“Yep. That’s a fact. But now I’m just a member of the Ferry Command. I ferry all sorts of planes and all kinds of things over the mountains into China.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Over Burma?”
“Naturally.”
“Tell—tell me what it’s like,” came in an awed whisper. “I—perhaps I’m going there.”
“It’s like nothing you ever saw before,” was Jimmie’s reply. “Mountains all piled up in a heap. Rushing streams, giant teakwood forests, head-hunters, villages and temples—all that. And then,”—he caught his breath, “Palm trees, pineapple fields, rice paddies, and again sandy deserts,—such deserts as you never dreamed of. Sands and dust that shakes you and no water to drink. No roads worth mentioning, and silly little brown men setting all sorts of traps to catch you. That’s Burma at its worst and its best.”
“How about the tea, Mac?” Jimmie’s voice dropped. “My throat is dry.”
“Water’s just ready to boil,” said Mac. “Wait. I’ve got some ginger cookies and chocolate bars hidden away here if the rats haven’t taken them.”
“Regular feed! That’s the stuff!” Jimmie enthused.
As for Gale, she dug a comb out from beneath her khaki unionalls and started putting her wind-blown hair to rights. “My name’s Gale Janes,” she volunteered.
“Nice name, but it doesn’t fit. How about Hellcat?” Jimmie asked.