CHAPTER VIII
ROSA ALMOST FLIES
On the Saturday that Norma and Rosa went to visit the airfield theydoffed their uniforms and put on their civies.
“All the same,” Norma said, “we’ll take along our identification cards,just in case—”
Airplanes, especially those flown by the Army Air Forces, had alwaysinterested Norma, so she was more than delighted when shortly aftertheir arrival at the field, a flight of small, sleek fighter planescame winging in out of the blue.
“Look, Rosa!” Norma exclaimed. “Aren’t they wonderful! Like a flock ofbeautiful white pigeons!”
There was no need to say “Look” to the little Italian WAC. As if in ahypnotic trance, she stood with eyes glued on the flight of planes.
“See how they circle!” Norma herself was entranced. “This is like war.This is how they will come sweeping in after escorting a bombersquadron in Africa, or China, or who knows where. That’s the waythey’ll look when we watch them beyond the seas.”
“Yes, this is war,” was all that Rosa said, as one by one the fightingplanes taxied across the field into position.
Like a troop of boys the fliers came walking across the field.
“Bill is in flight training right now,” Norma said, all excited. “Ifonly he were in that group!”
“Who’s Bill?” Rosa’s eyes left the planes for an instant.
“Oh, he’s just Bill.” Norma laughed. “But he’s not here.”
Always interested in any person in uniform, Norma moved closer to thejoking, laughing group.
“How young they seem!” she said, half aloud. It shocked her to thinkthat some day, perhaps not too far away, from the blue sky, shot out ofhis plane, Bill would come hurtling down, tumbling over and over like astick thrown into the air crashing at last to earth.
“This is war,” she thought, with a shudder. “We WACs must do all in ourpower to make it end. And we will! Now we are a hundred and fiftythousand. Next it will be three hundred thousand—half a million—amillion WACs marching away to win the war.”
Looking up, she allowed her eyes to sweep the field. It was aninspiring picture—the men, the planes, the flag floating in the breeze.
“Oh!” she whispered. “Oh! How I wish Dad were young again!”
And then, with a sudden start, she realized that Rosa was gone from herside.
“She’s vanished!” she thought, with a sudden sense of panic, as hereyes sought the girl in vain.
Just then, as if moving of its own will, one of the fighter planesbegan gliding toward the center of the field.
At once the quiet scene became one of action. A young pilot close tothe plane made a running jump to grab the tail of the plane. He hadjust reached it when, in the midst of shouting and sound of rushingfeet, the plane’s motor went silent, and the plane itself came to asudden stop.
Norma was thunderstruck when, from the pilot’s seat of that plane, noneother than her companion, Rosa, the little Italian WAC, was dragged out.
“Rosa! Rosa! You little dunce! Why did you do it?” she screamed as sheraced forward.
By the time she reached the side of the plane Rosa was on the ground. Astalwart member of the Military Police had her by the arm, and wassaying:
“Come along, sister. What’s wrong with you? Drunk? Or just plainnuts—or nothin’ at all?”
“It’s the guardhouse for her,” a second M. P. predicted loudly.
Realizing that for the moment nothing could be accomplished, Normajoined three grinning young pilots as they followed the M. P.’s andRosa across the field.
“What’s the matter with that girl?” one of the pilots asked in afriendly tone.
“I don’t know,” was all Norma could say.
“She was with you, wasn’t she?” a second pilot asked.
Norma made no reply.
“She really had that plane going,” said the first pilot. “One minutemore, and she’d have been right up in the sky.”
“And there’s secrets in those planes that nobody but us are supposed toknow,” put in number three. “By George! Maybe she’s a spy!”
“Hush,” said Norma. “She’s no more a spy than you are. She’s a WAC.”
“A WAC!” the first pilot exclaimed. “Well I’ll be jiggered! And Isuppose you’re one too?”
“Sure I am,” Norma agreed.
“Well, all I got to say is you’d look swell in any uniform,” was thefinal rejoinder.
Just then the flight commander, a very youthful-appearing major who hadcome across the field in long strides, caught up with the procession.
“Caught this girl trying to steal one of your planes,” said an M. P.
“Yes,” said the other. “We’re taking her to the guardhouse. C’mon,sister.” He gave the weeping Rosa a gentle push.
“Wait a minute. Not so fast. Those are our planes. I’m flightcommander. Let the girl go. She won’t run away, will you, young lady?”
Rosa tried to speak, but no words came.
“Here’s a young lady who was with her,” said a pilot, moving Normagently forward. “She says they’re both WACs.”
“WACs?” said the officer. “Hmm! Where are your uniforms?”
“We’re on leave.” Norma swallowed hard, then threw her shoulders back.“Saturday afternoon and Sunday we can wear what we please. And—andMajor,” she stammered, “I don’t know why Rosa did it. I—I think theplane charmed her.”
“Charmed her! Hmm! Now let’s see.”
“She’s one of the best little WACs in our squadron,” said Norma, halfin despair.
“And are you the squadron’s leader?”
