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Norma Kent of the WACS Page 3


  CHAPTER III

  INTERCEPTOR CONTROL

  Norma was not long in discovering the reason for that last surprisingoutburst of her examiner. When at last the report was finished, theylooked up to find the row of chairs empty.

  “Well!” the examiner breathed. “That’s all for today. This,” she added,“is not my regular work. My training was finished many weeks ago. Ihave been away from the Fort for some time doing a—well” shehesitated—“a rather special sort of work. Now I’m back for a briefspell. They were shorthanded here.”

  “So you’ve been helping out?”

  “That’s it.” The examiner rose. Norma too stood. “We all have one greatpurpose. Each of us must do what she can wherever she is.”

  “To bring this terrible war to an end,” Norma added.

  “You’re right again,” the other smiled.

  “Whew!” she exclaimed after looking Norma over from head to toe. “Youcertainly do look fit.”

  “I should,” Norma grinned. “Our college has put us through _some_training, I can tell you. We marched five miles bare-legged in shorts,with the snow blowing across the field!”

  “Climbed fences. I’ll bet.” The examiner smiled.

  “Yes, and walls too. We did gym work and took corrective exercises.”

  “Grand! They were preparing you for—”

  “Just anything.”

  “That’s swell. My name is Warren.” The officer put out a hand.“Lieutenant Rita Warren, to be exact. I’m going up to Boom Town. Wantto go along?”

  “I’d love to!”

  “Right! Then come. Let’s go.” Swinging into the regulation thirty-inchstride, Lieutenant Warren marched out of the hall with her recruit andalong the snow-lined path.

  “That Interceptor Control sounds intriguing,” Norma said as theymarched over the crusted snow.

  “Oh, it is! It really is!” Lieutenant Warren’s face glowed. “The mostinteresting work in the world. I’ll tell you a little about it. Butdon’t let me tell you too much.”

  “I’ll flash the red light.” Norma laughed, as she asked, “How much istoo much?”

  Lieutenant Warren did not answer, instead, she said, “We are stationedalong the seacoast.”

  “Just any seacoast?”

  “Any coast of America. There are a number of us in each group. We takeover some small hotel. The hotel is run just for us.”

  “Must be grand!”

  “Oh, it is! But we don’t have much time to think of that. We have workto do. Plenty of it. You see, along every coast there are thousands andthousands of volunteer watchers. They are there day and night.”

  “Watching for enemy planes?”

  “Yes, that’s it, and for possible enemy landings.”

  “But none have come?”

  “Not yet. But let us relax our vigil—then see what happens! If anaircraft carrier stole in close in the fog and sent over fifty bombingplanes, hundreds—perhaps thousands would die. That must never happen.”

  “No! Never!” Norma’s hand clenched hard.

  “That’s the why of the Interceptor Control.”

  “Do the WACs help with the watching?”

  “In a way, yes. But not out on the sandbanks and rocky shores.”

  “That’s done by volunteers?”

  “Yes. The WAC works inside. There’s plenty to be done if an enemy planeis sighted. Just plenty.

  “This,” she said, changing the subject, “is Boom Town. Six months agoit was open country.”

  Norma looked up, then stared. So interested had she become in theirtalk that she had failed to note that they were now passing before along row of new red brick buildings.

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  _“This,” She Said, Changing the Subject, “Is BoomTown.”_]

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  “The two-story ones are barracks,” her companion explained. “Some ofthe one-story buildings are Company Headquarters, some are mess halls,and some day rooms.”

  “Day rooms?” Norma was puzzled.

  “Day rooms that you mostly visit at night,” Lieutenant Warren laughed.“Lights in the barracks are out at nine-thirty. Most of the girlsprefer to retire then. When you’ve been here three days you’ll know why.

  “Some hardy souls wish to stay up another hour, so they retire to theday room to lounge in easy chairs, write letters, read, or play cards.Bed check is at ten-forty-five. You’d better be in bed by then oryou’ll get a black mark.”

  “Every night?” Norma asked in surprise.

  “From Saturday noon to Sunday night is all your own. You’ll learn aboutthat later.”

  For a moment they walked on in silence. It was Norma who broke thatsilence.

  “Can you tell me a little of what the WACs of the Interceptor Controldo?”

  “A little is right,” was the quick reply. “Much of it is a deep, deepsecret. You’d love it all, I know.

  “But listen. This is how it works,” she went on. “Some high school girlis watching from a cliff. There are many girl watchers, and howfaithful they are!”

  “This girl hears a plane in the dark. It’s off shore. She rushes to aphone and calls a number. A WAC at the switchboard replies.”

  “And then?” Norma whispered.

