CHAPTER II
THE TEST THAT TOLD
“Mrs. Hobby’s Horses.” Betty laughed. “That’s really no great secret.Perhaps you didn’t notice it, but we’ve been sleeping in a stable.”
“A stable!” Norma stared. “A stable with polished floors?”
“Oh, they fixed them up, of course. But the row of buildings to whichthis belongs was all stables only a short while ago.”
“For horses?”
“Why not?” Betty laughed again. “Fort Des Moines has always been acavalry post.”
“Oh! And I suppose it was from these very stables that cavalry horsemenrode thundering away to fight the Indians.”
“Absolutely!”
“How romantic!” Norma exclaimed. “But I still don’t see what that’s gotto do with hobby horses.”
“I didn’t say hobby horses. I said they called us Mrs. Hobby’s horses.Don’t you see?” Betty’s voice dropped. “Mrs. Hobby is director of theCorps. And they say she’s a wonder. All of us raw recruits must spend aweek in these stables before we go to live in Boom Town. So you see,they call us Mrs. Hobby’s horses.”
“But Boom Town? Where’s that?” Norma demanded.
“Oh! Come on!” Betty exclaimed. “You want to know too much too soon.Let’s get our bunks made. We have a lot of things to do this day. Oneof them is to eat breakfast. That cold air made me hungry. Let’s getgoing.”
A short time later they found themselves caught in a brown stream ofWACs pouring toward a long, low building. Once inside they were greetedwith the glorious odor of frying bacon, brewing coffee, and all thatgoes with a big delicious breakfast.
And was it big! In this mess hall twenty-five hundred girls were beingserved.
As she joined the long line that moved rapidly forward Norma was allbut overcome by the feeling that she was part of something mammoth andwonderful.
“It’s big!” she exclaimed.
“Biggest thing in all the world.” Betty pressed her arm. “We’re in theArmy now!”
Yes, they were in the Army. And this was Army food. On their sectionaltrays, oatmeal, toast and bacon were piled.
Their cups were a marvel to behold. Half an inch thick, big as a pintjar, and entirely void of handles, they presented a real problem. ButNorma mastered the art of an Army coffee drinker in one stride. So toodid Millie, the girl from a department store.
“Boy!” Millie giggled, balancing her cup in one hand. “Now let the Japscome! I’ll get one of them and never even nick this cup! Honest,” sheconfided, “I think this is going to be fun.”
“Fun, and lots of work,” was Norma’s reply.
“Oh! Work!” Millie sobered. “Lead me to it! It can’t be worse thanShield’s Bargain Basement during the Christmas rush. It’s ‘Can you findme this?’ or ‘Can you give me that?’ and ‘Miss Martin, do this,’ and‘Miss Martin, do that,’ hours and hours on end. Bad air, crosscustomers, bossy floorwalkers. And for what? I ask you? Sixteen dollarsa week!”
“Could you live on that?” Norma asked in surprise.
“No, but I did,” Millie giggled. “But honest, I think this will be alot better.”
“It’s not so much a matter of it being better or worse,” Norma repliedsoberly, “as it is of what we have to give. This is war, you know. Ourwar!”
“Yes, I know.” The little salesgirl, it seems, had a serious side toher nature. “I’ve thought about that, too. In the city where theyexamined us they said I might do library work. I sold books, you know,and I know an awful lot about them. And I can cook, too,” she addedhopefully.
“They have a cooking and baking school,” Betty encouraged. “They teachyou how to cook in a mess hall and out of doors for a few people and agreat many. Perhaps for a thousand people at a time. And you do it allin the baggage car of a special train.”
“Ee-magine little me cooking for a thousand people!” Millie wilted likean unwatered flower. “Honest, girls, I’m just scared stiff! I couldn’tgo back! I just couldn’t! I’d rather die! And today they give us ourspecial interviews and everything.”
“You’ll make it all right,” Betty assured her. “Just drink the rest ofyour coffee. That will pep you up.”
Once again Millie lifted her huge army cup. “Here’s to us all,” shelaughed.
At that they clinked their cups and drank to their day that had justbegun.
Mid-afternoon found Norma sitting at the end of a row of girls, waitingher turn at a private interview. In twenty-five open booths twenty-fiveinterviewers sat smilingly asking questions in low tones of twenty-fivenew recruits, and carefully writing down the answers. In her row as shesat waiting her turn Norma saw Lena, the tall, strong girl whowhispered strangely in the night, Rosa, who had flashed a light, Betty,Millie, and a few others.
As she waited—just waited—she began to be a little afraid. Theinterviewers were smiling, but after all, those were serious smiles.She could not hear the questions. She could guess them. Theseinterviewers were asking, “What can you do? What would you like most todo? What else can you do?”
All of a sudden Norma realized that she had never done a real day’swork in all her life. She had always gone to school. Oh, yes! She couldcook, just a little. But so little!
“I guess,” she thought, “that I’m what they call a typical Americancollege girl, not a bad student, and not too good, fairly good attennis and basketball. I’ve got brown hair and eyes, and I’m not tootall nor yet too short.” She laughed in spite of herself. “A goodfellow, and all that. But,” she sobered, “what can I do? What do I wantto do? What else can I do?”
