“Shish!” the girl’s friend whispered. “You’re almost shouting!”
“All the same they had a grand time! Danced with soldiers on deck, and all that. Right over there in Africa now. Girls! Tell me how I can get to go!”
Then all at once the khaki-clad throng was silent. The ranking officers were mounting the platform. In a silent salute, the girls all rose. When the Lieutenant Colonel in charge of the post, the commanding officer and two officers Norma did not at once recognize were seated, they all sat down.
The Lieutenant Colonel rose. “Fellow soldiers of America,” she began. Norma was thrilled. “You have assembled here in order that we may give you a final greeting and farewell. During your four weeks of training you have conducted yourselves like soldiers. You will shortly be going to your various posts of duty. Your country looks to you for service, faithfulness to your task, and loyalty. We know you will not fail.”
“No—no—no. We will not fail!” came in an inaudible whisper. Had one woman, or a hundred, said it? No one knew. It was enough that an electric thrill passed over the room.
“On such an occasion as this,” the Colonel went on, “it has been customary for the commanding officer or myself to give you a brief talk in an effort to acquaint you with that which lies ahead. This afternoon we have delegated that task to one who, not so many months ago, went through her baptism of fire in Flanders Field.
“Lieutenant Warren,”—she turned about—“will you be so kind as to tell these young women what it really means to be a WAC?”
As Lieutenant Warren rose, the Colonel said:
“Some of you know Lieutenant Warren. To those of you who do not know her, may I say that during the fall of Holland, Belgium, and France Miss Warren drove an Ann Morgan Ambulance, evacuating old men, women, and children from those unfortunate lands, and that the medal pinned upon her breast is a Croix de Guerre presented to her by a grateful nation.”
There was a rustle in the audience. Someone sprang to her feet. Instantly they were all on their feet in silent tribute to a member of their own ranks who had seen service on the bloody fields of France.