  “Then the girl on the cliff says: ‘One single. High. Off five miles.Going south.’

  “The WAC knows from the spot on the switchboard where the girl is. Shereports the call. Another girl locates the spot on a chart. A third WACreports to three men. One of these men represents the Army, one theNavy, and one the Civil Aeronautics Authority. These men consult theirrecords. Perhaps they discover that no plane belonging to any of theirorganizations is supposed to be on that spot.”

  “And then they send out a fighting plane,” Norma suggested.

  “Not yet. Perhaps that girl watcher heard a vacuum sweeper instead of aplane, so they wait.”

  “And?”

  “Then, perhaps two minutes later, there comes a flash from anotherwatcher—this time a fisherman’s wife.

  “Flash! One single. High. Going south. Very fast.”

  “‘Three hundred miles an hour,’ someone says. Then a fighter plane goesup. And soon, if it’s really an attack, the sky will be filled withfighter planes.”

  “Lives saved—many lives saved by the WACs,” Norma enthused.

  “We shall have done our part,” Lieutenant Warren replied modestly. “Andthat is all our country expects from any of us.”

  “Lieutenant,” Norma asked suddenly in a low tone, “did you noticeanything unusual about the two girls who went into your booth justahead of me?”

  “Why no—let me see,”—the lieutenant paused to consider. “One was rathershort and chunky—of Italian stock. And the other—”

  “Tall, strong—and, well—rather silent.”

  “Yes. Now I recall her. No—nothing very unusual. Quite different incharacter, but capable, I’d say. They’ll fit in. Of course, they’reboth of foreign extraction The tall girl’s parents were German-born.She’s an American, as we all are. She was raised by her uncle.Something unusual, did you say? Why did you ask that?” She fixed herdark eyes on Norma’s puzzled face.

  “Nothing, I guess. No real reason at all. I—I’m sorry I asked. Iwouldn’t hurt anyone—not for all the world.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t, my dear.” The Lieutenant pressed her arm.

  Lieutenant Warren seemed fairly bursting in her enthusiasm for theInterceptor Control. She told Norma more, much more, as they marchedalong. Then suddenly, as if waking from a trance, she stopped dead inher tracks to exclaim softly:

  “Oh! What have I been telling you? I shouldn’t have breathed a word ofthat! It’s so hard not to talk about a thing that’s got a grip on yourvery soul. Promise me you won’t breathe a word of it!”

  “I promi
se,” Norma said quietly. “I’m sure I know how important it is.”

  “Do you know?” some sprite might have whispered. Soon enough the girlwas to learn.

  “Come on in here,” the Lieutenant said a moment later. “I must pick upa suit I’ve had pressed.”

  The air in the large room they entered was heavy with steam. “On thisside,” said the Lieutenant, pushing a door open a crack, “is the beautyparlor. Some young reporters have made fun of it. As if it were a crimefor a soldier to look well!

  “Those girls working in there,” she said as she closed the door, “arecivilians. They come over from the city every day. Sometimes they worryme.”

  “Worry you?” Norma was puzzled.

  “Yes. You see, they’re not checked.”

  “Checked?” Norma stared.

  “Their records, you know. After all, this is an Army camp and, as such,is just packed with secrets. We send out a thousand freshly trainedWACs a week. One of these days we’ll be sending a trainload all atonce. Where are they going? Are they being sent overseas? Will they besecretaries to commanding officers? What other important tasks willthey perform? Our enemy would like to know all this and much more. Andthese hairdressers just come and go. Who are they? No one knows.”

  “But have _we_ been checked?”

  “Have you been checked?” the Lieutenant whispered. “Oh, my dear! TheF.B.I. knows all about you. Your fingerprints are in Washington. Yourlife from the time you were born has been checked and double-checked.”

  “So none of us could possibly turn out to be spies?” Norma breathed asigh of relief.

  “I wouldn’t quite say that,” her companion replied thoughtfully. “Butit would be very difficult.”

  “Oh!” Norma exclaimed, fussing at her hair. “Do you suppose I couldpossibly get my hair set?”

  “I can’t see why not. This is a slack hour.”

  “I’m going to try it!” the girl exclaimed. “Tomorrow I’ll be getting myuniform, won’t I?”

  “Yes, you will.”

  “Then my cap must be fitted properly.”

  “Try it, and good luck.” The Lieutenant held out a hand. “It’s been apleasure to talk to you.”

  “Oh!” Norma exclaimed. “I want to see you many, many times!”

  “My visit here at this time is short. But in the future. Here’s hoping.”

  “In the future. Here’s hoping,” Norma whispered to herself as shepassed through the door.

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