“Yes. That’s it,” the girl agreed coolly. “Now they’re half way ’round—two thirds. There!” Her voice rose. “They passed over at exactly the same spot.” “Fo—four of them,” the second gunner announced with a slight stutter. “We’ll get one of them, maybe two,” said the girl. “My father was a Kentucky sheriff. He packed two guns. “Now!” She was on her toes. “Everybody ready?” Her voice was husky. “I’ll count one, two, three. Fire on three and keep on firing.” “O—Okay,” the sergeant stammered. Seconds passed, one—two—three—four—five—up to fifteen,—and then: “One—two—three—Fire!” The girl’s voice rose high. The gun roared and kept on roaring. All was wild excitement until all of a sudden the sergeant shouted: “Everybody duck!” There was an air raid shelter three jumps from the gun. They landed in a heap, the four of them, at the very center of the shelter. And then came a terrific roar. At once all manner of things began falling on the shelter. One was so heavy it seemed it might come through, but it stayed outside. “Oh!” the girl breathed, once they had unscrambled themselves. “How terrible! We missed them and they dropped a block buster.” “What?” the sergeant roared. “Nothing like that! We didn’t miss them. We got one, maybe more. That little noise you heard outside was a Jap plane in a crash with all its bombs still in the bomb bay.” “Oh! Good!” The girl tried to stand up, bumped her head, then sat down dizzily. “At ease,” said the sergeant. “Our work’s done. They’d be out of range by now. They might drop a bomb or two, but I doubt it. “Say!” he exclaimed. “You’re wonderful! Marvelous! You can join our outfit any time you say. What’s your name?” “You’d never guess, so I’ll tell you.” The girl’s face was a study. She had won her first battle with the men of the Army. Did she want to laugh or cry? Who could tell. “My name is Gale,” she said after an inner struggle. “Gale—the girl with the wind-blown hair,” the sergeant murmured. “Not bad. But at times I imagine Typhoon would be better. You
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