And then again she saw herself at the great airport, directing huge bombers and other planes to their places on the field. With Silent Storm as her guide, instructor, and friend, she had lived a happy life. The work she had been doing had been important, very important. One false move, one misdirected training bomber and a dozen fine young men from Colorado, Vermont, Illinois—might have gone crashing to earth.
“Silent Storm,” she whispered. “A grand friend. Barbara, a good, staunch pal. I am going back to them.” The speedy aircraft carrier seemed to fairly leap along, carrying her home to America.
“Shall I stay there always?” she asked herself.
To this question she found no certain answer. Probably she would not be the one to answer that question. This trip, made by a dozen WAVES, had been an experiment. Had it been successful? Would it be repeated? She could not tell.
She found herself hoping it might be, for the good of others as well as herself. The Captain had told her that on this trip his men had been happier, steadier, more contented than ever before.
“Ladies add a touch to every organization that can be had in no other way.” That was his way of putting it.
On shore in the harbor city many fine American boys were located. She had talked to some of them. One boy had said:
“You don’t know what it means to meet an honest-to-goodness American girl over here.”
“Why not?” she asked herself now, almost fiercely. “If the boys can die for their country, why not the girls as well? Thousands of good English women died in the terrible bombings, but the others never faltered.”
Yes, she was sure that she wanted to stay with the ship, to sail the sea, to do her bit, to fight and die if need be for her beloved land. But would they let her? Only time could tell.