“Drive your jeep close to the tent,” said the colonel. “Then come back here. Someone will take you to the mess tent for a cup of coffee before you turn in.
“We sleep daytimes and travel nights,” he added. “However, in this case we are at the end of our journey. But not for long—not for long,” he repeated softly. There was a meaning in these last few words that dug deep into Gale’s soul.
A few moments later they were all set for their cup of coffee. Mess kits and cups were passed out to them. They stood in line with the soldiers and received their portions of oatmeal, toast, bacon and coffee.
Seated at a plain board table, they found themselves opposite a group of doughboys who stared at them, but said never a word.
“They don’t like to see us here,” Gale thought to herself. “Or do they?”
The meal over, they returned to the tent. Buckets of hot water stood outside the tent door. With little cries of appreciation, they fairly dove into these to scrub the grime of the road from their faces and the blear from their eyes.
The sun was just sending long, searching beams of light down between the trees that appeared to reach to the sky when at last they tumbled into their bunks, buried their faces in pillows, and prepared to sleep.
Gale did not go to sleep at once. The movement of dim lights and darting shadows were in her eyes; the clash of changing gears rattled through her subconscious mind.
“I’m here,” she thought, “in the heart of a wilderness, on my way to war. Perhaps I have already arrived. This may be the fringe of an army camp. The whole army may arrive tomorrow night. At dawn there may be a battle.”
That her imagination was taking her for a ride she realized well enough, but as she lay there in the midst of that vast silent forest, sounds began to reach her ears, sounds both familiar and startling.