In the hours that followed every nerve was tense. They had won another battle but not without loss. The terrors of war at sea had come to stand out before every WAVE on board in sharper reality than ever before.
It was so with Sally and Nancy. They had volunteered for sea duty and, as long as their services in this capacity were required, there would be no turning back. The spirit of youth that had flowed in their veins as they boarded the ship only a few days before was being exchanged for sterner stuff.
Uppermost in the minds of all was the question of enemy subs. Twice they had been defeated, but the convoy they had hoped to destroy was priceless. Would they strike again?
Throughout one long, sleepless night both Sally and Nancy hovered over their secret radio. The “put-put-put” of strange enemy broadcasts was coming in constantly. There were still plenty of subs about. At first they appeared to be scattered far apart. But in time they seemed to be assembling for attack.
Every hour Sally reported to the Captain. In spite of the fact that it was impossible to tell the exact position of this sub pack, at three in the morning huge four-motored bombers, hovering overhead, were radioed a message and they went zooming away in the bright moonlight.
An hour later a message came in that they had surprised two large subs on the surface, probably engaged in charging batteries, and had sunk them both.
Just before dawn Sally, tired but happy, reported to the Captain:
“The loss of those two subs seems to have broken the pack up.”
“What’s happening now?” he asked.
“They’re spreading out. Their messages are fading.”