Cherry Ames 04 Chief Nurse (16 page)

Crash went the tray on the floor, tin dishes flying in every direction!

“Oh, Gene! You’re talking again! Hurray for you!” He was smiling too, holding fast to her hand.

“I’m very much flattered,” Cherry cried joyfully,

“that the very first thing you said was
my name!
” The soldier nodded and his smile deepened, almost affectionately.

After that, the flier’s progress was marked. Cherry urged him to talk, but with care and tact. Since music had helped Gene earlier, she tried music once more, using the victrola from the recreation room. She discovered that certain songs, especially melodious
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rhythmical songs, put him in a relaxed and cheerful mood. Then, when he was in that mood, Cherry would talk to him and occasionally ask him funny or tantaliz-ing questions. He began to answer Yes and No. It was a big step.

Under Cherry’s patient encouragement, and with the approval of watchful but unobtrusive Major Pierce, Gene began to talk in earnest. Not very much, at first, and with an effort, but he was talking. One of the first things he said was, “You’ve been awfully good to me, Cherry.” Cherry was so touched, so moved, that she made a rather flustered remark about how nurses do take some slight interest in their patients.

Now that Gene was nearly himself again, fighting down the last traces of the chilling memory, Cherry did not make the mistake of believing him entirely cured.

She realized he still needed encouragement to regain his poise, and most of all, he needed companionship.

So she asked other convalescing, ambulatory patients in the hospital to stop by and visit with the flier. She mentioned this, too, to the nurses and the friendly young corpsmen. Everyone was willing and eager to help the patient they all had puzzled about, everyone wanted to make him feel he “belonged” again. Within the next few days, Gene’s room became the most sociable place in the camp. Bessie Flanders was particularly sympathetic with him. There was always—within
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certain limited hours—someone there reading to Gene or chatting with him. His spirits rose quickly.

Partly to strengthen his disused arm, partly to keep his mind occupied, Cherry wished she could find some occupational therapy for the flier. If they had been at a big base hospital, either at home or abroad, there would have been a room for this purpose, with all sorts of things, like looms for weaving, leather to be made into handbags, materials for painting posters, and simple machinery for making novelties and gadgets. “Machinery,” Cherry thought, “he’d like tinkering with machinery—

or how about tinkering with a gun?” After all, guns were his hobby. And repairing a rifle would not only exercise his mind and muscles, Cherry realized; it might start him thinking constructively about the mystery!

Cherry borrowed a Garand rifle from an infantry lieutenant and presented it to Gene to fix. He was delighted.

“I know the Garand so well,” he told Cherry in his reticent voice, “that I can take it apart and put it together again, blindfolded.”

“Maybe I’ll find you a more complicated gun problem,” Cherry hinted.

Of course Major Pierce, and Captain Willard, too, supervised Cherry’s therapy for the flier. They approved her handling of Lieutenant Grant’s case. Gene steadily improved and at last Cherry sent word to her brother
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to come over to see Gene as soon as he had free time.

Until Charlie could come, Cherry tried talking with Gene herself about the mystery. Like most soldiers, Gene was eager to talk about what had happened to him—as well as he could remember.

“Gene,” Cherry said casually when he paused at one point, “do you remember how you were hit? I mean in the front or the back of the shoulder?”

“Why, in the front, I suppose, of course.” His thin face was troubled.

“Never mind,” Cherry said soothingly. “We’ll talk more about it tomorrow.” But she was more certain than ever that there was a new angle to the mystery of this strange shell.

When Charlie finally did get over to Island 14, the two boys had a happy reunion. Charlie was enormously relieved to see his friend and crew mate almost his old self again.

“Remember a certain date?” he asked Gene eagerly.

Gene nodded quietly. “I’ll be there.” Cherry put in, “If your shoulder is all healed.” Gene turned full around to look down at her with those thoughtful, dark blue eyes. “Shoulder or no shoulder, I’ll be there.” Then he smiled, a little wanly, but it was a game smile. Looking at Charlie, he said,

“Ames, I want to discuss this mystery business. Let’s all three of us sit down and talk it over.”
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Charlie turned to Cherry, “Have you told Gene all the facts to date?”

