Nancy picked up the tag from the bony chest and read, “Vernon Goodwin.”
“Yep. I noticed that when I looked for his blood type,” said Mabel.
“Nearest relative, V. P. Goodwin, Graceville, S. C. Not only an American, but a southerner!” exclaimed Nancy. “Protestant religion. Vernon Goodwin—Vernon Goodwin,” she repeated softly.
To her surprise the sick man’s eyelids fluttered, and Nancy thought the light of consciousness welled up as he looked at her a moment. The lips tried to move, but no words came.
“There’s something familiar in that name, Mabel.”
“Common enough name back home—Goodwin.”
“Could he be one of Tommy’s bomber crew?”
Again the eyelids fluttered, and again the lips tried to move.
“Mabel, I’ve got to know!” exclaimed Nancy. “I’m going to run up to our tent to get that list Bruce wrote for me.”
Nancy was back in five minutes, but Mabel had moved to the next man. Her face was shining with an inner light when she went up to her friend and said, “It is one of them, Mabel. Vernon Goodwin, Tommy’s gunner.”