In the hours that followed every nerve was tense. They had won another battle but not without loss. The terrors of war at sea had come to stand out before every WAVE on board in sharper reality than ever before.

It was so with Sally and Nancy. They had volunteered for sea duty and, as long as their services in this capacity were required, there would be no turning back. The spirit of youth that had flowed in their veins as they boarded the ship only a few days before was being exchanged for sterner stuff.

Uppermost in the minds of all was the question of enemy subs. Twice they had been defeated, but the convoy they had hoped to destroy was priceless. Would they strike again?

Throughout one long, sleepless night both Sally and Nancy hovered over their secret radio. The “put-put-put” of strange enemy broadcasts was coming in constantly. There were still plenty of subs about. At first they appeared to be scattered far apart. But in time they seemed to be assembling for attack.

Every hour Sally reported to the Captain. In spite of the fact that it was impossible to tell the exact position of this sub pack, at three in the morning huge four-motored bombers, hovering overhead, were radioed a message and they went zooming away in the bright moonlight.

An hour later a message came in that they had surprised two large subs on the surface, probably engaged in charging batteries, and had sunk them both.

Just before dawn Sally, tired but happy, reported to the Captain:

“The loss of those two subs seems to have broken the pack up.”

“What’s happening now?” he asked.

“They’re spreading out. Their messages are fading.”

“Perhaps they have given it up and are heading for their home ports. If so, that’s good news. In less than twenty-four hours we shall be safe in port.”

“Oh! Happy day!” Sally exclaimed.

And it was indeed a happy day when, with her convoy, every precious ship of it safe, the aircraft carrier dropped anchor in a broad harbor. A small puffing tug came alongside to take members of the crew, who had been granted shore leave, to the dock. Among these were Sally, Nancy, Erma Stone, Riggs, and Mrs. Duke.

Sally, Nancy, and Danny’s mother stuck close together once they entered the streets of the only European city they had ever known.

“So this is merry England,” said Nancy. “It doesn’t seem very merry.”

And indeed it did not. A heavy fog hung over the city. The streets were narrow and dark. The people were poorly dressed. They seemed overworked and weary.

“They are merry in a way, all the same,” said Sally. “Take a look at their faces.”

Nancy did just that and was amazed. In every face was the glorious light of hope.

“How can you be happy after so many months of war?” Sally asked of a very old lady.

“Oh, the Americans are coming,” the cracked old voice replied. “You are an American, aren’t you?” she asked, peering at Sally’s blue uniform.

“Yes, of course. I’m a WAVE.”

“Oh! A lady soldier?”

“No, a lady sailor,” Sally laughed.

“Then you were in the convoy that just came in.” The woman’s voice dropped to a whisper. “How many of your ships did they get?”

Sally hesitated. She looked the woman over. She was English from head to toe. She was old and tired, hungry, too, yet she dared be cheerful. She wanted good news. Well, then, she should have it.

“Not a ship,” she whispered.

“Oh, then you brought us good luck,” the old woman cackled joyously. “You must come again and again.”

“I think I shall,” said Sally. “It’s been truly wonderful.

“And terrible,” she whispered to herself when the old woman had moved on.

Sally put a hand in her coat pocket, then laughed low. In that pocket was a present for someone.

A little farther on they overtook a small girl. She was thinly clad. Her thin face appeared pinched by the fog and cold.

“See, I have a present for you,” said Sally, taking her hand out of the pocket. In the hand were two hard-boiled eggs. She had saved them from her breakfast.

The girl’s eyes shone, but she did not take the eggs. Instead she grasped Sally by the hand. After leading her down a narrow alley, she opened a door in the brick wall, then stood politely aside while Sally, Nancy, and Mrs. Duke walked in.

The room they entered was a small kitchen. It was scrupulously clean. Beside a small fire on an open hearth stood the girl’s mother.

“Oh, you have brought us company, Mary!” she exclaimed. “These fine ladies from the boats. Won’t you be seated?” she invited.

“Oh, we won’t stay,” Sally smiled. “I offered Mary two eggs. I saved them just for her. Why didn’t she take them?”

“Two eggs in the middle of the month!” the mother exclaimed. “That is unheard of. One egg at the first of each month. That is all we are allowed.”

“But if the eggs are a present from America?” Sally insisted.

“Oh! That is different.” The woman’s face beamed.

“Then you and Mary shall each have an extra egg.” Sally placed them on the table.

“May God bless you.” The woman was close to tears.

“That,” said Danny’s mother, once they were on the street, “is why we came.”

“All those ships,” Sally exclaimed, “and all safe! I’ve been told that our convoy brought three shiploads of food.”

“Food will win the war,” said Nancy. “We’ll come again.”

Sally’s impatience grew with every passing hour. Why weren’t they heading back? Every hour’s delay seemed a crime, for Danny was still out there on the tossing sea. Or was he? She dared still to hope.

“We’ll be heading back just as soon as we take on fuel and get our clearance,” said the Captain. “I’m as anxious to be moving as you are.

“And once we get started, we’ll really make time. When it’s not hampered by a convoy, our ship can do close to thirty knots. We’ll steer a straight course. It won’t be long, once we are on our way.”

Sally did not say: “Long before what?” She knew he meant long before they reached the spot where Danny had last been seen.

“The Skipper never forgets one of his boys,” had been Riggs’s word for it. “And he never fails to do all he can for them.”

On the second day Nancy remained on board, but Sally and Danny’s mother once again went ashore.

“The time will pass quicker that way,” Mrs. Duke said.

“Yes, and while we are in England we should see all we can of the English people. The more we learn of them the more we’ll know the things we’re fighting for.”

By mid-afternoon they were ready for a rest. Seeing a throng entering a service club, they followed.

An entertainment was in progress. A group of Tommies was putting on an amusing skit about life on the African front.

When this was done, the band from Sally’s own ship came on the platform to give the English people a taste of real American swing tunes. They were received with hilarious applause.

Then a beautiful lady in a gorgeous costume mounted the platform and, as a pianist gave her the chords, began to sing. She had a marvelous deep voice. Being English and having known the cruel war as only the English people do, she sang with power and feeling. The song was entitled “Danny Boy.”

“Come on,” Sally whispered with something like a sob. “I can’t listen to all of that. Let’s get out.”

They did hear more, for as they moved down the aisle and out into the open air, the words were wafted back to them.

After walking away a little, they sat down on a bench at the edge of a narrow square. Neither spoke. There was no need. The rare, bright sun came out to bless them. From the harbor came the hoarse call of a ship’s whistle. Sally wished it were her own, but knew it was not.

Then, suddenly, another sound reached their ears, the rather high-pitched laugh that could only come from the throat of an American.

Sally looked back. It was Erma Stone who had laughed. Her arm was linked in that of an admiral. She had had a shampoo. Her suit was pressed. She “looked like a million” and was beaming on the admiral in a dazzling manner.

“Life is strange,” Sally whispered to her white-haired companion.

“Yes, child,” was the solemn reply. “Very, very strange.”

That night Sally was awakened by the throb of the ship’s motors. They were on their way back.