  Gale was surprised and startled by her visitor. She had talked to the colonel once, and that only the day before. He had suggested that she go out and practice with Sergeant MacBride, and had named the hour. She had kept the appointment. But after that? Thrills and chills still coursed through her being at thought of those exciting moments. The colonel carried no tommy gun now, and his dress was no longer unconventional. She found it difficult to believe that this immaculately dressed officer, whose buttons and insignia shone, and whose pink cheeks were the last touch in perfection, should ever have led a group of ragged barefooted men and girls down a river and over a mountain. “Have good practice today?” he asked. A strange smile played about his lips. “Yes. Ver—very good.” She swallowed hard. “Very fine practice, and—and” the words came unbidden “Grand hunting.” He did not start or stare—merely smiled wisely—a smile that said plainer than words,—“Umm! You and I have a secret, a very fine secret.” The colonel leaned forward in his chair. “I had been tipped off that there would be an air raid.” His voice was low. He glanced over his shoulder. “I have had a great deal of experience with men soldiers and nurses, but none at all with lady soldiers. I had my own ideas regarding their reactions once they were under fire. Others,” he paused, “Er—well—they had different ideas. “I hope you’ll forgive me if—” “Oh! You’re forgiven!” the girl exclaimed softly. “I—I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” “For what?” he asked simply. “For believing that I wasn’t soft—that I could take it.” “That’s all right,” he beamed. “That’s exactly what I did believe, and now I know. “Listen.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I lived in China a long time before the war. I speak Chinese like a Chinaman. I was in China for three years as an observer, watching the Japs fight the Chinese. “I’m a hard man. War is my business. But China wrung my heart. I have seen whole families, men, women and children who had tramped five hundred miles to a place of safety where they could start again. And always with a merry laugh on their lips, a laugh at Fate. The Chinese people will win the war. A people who laugh at Fate as they have laughed, cannot lose. “That does not mean that they have not suffered,” he went on. “I have seen women and children blown to bits by shells and bombs; seen them burned in their homes; watched delicately bred women trudge on foot weary miles day after day. And I have asked myself, ‘Are American women more important in the sight of God than these?’ Like American women Chinese women bear children and love them. They help to make a home for them. If occasion arises, they die for them cheerfully. No woman can do more. And these are the people we are to fight for. China is our destination—China and then Tokio. Time is precious. Too many already have perished. We must do all we can, all of us, men and women alike.” “Yes.” Gale’s voice was husky. “Yes. That’s what I think. I—I would like to start tomorrow for Burma and then China.” “I believe you would. I believe you would,” the colonel repeated solemnly. They talked for some time about the mystery, the beauty and the enchantment of India. “The temples are unusual and quite fascinating,” the colonel rumbled. “I suggest that you visit some of them, particularly the Buddhist temples. Those Buddhist priests are very hospitable. Everyone, the humblest and the very great are welcome there, welcome to food, shelter and all that they have to give. “But don’t wait too long for that. The time is short. We shall be going—” The colonel brought himself up short. “As I was saying,” his voice rumbled again, “India is fascinating, very enchanting. “But I have an appointment!” He looked at his watch, then leapt to his feet. “Well, goodbye and good hunting to you.” He shot her a flashing gleam, then he was gone. “This surely is a crazy world,” Gale thought to herself. “Here is the colonel believing in us not as women but as soldiers, and here is Colonel Mary Noble Hatch, a perfect lady, who had devoted her life to the task of molding the character of young girls and who is now the head of all the WACS in India, holding up a nice, soft, refined finger and saying: ‘Tut! Tut! Naughty! Naughty! Girls weren’t made to fight wars. How utterly terrible!’” Rising, she marched away to her room, and there she met with a surprise. A WAC she had seen but never spoken to, was seated in her favorite chair, and in the corner opposite was an extra bed. “You’re Gale Janes?” The girl sprang up. “May I salute you?” “You may do as you like about that,” Gale replied quietly. “As you know, I’m not an officer. My rank is the same as yours, so—” In spite of this the girl’s hand rose in a snappy salute. “For gallantry in action,” she said soberly. “Great Scott!” Gale exclaimed. “Has it gotten around like that? Mary Noble Hatch will send me back to America on the first boat.” “No,” said the girl. “It’s not nearly as bad as that. Here. This must be your chair. I’m the latest comer, so—” “Keep it.” Gale waved her