“I’m not leaving,” the girl said, as she shook her hair into a tangled mass. “This may be a man’s war, but they’ll have to put me in the guard house to keep me out of it.”
“Oh! Miss! I’m sorry,” the sergeant exclaimed, “but orders are orders. No ladies.”
“Who’s giving the orders?” she snapped. “You’re a sergeant. I’m a second officer of the WACS. You tell me who’s ranking officer on this gun! I’m staying! And we’re going to get one of those bombers!”
“Get what? Get—” A strange light shone in the sergeant’s eyes like the glint of a diamond. “Last time they got a whole gun crew and one was my particular pal,” he grumbled. He whistled a bar of “Lady Be Good”, then said: “Have it your own way. Let’s get set.”
By this time the enemy planes could be heard rumbling through the overcast.
“They’re heading for the airdrome. We’re practically on the edge of it,” the sergeant explained. “They may take time to wipe us off the map first,” he added as a comforting afterthought.
If the girl heard, she made no sign.
“They’ll circle over the place first, won’t they?” she asked in a matter-of-fact voice.
“That’s what they most generally do,” the sergeant agreed.
“That’s when we’ll get them,” she murmured, as she adjusted her radar set. “They’ve got one-track minds, those Jap pilots have. They circle about in the same track two or three times.”