A few moments later a wavering light was reported off Preston Beach. The watcher said it was six miles off shore. It was really only one mile and was a lantern atop the mast of a fishing schooner.
And that was the total bag of missing, misled, and enemy planes.
“Not so exciting,” was Marie’s sleepy comment as they went off duty.
“No,” Norma agreed, “but standing guard at the edge of no man’s land when nothing happens for months on end over there on the other side isn’t exciting either. But let the patrol relax—”
“And then comes trouble.” Rosa finished.
“Yes, and if we relax it will come here,” said Norma. “Look at last night!”
“Okay,” Marie agreed good-naturedly. “When it comes you’ll find me right here with you, and I’ll hope to do my bit.”
“I know you will,” said Norma with a friendly grip on the arm.
That first night might have served for the whole week’s pattern, and for another half week after that. A plane lost and found, three planes off their course, a fast speed boat taken for a plane, these were the simple little stories recorded in Norma’s book. But, for all that, they were learning their tasks, going through their work with greater skill every day, preparing themselves for any world-rocking and nerve-wracking events that lay ahead.
That is not to say that in this week and a half nothing exciting happened. Many things did happen, but these came during off-duty hours.