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.