back. “I really like this one with the mahogany seat. It’s so hard and sort of substantial, like—” the words came unbidden—“like our colonel.” The girl’s big round eyes opened wide. “Just like our colonel,” she agreed. Then she settled back in her chair. She was a rather plump girl with a round face, eyes wide apart, and a high forehead. Gale was sure she was going to like her. She already had a roommate, but in this war people lived as they must. “They crowded me in on you,” the girl apologized. “Wanted my room for one of the higherups. I—” Gale was due for a shock—“I’m only the colonel’s yeoman (secretary to you).” “Are you the colonel’s secretary?” Gale leaned forward in her chair to extend a hand. “Here! Shake! You’re just the person I want to know most. You shall have my easy chair for keeps, my bed too, if you want it, and the five pound box of chocolates I just received from home.” “Say! What’s this?” The girl’s lips parted. “I didn’t say I was the colonel—only his yeoman!” At that they both laughed. “I heard you the first time,” Gale said at last. “By the way, your first name is Isabelle, isn’t it?” “Yes, and the last is Jackson.” “Well, Isabelle Jackson, you’re an angel sent from Heaven. There are a few little things I want from the colonel, and the colonel’s secretary is just the one to get them for me.” “I’m not so sure about that,” Isabelle replied modestly. “Just what is it you want?” “The colonel is going back to Burma?” Gale leaned forward eagerly. “Oh, undoubtedly!” “And very soon?” “That, of course, I couldn’t tell you, even if I knew.” “Of course not. I’m sorry. It really doesn’t matter just when. The point is, when he does go, I want to go with him.” “There’s nothing much I can do about that.” Isabelle settled back in her chair. “You’ll have to win the right to go. Anyway, that’s my guess. And I might add, you’ve got a pretty swell start.” “What do you know about all that?” Gale demanded. “Everything,” was the quiet reply. “I’m the colonel’s secretary. There isn’t much I can tell you, but I guess it won’t hurt if I just whisper a word or two.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Lieutenant Hatch was in the colonel’s headquarters late this afternoon and raised a merry fuss about some WAC who knows, it seems, all there is to know about radar, and who, this very afternoon, somehow got mixed up in the messy and dangerous business of shooting down a poor little Jap bomber. Perhaps you know who that WAC was.” “Perhaps I do,” Gale agreed. “That’s fine,” Isabelle beamed. “Let’s not mention her name.” “We won’t,” Gale agreed. “But the colonel—how did he—” “How’d he stand the storm?” Isabelle laughed happily. “How does he stand any storm? How did he stand defeat in Burma? How did he stand the long tough retreat? Like a man and a colonel, that’s how. And I don’t think—” the words came slowly—“I don’t think anyone is going to tell him how he is to use men and women under his command.” “That,” said Gale, “is swell.” Just then a miniature cyclone hit the place. That is to say Gale’s other roommate breezed in and with her was Than Shwe, the little Burmese nurse. “Jan, this is our new roommate,” Gale said with a grin. Everyone who looked at Jan McPherson, the girl to whom Gale spoke, grinned. Jan was that kind of a person. More often than not she was grinning, as indeed she was at that moment. “Oh! One more of us!” Jan exclaimed. “Golly! That’s swell!” “She’s Isabelle Jackson, and what’s more, she’s the colonel’s secretary.” “Oh, golly! The colonel’s lady!” Jan exploded. Little Than Shwe was visibly impressed. “I didn’t say the colonel’s lady. His yeoman—secretary!” Gale insisted. “I’m sorry,” Jan apologized. “I was thinking of that poem, ‘Rosey O’Grady and the colonel’s lady are sisters under the skin.’” “Probably they are,” Gale said. “But the people who sent us over here to help fight a war seem to think we’re all ladies and should be kept in a good safe place.” “Good safe place!” Jan scoffed. “Who wants that! My Dad was an army sergeant most of his life. I was born under a truck in the rain. I’ve been on a truck or a jeep all my life, and I’m going to this war if I have to take a crew haircut, fake my identification papers and turn myself into a buck private.” “Oh! I don’t think it’s going to be as bad as that,” Isabelle protested. “I don’t care.” Jan drew up her hundred and fifty odd pounds of good sturdy stuff, as she said: “With me it’s Burma or bust! Where the colonel goes, I go.” “Burma or bust,” Than Shwe repeated. “That sounds like the colonel himself.” “It does, at that,” Isabelle agreed. “Suppose we draw up a petition, asking the colonel to take all of us along,” Gale suggested to Isabelle. “Do you think that would help?” “It might,” Isabelle agreed. “I’m sure it would do no harm.” At that they settled down to the task of drawing up a dignified and appropriate petition. When it was finished, Isabelle typed it, and they all—even Than Shwe—signed it. “Who knows but this petition may help make history?” Isabelle murmured impressively. And indeed, who did know? |
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