“Must be grand!”

“Oh, it is! But we don’t have much time to think of that. We have work to do. Plenty of it. You see, along every coast there are thousands and thousands 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 an aircraft carrier stole in close in the fog and sent over fifty bombing planes, 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 plane is sighted. Just plenty.

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

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

“This,” She Said, Changing the Subject, “Is Boom Town.”

“The two-story ones are barracks,” her companion explained. “Some of the 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 girls prefer 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 the day room to lounge in easy chairs, write letters, read, or play cards. Bed check is 

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