“No,” replied Cherry. “Not yet.” Gene looked eager for the information and Charlie rapidly explained what they had discovered and showed Gene the diagram of the plane.

“Charlie,” said Cherry when her brother finished explaining about the fragments, “Gene is sure that the front of his shoulder was hit first. I’m sure, too.” Charlie thought for a long minute. Then he exclaimed, “That’s it! Why didn’t I see it before! Look, a shell is a hollow metal case. Inside it are small shrapnel balls and a bursting charge of some sort of powder. The whole shell tears one hole in the fuselage as it enters.

The shock of hitting the plane sets off the bursting powder, the shell explodes and scatters the balls. Both the balls and the shell fragments cause damage to anything in their way. So far this shell acts pretty much like any other. That accounts for the big hole where it entered the plane and the small ones on the opposite side.”

Cherry was growing more and more excited. “I think I see what you’re getting at, Charlie.” Charlie grinned. “Now we come to the point. Suppose both the shell case and the shrapnel balls are made of some new explosive alloy that leaves almost no residue after it explodes. See?”

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Gene nodded, but Cherry had to shake her head. It was not quite clear yet.

Charlie went on. “It’s this way, Sis. The fragments we found in the plane were the residue from the shell case that burst as it entered the plane. There are probably more of them if anyone looks carefully enough. But the tiny balls went on and penetrated Gene’s shoulder
from
the front.
They exploded only after entering the flesh deeply. That accounts for the fact that the big hole was at the
back
of his shoulder.” Gene nodded again and this time Cherry did too.

“And if the explosive metal is smokeless to boot, you can see how mystified everybody would be. Right?” Charlie finished triumphantly. “Now, Gene, it’s your turn.’’

Cherry sat very still at the edge of the bed, trying not to bounce in her excitement. Charlie, too, was leaning forward nervously for what Gene might finally disclose.

The flier, seated very erect in the chair in his bathrobe, looked oddly old for so young a man. He seemed to be trying to arrange his thoughts, frowning a little.

“In the first place,” he started, “there
was
a plane. You were up front and looking forward, not sideways as I was. The rest of the crew didn’t see it. I was slow in warning you on the interphone, because I’d been hit—

apparently from quite a distance—and I was too stunned
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for a minute or two to talk. And you all were a little slow in looking around. Maybe you thought I was dreaming, or I guess we weren’t expecting a plane just at that spot. Anyway, by the time you looked, the plane was gone.”

Charlie’s shrewd blue eyes were wide with disbelief.

“Are you certain, partner? Must have been an awfully fast plane. I never heard of anything as fast as that.”

“That’s the point,” Gene explained. “None of us ever heard of it. I was so surprised I almost didn’t believe my own eyes. Because that plane was incredibly fast. And it fired from incredibly far away. Just before I—took sick, I learned of a new plane that the Nazis have. Special assignment given to a small group of us. It’s very, very fast and mounts a new kind of rocket gun. That new gun fires shells of an extraordinary explosive force. Those planes and shells hum over the water making a sound like a bee. So we call that new plane—or at least that new gun and shell—

the ‘bumblebee.’ ”

“But,” Cherry objected, “that’s a German gun. We’re fighting Japs on this side of the world.” Gene nodded in his quiet way. “Agreed. But why couldn’t one enemy have a new weapon just as well as the other enemy? I don’t say it’s the same weapon. But maybe the Japs have a new gun or plane on the

‘bumblebee’ principle, or on a similar principle, Or a
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plane so built that a gun fires from an unexpected and therefore doubly dangerous angle.” He indicated Charlie’s sketch of where the Jinx was hit.

“Well, it’s an idea, anyway,” Charlie said. “It gives us a parallel idea, an example of how to approach our own problem. Go on.”

“In the second place,” Gene continued, “I think we were shot at not only by the plane which disappeared so fast, but by other guns too.”

