“Exactly that,” he insisted. “Radar is much better than harps for fighting wars. Harps for angels of peace, radar for guardian angels of war.” He laughed in a strange sort of way.
“Look!” He pointed down to the forest that lay beneath them. “Soon beneath those trees tens of thousands of soldiers will be sleeping, waiting for the big push. Good American boys, they are, the kind that came from your own home town.”
“Yes, Yes—I know,” Gale murmured hoarsely.
“Long years ago,” the colonel went on, “wars were fought by professional soldiers, men from every land, hired to fight. Even in our Civil War, if you had money and didn’t want to go when you were called, you could pay someone to take your place.”
“But in this war it’s different,” Gale agreed. “It’s the boy who used to work in the Post Office, and the one who sat across from you in school, all kinds of boys who were your playmates and pals who have gone.”
“Golly, yes!” Jan put in. “And then they think it’s funny that some of us girls want to drive a truck in the war, or something.”
“They’ll change their ideas about that,” the colonel replied soberly. “They ARE changing them now. You girls can help. That’s part of the reason why I brought you.
“What I was starting to say,” he went on, “was that you’re up here like an all-seeing eye, Gale. Below you in that great forest will be thousands on thousands of splendid boys, ready, if need be, to give their lives for their country when the big push comes. And here you are, with radar eyes that can see in daylight or dark, clouds or sunshine, three hundred miles or more. When enemy planes come this way looking for those boys, you’ll know.”
“Yes,” Gale replied solemnly. “I’ll know.”
“Your equipment is the best,” the colonel went on. “We ran a line up here so you won’t lack power. You have a phone and a radio for sounding a warning.