She had felt a little sorry for the shopgirl, Millie. Now she enviedher. Millie knew all about books and she could really cook. At thisvery moment, smiling with fresh-born confidence, Millie was steppinginto a booth for her trial-by-words. And she, Norma Kent, a collegegraduate, sat there shivering in her boots! Surely this was a strangeworld.
The booth that Millie had entered was wide open. Norma could see allbut hear nothing of what went on. At first she was interested inwatching the smiles and frowns that played across Millie’s frank andmobile face. Of a sudden her interest was caught and held by theexaminer. Tall, slim, looking very much the soldier in her neatlypressed uniform that bore a lieutenant’s bar on its shoulder, thisexaminer seemed just what Norma hoped in time to become—a real soldier.
“She’s not too young—perhaps thirty,” the girl told herself. “And she’swearing some sort of medal pinned to her breast. Say! That’s strange!”
And indeed it was strange. The Woman’s Army Corps was as yet veryyoung. Only a few had gone overseas and none, as far as she knew, hadeither won honors or returned to America.
“She’s keen,” she whispered to the girl next to her.
“Who?” The girl stared.
“That examiner,” Nonna nodded toward the booth.
“Oh! Oh sure!” The other girl resumed polishing her nails.
“All the same she is,” Norma told herself. “And I’d like to know her.”
As Millie, the shopgirl, at last rose from her place, a happy smileplayed about her lips.
“She made it,” Norma said aloud. “And am I glad!” She smiled at Millieas she passed.
Lena, the “night whisperer” was next to enter the vacated booth. As theinterviewer began her task her body appeared to stiffen.
“On her guard,” Norma thought. “I wonder why.”
On the officer’s face there was still a smile, but somehow it was adifferent sort of smile.
And the tall girl? She too seemed rather strange. She appeared alwayson her guard. “As if she were speaking a piece and feared she mightforget,” was Norma’s thought.
Still, in the end all must have gone well for, as she passed her on theway out, the tall girl flashed Norma a look that said plainer thanwords. “See? That’s how you do it.”
Whatever may have been Norma’s reactions to this they were quick
lylost, for suddenly she realized that the black eyes of the examiningofficer were upon her and that her name was being called. Her time hadcome. Swallowing hard, she rose to step into the booth.
“You are Norma Kent,” said the examiner, flashing her a friendly smile.“And your home is—”
“Greenvale, Illinois,” was the prompt reply. The date of her birth,when she entered and left grade school, high school, and college, andother details followed.
“And now,” said the examiner, leaning forward, “what can you do?”
“I—I really don’t know,” the girl faltered. “I’ve never worked atanything.”
“Ah! So you’ve never worked? Can you cook?”
“Not very well.”
“I see.” The examiner studied Norma’s face.
“How many in your family?”
“Just father and I.”
“And your father? What does he do?”
“He’s with the Telephone Company, in charge of a wideterritory—equipment and all that.”
“Hmm.” The examiner studied her report. “Just two of you. You should begreat pals.”
“Oh—we are!” Norma’s eyes shone. “You see,” she exclaimed, “Dad was inthe other World War. I’ve always loved him for that. He was in France.”
“France,” said the examiner, with a quick intake of breath. Norma didnot at all understand. “What a lovely land to die for.”
“Dad lost his right arm,” Norma stated in a matter-of-fact tone.“That’s why he can’t go back this time, and—and that’s why he wants meto go.”
“Would you like to go overseas?” The examiner’s eyes shone with astrange new light.
“I’d love to!” the girl whispered hoarsely. “But what could I do?”
“Oh! Loads of things.” The examiner made a record on her sheet. “Yourfather must have driven about a great deal looking things over in hispresent occupation.”
“Of course.”
“Did you ever go with him?”
“Oh! Many, many times!”
“Did you ever assist him?”
“Oh, yes! Of course! It was all great fun. He had big charts showingevery center, every phone. I helped him mark down each newinstallation.”
“Ah!” the examiner breathed.
“Yes, and we had a grand little shop in the basement where we workedthings out—lots of new things.” Norma’s eyes shone. “There were manyrural centers where the switchboards were in stores. When a number wascalled a light shone on the board. But that wasn’t enough. Thestorekeeper couldn’t always see the light.”
“And what did you do about it?”
“We fixed up a new board, just Dad and I. Put a tiny bell on everyline.”
“I see. The light flashed, the bell rang, and then the storekeeperreally knew all about it?”
“Yes. But the light sometimes failed, so we put on bells with differenttones. Each line spoke for itself.” Norma laughed. “We called it themusical switchboard.”
“And you say you’ve never worked?” The examiner laughed.
“That! Why, that was just fun!”
“Perhaps it was. The best work in the world is the kind we can think ofas fun. All that time you were fitting yourself for two of our mostimportant departments—Communication and Interceptor Control.”
“Can—can you really use me?” Norma was close to tears.
“Can we? Oh! My child!” The examiner all but embraced her. “We’ll makea major out of you! See if we don’t!”
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