  The meal over, they were once more on their way. The road grew rougher and steeper. Jan was forever switching from two-wheel to four-wheel driving. At one time they seemed about to slide back down hill, but the plucky driver held the jeep to its course and the jeep did its bit by turning in a perfect performance. The first faint touch of a false dawn was showing in the east when the road levelled off. For another mile they drove in what to Gale seemed complete darkness. Then they came to a halt. A moment later a flashlight appeared by the door. They recognized the colonel’s voice as he said, flashing his light way to the right: “Your tent is over there.” The light shone for ten seconds on a small, square tent. For the first time Gale discovered that they were surrounded and probably overshadowed by immense hardwood tropical trees. “That’s why it’s so completely dark,” she told herself. “Drive your jeep close to the tent,” said the colonel. “Then come back here. Someone will take you to the mess tent for a cup of coffee before you turn in. “We sleep daytimes and travel nights,” he added. “However, in this case we are at the end of our journey. But not for long—not for long,” he repeated softly. There was a meaning in these last few words that dug deep into Gale’s soul. A few moments later they were all set for their cup of coffee. Mess kits and cups were passed out to them. They stood in line with the soldiers and received their portions of oatmeal, toast, bacon and coffee. Seated at a plain board table, they found themselves opposite a group of doughboys who stared at them, but said never a word. “They don’t like to see us here,” Gale thought to herself. “Or do they?” The meal over, they returned to the tent. Buckets of hot water stood outside the tent door. With little cries of appreciation, they fairly dove into these to scrub the grime of the road from their faces and the blear from their eyes. The sun was just sending long, searching beams of light down between the trees that appeared to reach to the sky when at last they tumbled into their bunks, buried their faces in pillows, and prepared to sleep. Gale did not go to sleep at once. The movement of dim lights and darting shadows were in her eyes; the clash of changing gears rattled through her subconscious mind. “I’m here,” she thought, “in the heart of a wilderness, on my way to war. Perhaps I have already arrived. This may be the fringe of an army camp. The whole army may arrive tomorrow night. At dawn there may be a battle.” That her imagination was taking her for a ride she realized well enough, but as she lay there in the midst of that vast silent forest, sounds began to reach her ears, sounds both familiar and startling. Indistinct at first, these sounds took on form and color. They came from somewhere away to the right. They appeared to come from ground level. “Airplanes,” she thought. What were these? American planes, or enemy fighters and bombers searching out their hiding place? “Let them search,” she thought. “They’ll never find us here!” Then a feeling took possession of her. “I shan’t be at work searching them out!” She half rose from her cot, then settled back. “What nonsense! I have neither equipment nor a gunner. And in this dense forest it would be impossible to distinguish them from the treetops.” At that she fell asleep. Even in her dreams those distant roaring motors haunted her, for in those dreams flying in the smallest kind of a plane, she darted between great trees like pillars of a Greek temple with the greatest of ease. Spying a spot of sunlight, like a great silver butterfly, she slipped out into the glorious sunshine above the sea of green that was the forest from above. Pursued by a huge enemy plane that spouted fire, she slipped back through the hole to re-enter the shadows, only in the end to crash a wing against a giant tree and to go spinning down. In the agony of fright she tried to cry out, and so wakened herself to the reality of cot, tent, and forest shadows. That the planes were real enough she was to learn later. Still more surprising was the fact that her friend Jimmie Nightingale flew one of the planes. In discovering this she was to let herself in on one of the great secrets of this dark forest. But for the time she drifted off into dreamless sleep. They slept until midday. After that they slicked up, soldier style, and marched out with their mess kits. When four American and three Chinese nurses came from tents adjoining their own to join them at mess, they realized that they were not alone. “You will be working with us,” a gray haired nurse said to Than Shwe. “Oh! Then I shall be happy!” the little Burmese girl exclaimed. “To be near the front to care for wounded soldiers, that is for me a little bit of Heaven.” “That is a nice way to say it,” was the