“Where?” Cherry demanded. “Land-based? On concealed or camouflaged ships lying close to land?” Charlie said thoughtfully, “We were watching every mile of land and sea below us, and we didn’t see any guns. Not even any smoke. Of course, guns could easily be camouflaged. And as for smoke, I’m positive now that this new shell is smokeless.” Cherry noticed that Gene was perspiring from nervousness, and she did not want her patient worn out. He could not afford to suffer a relapse, especially with the date of his mission so close now. So she said, pocketing the diagram:

“I think that’s enough for this afternoon. Gene must rest now.”

As usual, the nurse’s word in the sickroom was law.

Charlie obediently got to his feet, “I’m going straight to the Intelligence Officer with Gene’s new information plus what we figured out. I want Captain May to have
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every scrap of information, and pronto! So long, kids, I’m off for the airport,” and Charlie left them.

Cherry tucked Gene in. She should have left him alone to fall asleep, but they both were excitedly thinking about the plane.

“If the Jap plane I saw was based on land reasonably near by, that means—” Gene started.

At the same moment Cherry said, “If shells also came from land, as you think, forty minutes from here, then there must be——”

They stared at each other, thinking the same thing.

Cherry tried to laugh but it was uneasy laughter.

“Then that means,” Gene concluded soberly, “that there are Japs on Islands 20 or 21, where we thought there were no Japs! Japs secreted there, lying in wait for us! Man alive, we
have
stumbled onto something!”

“That settles it!” Cherry exclaimed. She started out of the flier’s room as fast as she could go.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

Cherry halted. “To the Commanding Officer to report this!”

He warned her, “But there’s nothing definite to report!

From what I’ve heard of him, this Colonel will ask you for a million proofs—and you have no proof at all!”

“Never mind that,” Cherry said firmly, looking impatiently toward the command post hill. “At least I’m going to return these fragments and tell him everything
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I know! Even if we can’t explain the shots, we
can
deduce that there are Japs hiding on 20 or 21! And that’s of more immediate importance—that’s urgent!”

“Well, good luck,” Gene called dubiously, as Cherry bolted out of the tent.

She ran up the hill, and into the railed enclosure.

At the tent opening, she paused, scared. Maybe she was simply inviting trouble! But this was something which involved the safety of her patients, of the whole island!

This might mean a surprise enemy action! At the very least, even on an off-chance, it should be reported!

It would be flagrant denial of her duty if she kept still now!

“Yes, Lieutenant Ames?” Colonel Pillsbee was at his desk. He glanced up and dryly regarded her.

Cherry stepped through the doorway rather defen-sively. When she looked closely at the Colonel she realized he was ill. He was in full uniform and on the job but her trained nurse’s knowledge told her that he was running a high temperature. Even his funny, bright yellow hair looked limp. What was it? From his voice, she guessed something was wrong with his throat—

could it be bronchial fever? She roused herself from these speculations to answer the Commanding Officer’s question.

“I have a confession to make, sir,” Cherry started bravely. She took from her pocket the particles of metal and placed them on his desk.

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“What’s the meaning of this, Lieutenant Ames?” the Colonel gruffly demanded.

Cherry explained rapidly. She waited for Colonel Pillsbee to scold, but, perhaps because he was too ill, he merely nodded and skeptically waited for her to go on. She wished he would ask her to sit down, but he seemed in a hurry and let her stand there awkwardly.

“Well, it’s this, Colonel Pillsbee,” Cherry said, fighting to sound sensible and calm. “In the course of treat-ing the wounded flier, several new facts came to light, which I feel you should know.” She told him about the visit that she and Charles had made to the plane, what they had discovered and what Gene had told them.

“Now that is all we know
for a fact,
” Cherry said carefully. She was afraid he would not listen farther. “But I should like to mention, sir, the conclusions these facts seem to point to.”

“Don’t you think,” Colonel Pillsbee said wryly, “that you might leave the interpretation of the facts to the Commanding Officer? Or to Captain May? However, continue, Lieutenant Ames.”