“You won’t be working here,” the Major in command explained. “We just want you to see it. I’m Major Henry Stark. Sort of in charge here, you might say.”
He was a big man, not at all pompous, nor soft, either. His was a friendly smile.
“Want you to take the thing quite seriously from the start,” he said. “Look at that map. We’re way up here. Not close to any cities. Rather unimportant post, you might say.
“But look at this globe.” He whirled a large globe around, then put his finger on a spot. “That’s Norway. Here’s Greenland. Planes coming from Norway to bomb Boston, New York, or Pittsburg would pass right over this post.”
“We’d be the first to spot them,” said Betty.
“That’s the truth, Miss. And no mistake. So—” he let out a big breath—“we are important. Mighty important.” He let that sink in.
“Lieutenant Warren tells me you’re all serious-minded gals. Gals.”—he laughed—“That’s what she called you. That’s fine. I take it she spoke the truth, and if so, we can use you.”
“I—I hope so,” Norma spoke for the group.
“We can, all right! Just wait and see!” he exclaimed.
There was little of adventure or romance in the days that followed for, as in Fort Des Moines, they were hard at work learning the tasks that lay ahead. Up at five forty-five each morning, they were glad enough to creep into their fine, warm beds at nine-thirty each night.