“No, but I drill the entire company. And that’s not all!” Normaexclaimed, gathering courage from the major’s smiling eyes. “I’m thedaughter of Major John M. Kent, who fought in the World War—”
“John M. Kent!” The major studied her face. “You do look like him.You’ve got his eyes.”
“Then you know him?” Norma exclaimed.
“Quite well. He’s a splendid man.”
“His eyes are not all I have,” said Norma. “I have his picture.” Shefumbled in her billfold.
“Here—here it is.”
The officer studied the photograph, and, across the bottom of it, heread:
“To my beloved daughter Norma.”
“Norma,” he smiled. “That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl. So you’rea WAC? A chip off the old block. Shake.” He held out his hand. Sheseized it in a good, friendly grip.
“And here’s a picture of our squadron,” Norma said half a minute later.“There’s Rosa, right there, uniform and all. You know we wouldn’t doanything wrong. I guess Rosa just lost her head.”
“Yes, lost my head,” Rosa sobbed.
“All right, boys,” said the major. “You may let the young lady go. Youcan’t put a WAC in the guardhouse. It just isn’t being done, especiallynot here.”
To Norma he said: “If I’m here long enough I’m coming to visit yourcamp. Yours is a grand outfit. We’re going to need you all before thisscrap is over.”
“Oh! Please do come!” Norma exclaimed. “I—I’ll get you the keys to BoomTown and to every other place in old Fort Des Moines!”
“Well, I’m jiggered!” exclaimed one of the pilots, as Norma and thestill silently weeping Rosa hurried off the field.
Once she was safe on the streetcar and headed for the city, Rosa ceasedher weeping, but every now and again Norma heard her whisper:
“Why did I do it? Oh why?”
What was back of all this? Hidden away in the little Italian girl’smind were secrets. Norma would never be able to doubt that from thisday on.
“I’d like to go exploring in that mind of yours,” she thought. Thatthis type of exploring often leads to disaster she knew all too well.So, for the time being, she did not explore.
Arrived at the city, Norma at once sought out a restaurant with alittle
nook in the wall where lights were subdued and where deliciousfoods were served.
By the time they had gone all the way from soup to ice cream and weresipping good strong black tea, the little Italian girl’s eyes wereshining once again.
“Was that after all so terrible?” she asked.
“Of course it was,” Norma replied instantly. The question surprised andshocked her.
“I did no harm to the plane.”
“You might have killed someone, wrecked the plane, or even flown awayin it.”
“Oh, no, I—” For a space of seconds it seemed that Rosa was on theverge of revealing some important secret. “But—but I didn’t do any ofthose terrible things,” she ended lamely.
“The secret must wait,” Norma told herself. To Rosa she said: “Therewere secrets in that plane.”
“I didn’t want their secrets,” Rosa’s cheeks flushed.
“How could they know that?” Norma was a little provoked.
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_“You Might Have Wrecked the Plane,” Norma Replied_]
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“I’m a WAC. When they knew that they saw it was all right.”
“It was I who got you off.” Norma’s voice rose. “They thought you werea spy.”
“I, a spy?” Rosa stared. “Yes, that is what they said, but they werejoking.”
“They were not joking.” Norma was in dead earnest.
“But I’m a WAC! How can a WAC be a spy? My record, it was checked. Myfingerprints—”
“Yes, I know all that. But even in a WAC uniform you might be a spy. Myfather told me once that during the World War many spies in France woreY. M. C. A. uniforms. They were very hard to catch. Believe me, theMata Haris of this war will be wearing WAC uniforms, too. We have to becareful, very, very careful.” Norma settled back in her place to studythe Italian girl’s face. It was indeed an interesting moving picture oflights and shadows. But from it Norma learned little.
Twice Rosa seemed on the point of replying, but in the end no wordswere spoken.
By this time their group, though still together, had moved to newer andmore comfortable quarters in Boom Town. That night Norma lay staring atthe darkness for a long time before she fell asleep.
She was thinking of Rosa and Lena. Rosa’s actions on that day hadstarted her thinking things all over again and her thoughts were long,long thoughts.
Once again she caught the gleam of light from Rosa’s cot and saw Lenasit up in her place at night as she whispered three mysterious words.
The picture of Lena and the Spanish hairdresser standing in themoonlight again fascinated her, and once more she felt that terrifyinggrip on her arm as a man’s voice said, “Oh! You are one of them!”
A chapter or two had been added to Lena’s story. Betty was responsiblefor this. One night she had come in rather late, but had remained uplong enough to whisper to Norma:
“Who do you think I saw tonight down by the big gate? Lena and theSpanish hairdresser!”
“Is that so strange?” Norma had tried to seem indifferent.
“But there was a man with them.” Betty’s whisper rose. “He had a smallmustache that turned up, and sort of staring eyes.”
“Did he?” Norma’s voice betrayed her excitement.
“Yes; and he said to Lena, ‘You must!’ Only his ‘you’ sounded like‘Du’.”
“And Lena has her hair done every other day by the Spanish hairdresser.That costs money. Do you think she always pays?”
So Betty too had a spy complex! Well, let her have it. She wasn’t goingto be drawn into it. For all that, some things did seem very strange.
At that Norma turned over and fell asleep.
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