Kitty Carter, Canteen Girl

“Oh, Kitty, look!” Little Billy Carter jumped up and down in delight beside his tall sister. “There’s Daddy!”

“Where?” Kitty asked as she searched the files of marching troops for a look at her dad.

Billy pointed with his chubby finger. “Yonder! The straightest, bestest of all!”

Then Kitty’s heart swelled with pride, too, as she watched a tall man with the other medical officers from the Naval hospital. They were all wonderful, those rhythmical, moving lines of blue, green and khaki, but for the two Carters the heart and soul of it all was the Chief Pharmacist’s Mate they called Dad. They were sure the war could never be won without him.

It was a gala day in Bayport, for every organization had turned out to boost the Community Chest drive. Now a military band was passing, while Billy’s small feet kept time, and scuffed out the soles of his shoes. Kitty had had no idea a six-year-old could wear out so many shoes till she had come home from college a short time ago. Was it really only a few weeks ago? To Kitty it seemed ages, for her whole program of life had been changed in that time.

“There come the WACs, to give Hitler whacks,” Billy prattled.

“And there are the WAVES, our American braves.”

Kitty laughed though her heart was like stone as she repeated the silly rhyme she had made up for Billy at Christmastime when she told him she was going to join the WAVES. How little she had dreamed during that happy vacation that Aunt Nina would be gone in another month, and Billy would have no one to look to except his big sister.

But Kitty couldn’t keep back the blinding tears as the WACs and WAVES passed in their trim uniforms, their heads held high, their eyes bright in the knowledge that they were doing their share to help win the war.

“When are you going to be a WAVE, Kit, and wear a pretty uniform?” Billy wanted to know.

“I’ve decided not to be a WAVE, darling,” Kitty looked straight ahead for fear he would see her tears.

“But you said you were going to help win the war. Dad says we all must.”

“Look, there come the tanks!”

Billy forgot his puzzlement over his sister’s change of plans, for the tanks were followed by jeeps, trucks and more lines of marching men and women. At last the parade went on down Bay Street, but Kitty still stood staring at the moving stream of passenger cars in its wake, though she really saw nothing that passed. Somehow she felt cheated, out of it all. After a while an insistent, small hand tugging at hers brought her back to the present.

“Aren’t we going to see the ducks in the park? You promised.”

“Yes, of course. It’ll be fun watching the ducks. Let’s go across to the bay walk.”

They succeeded in crossing the street finally, and hurried down the path curving around the bay shore. In sight of the water Kitty’s spirits always lifted. After all it was for such as Billy that this war was being fought, that they might be free to go to parks and feed ducks, and walk along a bay shore without fear of bombs overhead. As Dad had said, she was really doing more than her bit, giving him a start in life.

Bayshore Park was a lovely spot of green under magnificent moss-draped live oaks. By the time they reached it the parade had broken up and marines, soldiers and sailors were scattered about the green slopes, resting after their long march. At the duck pond Kitty took a small package of bread crumbs for the ducks from her purse and handed them to Billy.

As she sat on a bench near by, her attention was suddenly caught by a group of Canteen workers serving a lunch to the tired soldiers. There were young girls in the Corps, some even younger than she, laughing and talking with the men as they served them coffee, doughnuts and sandwiches from a long table under the trees. How hungry the boys seemed and how appreciative of having some girls to talk to!

Now she recognized one of the girls from near her home over on Palmetto Island. Why Sally Bright was still in high school! How could she get into the Canteen Corps?

“Look, Kitty, the sailor made me a boat!” Again Billy’s voice recalled her from her abstraction.

She discovered a young yeoman squatting by the pond with Billy as they launched a magnolia-leaf boat, with an oak-leaf sail. Billy was gobbling half a sandwich the sailor had given him.

“You shouldn’t have given him your sandwich!” she exclaimed.

The young man sprang to his feet, apparently seeing her for the first time.

“They’re so good,” he explained. “I couldn’t eat with him looking on.” He had brown eyes that twinkled as he spoke.

“They do look good,” she admitted.

“Let me get you one? These Canteen girls sure have a genius for making sandwiches.”

“Oh, no, don’t bother, please. I’m not hungry.”

“I’ve a kid sister who’s learned lots about good food since she’s been a Canteen worker.”

“Kid sister?” repeated Kitty, puzzled.

He laughed. “Well, she’s not such a kid after all, I guess. Junior in college.”

“How can she be a Canteen worker and go to college, too?”

“Oh, she has plenty of extra time to get in her Canteen quota of hours. A girl can do Canteen work anywhere she happens to be living.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. You mean they don’t have to sign up for full time or go away from home to do that work?”

“Sure!”

“Oh say, why didn’t I know about this before?”

The sailor’s face grew serious at the desperate way in which she spoke. “Why? Would you like to do Canteen work?”

“I’d like to do anything to help.”

“Well, gal, nobody’s keeping you from it! There’s Miss Pearson right over yonder. I’ll introduce you to her. Heard her say she’s going to start a new nutrition class next week.”

He caught her hand and started across the green to the end of the long table where an efficient-looking woman, in a blue uniform with spotless white collar and cuffs, was pouring coffee. Within a few feet of her the sailor stopped suddenly.