“The WAC knows from the spot on the switchboard where the girl is. She reports the call. Another girl locates the spot on a chart. A third WAC reports to three men. One of these men represents the Army, one the Navy, and one the Civil Aeronautics Authority. These men consult their records. Perhaps they discover that no plane belonging to any of their organizations is supposed to be on that spot.” “And then they send out a fighting plane,” Norma suggested. “Not yet. Perhaps that girl watcher heard a vacuum sweeper instead of a plane, so they wait.” “And?” “Then, perhaps two minutes later, there comes a flash from another watcher—this time a fisherman’s wife. “Flash! One single. High. Going south. Very fast.” “‘Three hundred miles an hour,’ someone says. Then a fighter plane goes up. And soon, if it’s really an attack, the sky will be filled with fighter planes.” “Lives saved—many lives saved by the WACs,” Norma enthused. “We shall have done our part,” Lieutenant Warren replied modestly. “And that is all our country expects from any of us.” “Lieutenant,” Norma asked suddenly in a low tone, “did you notice anything unusual about the two girls who went into your booth just ahead of me?” “Why no—let me see,”—the lieutenant paused to consider. “One was rather short and chunky—of Italian stock. And the other—” “Tall, strong—and, well—rather silent.” “Yes. Now I recall her. No—nothing very unusual. Quite different in character, but capable, I’d say. They’ll fit in. Of course, they’re both of foreign extraction The tall girl’s parents were German-born. She’s an American, as we all are. She was raised by her uncle. Something unusual, did you say? Why did you ask that?” She fixed her dark eyes on Norma’s puzzled face. “Nothing, I guess. No real reason at all. I—I’m sorry I asked. I wouldn’t hurt anyone—not for all the world.” “Of course you wouldn’t, my dear.” The Lieutenant pressed her arm. Lieutenant Warren seemed fairly bursting in her enthusiasm for the Interceptor Control. She told Norma more, much more, as they marched along. Then suddenly, as if waking from a trance, she stopped dead in her tracks to exclaim softly: “Oh! What have I been telling you? I shouldn’t have breathed a word of that! It’s so hard not to talk about a thing that’s got a grip on your very soul. Promise me you won’t breathe a word of it!” “I promise,” Norma said quietly. “I’m sure I know how important it is.” “Do you know?” some sprite might have whispered. Soon enough the girl was to learn. “Come on in here,” the Lieutenant said a moment later. “I must pick up a suit I’ve had pressed.” The air in the large room they entered was heavy with steam. “On this side,” said the Lieutenant, pushing a door open a crack, “is the beauty parlor. Some young reporters have made fun of it. As if it were a crime for a soldier to look well!