“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!
“Those girls working in there,” she said as she closed the door, “are civilians. They come over from the city every day. Sometimes they worry me.”
“Worry you?” Norma was puzzled.
“Yes. You see, they’re not checked.”
“Checked?” Norma stared.
“Their records, you know. After all, this is an Army camp and, as such, is just packed with secrets. We send out a thousand freshly trained WACs a week. One of these days we’ll be sending a trainload all at once. Where are they going? Are they being sent overseas? Will they be secretaries to commanding officers? What other important tasks will they perform? Our enemy would like to know all this and much more. And these hairdressers just come and go. Who are they? No one knows.”
“But have we been checked?”
“Have you been checked?” the Lieutenant whispered. “Oh, my dear! The F.B.I. knows all about you. Your fingerprints are in Washington. Your life from the time you were born has been checked and double-checked.”
“So none of us could possibly turn out to be spies?” Norma breathed a sigh of relief.