For many days after that, out on the battle front, life for the American forces was an almost monotonous succession of victories. Taken by surprise, the small force of Japs defending their foothold in Burma were pushed back, back, back by the colonel’s onrushing army. They reached the Chinese border and rolled right on. Great forces of Chinese fighters, hungry, ragged, ill armed but eager, joined in the battle. Great convoys of trucks laden with food, clothing, rifles, Tommy-guns and ammunition for these fighters rolled in a never-ending stream over the colonel’s road.
The colonel set up temporary headquarters in an abandoned ranch house, a bomb-shattered store, the home of a rich Chinese merchant, and at last in a small but beautiful temple.
Always the team of Gale and Mac were on hand to watch the skies for enemy bombers. Since the days were bright they did their work only at night. Twice Gale spotted oncoming marauders, twice Mac, and night-fighting U. S. planes blasted them from the skies.
Jan stuck to her jeep. She was always at the colonel’s service. At times she drove the colonel about, at others she did some rough riding with tough buck privates, and enjoyed it. “Golly!” she would exclaim as she came in covered with sweat, dust and grease, “this is the life! It really is!”
Yes, for Gale and Jan life took on a definite pattern. Then, as often happens in war, that pattern was suddenly torn into small bits.
It started when one day the colonel called Gale to his headquarters to say:
“You’ve been on night work for some time now. You need a change.”
“Oh, no! I—”
“I’m sure you’ll like the change I am offering you.” A strange smile played about his lips. “I have a friend who has just arrived at the airfield. I think perhaps he has some sort of proposition to make you. You have my permission to accept. His name—” A smile spread over his face, “is Jimmie.”
“Jimmie?” She sprang to her feet. “Is he—”