Now she grabbed it, her heart quickening. How silly. She wasn’t doing anything heroic, just trying on a red dress.
At a nearby table, Yvette riffled through a pile of blouses.
Mary worked her way over. “I’m going to find someplace less exposed and try these on.”
“You are too modest.” Yvette gestured at the women in their slips all around her. “Not all Americans are.”
Mary gave her a wink. “I’m from Ohio.”
Yvette gasped and touched the red dress. “C’est bon!”
“The dean of my secretarial school told us never to wear red because it excites the men.”
“Isn’t that what you want?”
Perhaps she did. Just a little. “I’ll try it on. I might not like it.”
“Oui, oui.”Yvette waved her to the corner.
Mary found a spot behind a rack, where she could be as prudish as she wanted. She unbuttoned her shirtwaist dress and quickly slipped the sailor dress overhead and pulled up the side zipper.
It fit perfectly. She gathered her things and found a mirror, waiting her turn to catch a view of herself. Oh yes, she loved it. So summery.
Someone jostled her out of the way, and Mary returned to her secluded spot. Off with the sailor dress and on with the red.
No one stood by the mirror now, and Mary studied her unfamiliar reflection. The fit flattered her figure, and the red—why, it brought out pink in her cheeks and a glow in her hair.
She only needed one new dress. Both appealed to her for different reasons. Both suited her. Both were marked down 25 percent. Which should she buy?
For heaven’s sake, she was choosing a summer dress, not a husband. Mary darted back to her spot and changed back into the safe floral dress her mother would approve.
Yesterday, a letter had arrived from home. Mother was concerned about Mary’s decision to join the choir. Wouldn’t that lead her down the same road of temptation? A good Christian girl should be humble and not flaunt herself. She should put others above herself. She should avoid praise at all cost, because praise led to conceit and all sorts of vain foolishness.
Mary did up the buttons. Her mother was only partly right. Humility was a great virtue, but did humility require hiding in the corner? Nonsense. The Lord had given her gifts, and he wanted her to use them for his purposes. Not for herself, but for him. As long as she kept her priorities straight, she would be fine.
Mary held up the two dresses and studied them until a decision made her smile. She’d buy both.
Off the Coast of Maine
Tuesday, July 15, 1941
“Target sighted. Action starboard. Target is barge, bearing three-zero. Start tracking.” Up in the gun director on top of the bridge, Jim looked through the telescope of the slewing sight through a porthole. Above the tops of the waves, the outline of an old barge rhythmically flashed into and out of view. The Navy had anchored the barge a hundred miles off the Maine coast for target practice.
Beside Jim, the director trainer cranked his hand wheels, rotating the whole gun director on its giant ball-bearing ring, changing the flow of the breeze. “On target.”
Meanwhile the pointer adjusted his equipment for elevation. “On target.”
Behind Jim, the range-finder operator peered into a thick horizontal tube that connected the two optical range-finders and computed the distance to the target. “Range five-one-double-oh.” Fifty-one hundred yards.
Electrical signals from the trainer, pointer, and range-finder were transmitted to the mechanical computer in the plotting room, which would calculate a solution and automatically elevate and rotate all four 5-inch guns to bear on the target.
“Mr. Reinhardt, target angle three-zero. Target horizontal speed double-oh.” Jim spoke on the intercom to the Interior Communications and Plotting Room, several decks below. Sweat trickled down his breastbone.
Reinhardt repeated the message, to verify with Jim and to relay the input values to the computer operators. A short pause. “Solution computed and transmitted to guns.”
“Thanks. Captain, do we have permission to fire?” The intercom connected Jim to the bridge directly below.
“Yes, Mr. Avery. Commence firing.”
