposite shore.

They walked around to the rear of the transport, forming a line, with the idea that each man was to take a waiting nurse.

Elinor felt her heart heat faster, and breathlessly she waited for an acknowledgment from Lefty who, up to this time, hadn’t seen her. She saw that he was the third in line so she stepped back, allowing the two girls behind her to come forward, thus assuring herself that no one would carry her across but Lefty.

The first Marine stepped up and with arms extended, called to the waiting nurse who was now first in line: “Allee-oop, baby!”

The woman, a giggling, self-conscious and unusually thin creature was determined to make the most of this opportunity. She stood on the edge of the truck, hesitating and grinning, blinking her eyes blithefully as she held one finger in her mouth. “Oh, I’ve never done a thing like this before in all my life!” she cooed bashfully.

“Well, I’m taking as much of a chance as you, sister,” the waiting Marine interrupted with harsh sarcasm, “so come on!”

As the two men who preceded Lefty on the line started to wade back to shore, carrying their feminine burdens, the boy stepped forward, impatiently waiting for his passenger and holding up his arms without looking up.

He felt someone’s hand touch his and then, before he knew it, there was Elinor in his arms, smiling her prettiest and looking more inviting than ever.

The unexpected appearance of this girl whom he had completely succeeded in shutting out of his life was too much for the boy. He gazed at her with open mouth and surprised, doubting eyes.

“Lefty!” she announced, making no attempt to conceal her eagerness, “I’m very glad to see you!”

An uncomfortable look shadowed the boy’s face and his eyes shifted uneasily as Elinor’s happy smile of welcome faded to an expression of keen disappointment over his indifference.

“Aren’t you glad to see me?” she asked hopefully.

“Yeah—sure I am! How have you been?”

Lefty was obviously in exactly the kind of situation that he would have given anything to avoid, and he strove to divert the trend of conversation away from anything personal.

Arriving once more upon solid ground, he released her and turned away to fetch another passenger just as he felt her hand tugging at the sleeve of his blouse.

“You don’t seem a bit glad to see me,” she said, bewildered over his enigmatic reticence.

“Sure I am,” he strove to explain in an unconvincing manner. “You’re just imagining things! Excuse me now because I—er—well, there are some more to unload!”

She stood on the hank watching him wade out into the water toward the helpless motor transport. Her eyes grew moist as she sighed deeply and felt her heart leaden with disappointment.

The little truck Lefty had driven out was standing just a few feet away. The first two nurses were climbing in the back, assisted by their Marine rescuers just as Elinor turned in their direction.

An idea came to her and she once more smiled hopefully as she ran to the car, perching herself in the seat next to the driver’s that she knew would be occupied by Lefty.

When the last nurse and final piece of baggage had been brought to shore, one of the Marines, seeing Elinor, climbed up into the seat beside her.

“Nursie,” he began softly, “you’re the best thing me eyes have lamped since I left old Joisey City!”

He felt a large hand firmly grip him by the collar and drag him from his seat to the ground.

“Just cut out that kind of stuff!” Lefty warned. “Miss Martin happens to be a lady!”

The offending Marine merely muttered something incoherent under his breath and jumped on the rear ledge of the truck as Lefty returned to the driver’s seat to be greeted by the warm, inviting and grateful eyes of Elinor.

One glance in the girl’s direction was sufficient for Lefty. With an air of uneasiness, he trained his eyes on the road straight ahead, giving the car plenty of gas and shifting his gears right into high.

Neither the boy or girl had spoken a word all the way in until they reached the outskirts of Managua with the capital city’s house tops plainly in view. Elinor then broke the long silence by asking about Panama with an assumed air of deep interest.

The very mention of his best friend’s name filled Lefty with renewed enthusiasm. Thankful to Elinor for bringing up a topic that completely placed him at ease, he once more became his own loquacious self.

“Panama? Say—he’s great! Whenever they buck up against a tough proposition around here, they elect him to face it. I overheard the major say that he was the best pilot in the squadron!”

Elinor listened patiently with a gracious smile upon her lips. Her eyes softened as she allowed her hand to touch the boy’s for a brief moment.

“Tell me about yourself, Lefty. Have they given you a chance to fly yet?”

The man who had failed, when his big chance came back in Pensacola, laughed a little ironically, bravely attempting to further lessen his insignificant rating in the service.

“Me? They know better than to trust me at the joy stick. We haven’t many planes down here and they can’t afford to have guys like me smash the few we have got into concrete walls!”

The girl struggled to find something encouraging to say but before she could bring the words beyond her lips, Lefty was once more engaged in drawing a colorful word picture of Panama and his accomplishments.

“You know where Panama is now?”

Elinor shook her head, acknowledging her ignorance as to the whereabouts of the man under discussion.

“He’s risking his life, flying through a treacherous jungle and making landings in a dangerous and hilly country to rescue some stricken Marines who had been lost until he discovered their whereabouts yesterday!”

She lowered her head, not daring to allow her eyes to meet Lefty’s now.

“He’s a very brave man—very brave,” she replied simply.

“You bet he is!” the boy agreed, his eyes sparkling at the mere recollection of the Marine sergeant’s recent deed, “And wait until he finds out you’re here! Oh, boy! Won’t that be great?”

Elinor struggled to choke back a huge lump rising in her throat, and at the same time, brushed away a drop of moisture that had been trickling down her cheek.

“Yes,” she sighed in despair. “It will be great—won’t it, Lefty?”