  Jan was frantic. In the air raid shelter, gas from the explosion was stifling. “I’ve got to get Gale out of here,” she told herself. She tried to move the steel door. It was jammed,—would not move—but was still half open. She was able to crowd her ample body through the opening. Outside she worked frantically removing rocks that shut away the outside air. After that she dragged the unconscious form of her companion from the cellar and up over tumbled rocks to a place in the sunshine above. All the time she was listening, watching. The plane might return. The roar of motors, the rat-tat-tat of machine-gun fire now seemed far away. But who could tell what a moment might bring? With her companion lying on a sunny rock, Jan rushed back to the cellar for a gallon thermos bottle filled with cold water. Back at Gale’s side, in her excitement she poured the entire contents of the bottle on Gale’s face. Some of it went into Gale’s mouth. Suddenly she sat up, coughing and spouting water. “Oh! Oh! Thank God you’re not dead!” Jan was fairly beside herself with joy. “Of—of course not,” Gale sputtered. “Well, anyway, you passed out.” “Wha—what happened?” Gale asked. “It wasn’t a direct hit,”—Jan glanced about. “If it had been it would have blown us to glory. It blew the top of our hideout and your radar set down to the rocks below.” “We—we have to get that radar set. Remember. Three Secrets of Radar!” Gale was feeling better. “Listen!” she whispered. “They’re coming back.” “Oh, no.” Jan studied the sky. “The fighting is far away.” “One plane is coming. I hear it,” Gale insisted. There came the sound of voices. “Who’s that?” Gale opened her eyes, then wiped the water from her face. “It’s our Chinese guard. They weren’t killed. That’s swell!” said Jan. Two youthful Chinese soldiers appeared round a ledge, dragging a heavy machine-gun after them. “Too bad,” said the taller of the pair. “Wanna shoot this plane. Can’t shoot airplane—too fast.” “Let me see that gun.” Gale staggered to her feet. “Made in America,” she murmured. “Good old America!” With skilled hands she set the gun up behind a pile of rocks. Then she examined each part with care. “Good gun,” she told Jan. “My father is an expert on machine-guns. He showed me all about them.” “Can you shoot them?” Jan asked. “Can I?” Gale laughed hoarsely. There was still some water in her throat. “Father had a range set up. We practiced together. I used to beat him.” “I bet you did,” Jan replied admiringly. “Listen!” Gale held up a hand. “That plane is coming back. Wants to see if he got us.” “Maybe he got one more—’nother bomb.” The tall Chinese soldier turned green as he spoke. “Perhaps they have,” Gale agreed. “You’d better go hide again.” “If you wantee me, I stayee.” The Chinese boy was game. “No. You go. I’ll shoot that plane.” Gale ran her eye over the barrel. “You shoot him?” The Chinaman stared. “Sure. Why not?” Gale adjusted the sight. “You scram!” In ten seconds the guards had lost themselves among the rocks. Gale and Jan were now lying flat on the rocks. “Jan,”—Gale’s voice was husky. “You crawl back down into that cellar. Crawl. Don’t walk. That way he can’t see you. Let him think we’re dead.” “Wha—what will you do?” Jan breathed. “I’ll lie right here and when the time comes I’ll bend my finger, that’s all,” was Gale’s slow reply. “I don’t like that Jap, not a bit. Think of coming back to gloat over what you’ve done to a couple of girls!” “He didn’t know we were girls,” said Jan. “Oh no? Well, perhaps he did. They know too much, those little brown men, or think they do. Well, here comes one that may not know a thing after today. “Now you slide out of here, and slide fast!” Gale commanded. And Jan slid. The Jap plane had been coming in low. That was so any American planes above wouldn’t see it. Perhaps the pilot had been ordered back to observe and report. Gale wouldn’t know about that,—not for sure. As the Chinese soldier had said, he might be bringing in one more bomb to finish the job. One thing was sure. He did have a machine-gun. That was dangerous. Gale’s suit was the color of the rocks. But her face? She tore a hole in her khaki handkerchief, then tied it on as a mask. The plane was coming up now. “Report to Tojo, will you?” she hissed. “Perhaps you’ll report to that other big man who was killed in an airplane months ago.” Her finger was crooked around the trigger, her gun aimed. She might have to change the aim a bit,—not much though. These little brown men had one-track minds. She had seen the course he took before. “He won’t change,” she told herself. Gale was right. He did not change, but she did. A sudden dizziness took possession of her. Was it the fumes she had been breathing, or the knock on her head when she fell? The reason did not matter. All that mattered now was that everything went dim before her eyes. Like Samson, she prayed,—“God, give me my sight.” As if by a miracle, her sight was restored. And now, here was the plane. It was close, very close. Three seconds now. “One, two, three,” she counted. Then her gun spoke in a long, rasping chatter. She didn’t want to look but she had to. Perhaps she had missed. Perhaps he did carry a bomb. She saw the look of pained surprise on the pilot’s face. His engine was half shot away. She changed her aim a little and fired another volley. After that she did not look. It wasn’t necessary. Half a minute later the sound of an explosion came up from below. “Yes,” she whispered, “He did have another bomb.” She stood up. She was trembling like a leaf. “Gale! You are a mess!” said a voice from behind her. “Your face is black and your hair is flying wild.” “Who cares?” Gale laughed hoarsely. “The soldiers have a song they sing. I don’t like it, but it fits just now: “What makes the wild WACS wild, Bill? What makes the wild WACS wild?” she sang. “They’re wild because they’re wild, Bill.” “They’re wild because they’re wild,” Jan chimed in, “They’re wild because they’re wild.” “Look!” Gale exclaimed suddenly. “Who’s boss here?” “You are, of course.” Jan’s chin dropped. “Then why didn’t you go down in that cellar as I commanded you to?” “Listen!” said Jan. “What did you do when your father was a sheriff and got into a fight?” “I climbed onto a chair, of course. He was my daddy.” “All right. You’re MY pal. You might have passed out again. Then I’d have had to drag you into the cellar.” “I nearly did,” Gale confessed. “Well, then, there you are!” Jan laughed softly. “Besides, I wanted to see you shoot that plane down,” Jan admitted. “I knew you’d do it. You’re just wonderful.” “Ah, Jan darling!” Gale threw an arm over the big girl’s shoulder. “You’re a real pal!” Had some artist seen them then, their clothes torn and disarranged, their faces black and hair flying, two WACS facing the sun on a ridge down which all their equipment and a Jap bomber had gone, he might have painted their picture and immortalized them forever. As it was, Gale heaved a deep sigh, then said in a matter-of-fact voice, “Jan, we’ve just got to rescue my radar set.” “It’s smashed to bits,” Jan sighed wearily. “It may not be. And if it is, the parts are all there.” Gale’s tone was insistent. “And think what it would mean if some dirty enemy spy got it! Come on! Let’s see if we can get down there.” So down they started. And as they went Gale told herself,—“I mustn’t forget to listen on the radio tonight at ten for Jimmie. He said he might talk from another world.” He did, almost, at that. |
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