The period of their basic training at old Fort Des Moines was drawing to a close. Three more days and they would be scattered far and wide. Some, it is true, would remain for further training in the Motor Transport School, and Cooks’ and Bakers’ School. Some would take up officers’ training, but out of the thousand who had been in training for nearly four weeks, the greater number would be scattered to the four winds.

“Just think,” Betty sighed as she and Norma stepped out into a glorious springlike morning. “To leave this lovely place for some Army camp!”

“But that’s why we came here!” Norma protested. “I’m eager to start doing some real work.”

“Yes, and you’re just the one who is most likely to be kept here to enter officers’ training.” There was admiration in Betty’s voice, and a suggestion of envy. “Lucky girl, to have such a grand Dad.”

Then Norma made a strange remark. “I’m not sure that I want to be an officer—at least, not yet.”

“Don’t be silly!” Betty exploded. “Who wouldn’t like to be an officer? When you arrive at your Army camp you’re right up there with the rest of the officers.”

“Bill’s a buck private, and he’s good enough for me. Besides—Oh! Come on. Let’s get our morning coffee. This is the day of the big parade.”

Yes, this was the day. And such a glorious day! For weeks it had been too cold for a parade. Snow had lain on the parade ground. But now the snow was gone. The ground was frozen, but the sun was bright.

“Six thousand women!” Norma thought as a thrill ran up her spine.

Then suddenly her heart skipped a beat. She was to lead her own company. She was the only basic on whom such an honor had been conferred. She would do her best. Would it be good enough? Then there was that other—that very special thing. She shuddered afresh. And that morning for the first time she dropped her big handleless cup with a bang and a splash on the table.

“Nerves,” suggested Betty.

“A bad omen.” Norma frowned.

“No, a good one,” Betty countered. “Shows you’re sweating them out right now. You’ll be cool as a cucumber when the time comes.”

At one-thirty that afternoon they assembled on the parade grounds. Slowly they formed into companies and took their places in line.

Since this was to be a gala occasion, a military band from an Army post had been imported.

Each company had its flag and its leader. Norma thrilled to her finger tips as she stepped out before her “Hup! Two! Three!” Company.

“If only Dad were here!” she thought. “Why? Oh, why didn’t I ask him to come!”

By the time they were all in their places, the reviewing stand was all aglitter with officers’ insignia and decorations.

A hush fell over the ancient parade ground.

As the band struck up The Star-Spangled Banner they stood at rigid attention. When this was over, Norma glanced hastily over her company. It was perfect. Never, she was sure, had there been such a group of girls.

Suddenly the band struck up Sousa’s stirring march, The Stars and Stripes Forever, and the parade began.

To Norma it was all a glorious dream. The flags, the music, the bright sunshine, great officers—some young and dashing, some subdued and grave, standing in review.

“But this is only the beginning,” she told herself. “There is more—much more.”

This was true, for once as she drilled her own company at dusk on the ancient grounds, having chosen a dark corner, they had put on something very special. It had been great fun, and gave them a thrill as well.

They had, however, made one mistake—the red brick officer’s home facing that corner of the parade ground was occupied by the commanding officer.

Hearing the rattle of drums, she had slipped on her fur coat and had stepped out on the veranda.

“Thrilled and charmed,” as she expressed it, by their performance, she had come down off the porch to congratulate their officer.

When she found a private at their head, she was amazed, for Norma was putting her company through an intricate drill.

“My dear, it is marvelous!” she enthused, when it was over. “And this little—ah—specialty of yours is charming. Let us keep it a secret, shall we? Until the day of the parade?”

“You mean—” Norma stared.

“Your company shall do this as something extra after the parade is over.”

Norma gulped as she recalled the stirring words.

Without a word she saluted the commanding officer.

And that was why a chill sometimes ran up her spine, as the grand little army of WACs swept down the field. That certain “something extra” was yet to come.

The parade, with its marches and counter marches, in close formation and open formation, following the band down the long field and back again, was an inspiring sight. There were those there that day who realized as never before what war could do to a nation and her people.

Since it had been announced by megaphone that an extra feature would follow the grand parade, the WACs, once their formation was broken, joined the onlookers at the side, all but Norma and her company. These hastened to one of the barracks.

Marching in close formation they were soon back on the field. However, three of their members had undergone a speedy transformation. Or were they members of the company at all? The spectators were unable to tell.

Leading the trio was what appeared to be a tall, gray haired man. In his hand he carried a drum. Behind him marched a mannish figure carrying a fife, and after him came a boy, also with a drum. Hatless, the man with the fife wearing a bandage on his head; and the other two lined up behind their leader, Norma, and behind them marched the khaki-clad company.

Suddenly, at a signal from Norma, the trio snapped to attention. Instantly the roll of drums and the shrill whistle of a fife greeted the listeners’ ears.

Then, electrified, the audience knew. The three figures represented a picture they had known from childhood, The Spirit of Seventy-six.

Led by these three, the khaki host marched with perfect rhythm halfway down the field and back again.

An awed silence followed. Then rose such a cheer as the ancient barracks had seldom echoed back, even in the old Indian days.

Frightened—all but overcome by her sudden triumph, Norma tried to hide among her now broken ranks, but all in vain.

She was searched out and led to the grandstand. The first person she met was a distinguished-looking, gray-haired man with one empty sleeve.

“Dad!” she cried.

Soon she was being greeted by high-ranking officers and other honored guests.

“I shall recommend you for officers’ training,” the commanding officer whispered in her ear.

“Oh! But I’m not sure that I want to be an officer!” The cry escaped unbidden from Norma’s lips.

“We shall see,” was the reply.

Lieutenant Warren, her beloved Lieutenant, who was standing near, said:

“I would like to have you and your father at my house for dinner tonight. You know my house?”

Norma nodded.

“Will you come?”

Norma looked into her father’s eyes. Then she said, “Yes, thank you. That will be fine.”

As she stepped from the platform, Norma felt that she had lived a whole week in one short hour. But her day was not half done.