quick reply. “That’s just the way I feel about it. We shall be friends.” “But is there a hospital here in the forest?” Isabelle asked, surprised. “Oh yes! Not a large one, but well equipped. After our meal I am to show it to you.” After that they marched in silence beneath the great trees. “It’s like a big church,” Jan whispered. “The kind they have in England.” And so it was. “Why! This is quite a hospital!” Gale exclaimed as an hour later the head nurse led them into a long, low building of permanent wood construction. “I thought it would be only a tent,” she explained. “Not a bad location for a base-hospital,” was the quiet reply. “Only one wing is occupied now. But tomorrow? Who knows?” The motherly woman sighed. “This is war.” One fact amazed Gale. In one corner were sixteen wounded aviators. Six were Chinese, the others Americans. “I hadn’t heard about air battles in this sector.” She showed her surprise. “In war there are many surprises,” said the nurse. “This is only the beginning for you. Each day your horizon will be broadened, but only at the commanding officer’s order.” Gale talked to some of the young American flyers. They spoke with pleasure of America, and asked many questions. Not one word did they say of their exploits. To a man their chief desire was to get well and to get back into the conflict. “Oh! I want to get back to work!” Gale exclaimed as she left the building. “Something tells me you will be back at work sooner than you think,” said the nurse. She was not wrong. That evening Gale received a message from the colonel. “Will call for you an hour before dawn,” was all it said. Needless to say she was dressed and ready when Jan, with the Colonel in the back seat of her jeep, came chugging in through the dark forest. With their destination still a mystery, the colonel, who had handed Gale up to a place beside him, directed Jan in and out among the trees until a winding road that climbed steeply came under their wheels. “Follow this road until you come to a small cabin,” was the colonel’s instruction. After that he began talking in low serious tones to Gale. “I am taking you to your place of labor,” he told her. “It’s not much like the one you just left. It’s much wilder and more dangerous. But you asked for it.” “Yes,” she agreed. “I asked for it, and I—I think I can take it.” “Your father was a soldier, and a good one. I know him well,” he said quietly. “Oh! Do you?” A warm glow of appreciation and deepening friendship flooded Gale’s being. “In your new station,” the colonel went on, “save for Jan and two Chinese guards, you will be alone.” “Mac?” she asked. “He will not be there. Your post will be an exposed spot, but you shall be well hidden. We couldn’t risk anti-aircraft fire from that position. It would give us away.” Gale felt a chill run up her spine. “Jan,” she thought, “two Chinese guards,—practically alone, no protecting guns.” They came to a stop at the edge of the forest. “From this spot you will always go on foot, and always before dawn, or after dark.” The colonel produced a small flashlight. They walked round the cliff, then began to climb. Their path was a stairway cut into the solid rock. When Gale and Jan were completely out of breath, they made a turn to find themselves facing what appeared to be one more rocky wall, which it was, save for a low, narrow door. Once they had passed through that door and closed it, the colonel snapped on a light, and they found themselves in a room some twelve feet square. The wall, even the ceiling of this room were of rock. A small window had been cut opposite the door. This, at that moment, was closed by a heavy shutter. “This, for the present,” said the colonel—his tone was impressive—“will be your post. It is not entirely safe. It is extremely important. I may tell you quite frankly,”—his voice rumbled low—“that if there was a man under my command who could do a better job up here than you, he would be stationed here.” “Than—Oh, thanks!” Gale stammered. “Don’t thank me.” His manner was almost blunt. “This is war. In war, the best man for each post must fill it. You are the one for this station. You have been tried by fire, and have not been found wanting. Japs beat the tar out of us in Burma. Now we’re going back.” “And beat the tar out of them,” said Jan. “Exactly,” said the colonel. “And now,”—his voice dropped—“I suggest that we have a cup of coffee. In half an hour I shall give you a glimpse of our promised land.” “Burma?” Gale whispered in surprise. “None other,” he smiled. “What magic!” she murmured. To this he made no reply. But producing a large thermos bottle, the colonel took a loaf of bread, an electric toaster, and half a dozen doughnuts from a niche in the stone wall. “All the comforts of home,” he murmured as the two girls assisted in preparing breakfast. |
|
