Cherry Ames, Companion Nurse by Helen Wells

Author:Helen Wells [Wells, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780826104311
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Springer Publishing Company, Incorporated
Published: 2007-12-10T00:00:00+00:00

F I R S T M I S S I O N

103

Wade strode in hurriedly but with a big smile on his face.

“Men, I’m your pilot. Name’s Wade Cooper. I’ll have you in England, in a real hospital, in a jiffy.” His voice trembled. “Just take yourselves a good nap. Nurse Ames here, and the sergeant, will be looking out for you every minute.”

Cherry took another precious moment to reassure the men. Their stricken faces showed they were listening. “Fellows, even if you’ve never been up before, don’t worry. Captain Cooper is a crackerjack pilot. He’s been in combat and—”

“I flew in North Africa in the old days,” Wade said.

“Yes, sir, North Africa and around the Mediterra-nean—”

Cherry whispered hastily, “Before, you said China and Russia.”

“Explain later. Altitudes?” They moved aside to talk altitudes for a moment. “Just relax, boys. You’ve earned it!” Wade half ran up the aisle of litters. Cherry saw relief in some of the faces as he passed, and climbed through the cockpit door.

Cherry sat down in the tail and strapped in. The plane started to vibrate. She happened to look out the low window, and nearly leaped out of her seat.

There, on this restricted military airfield, stood Mark Grainger! He wore shabby civilian clothes, an old hat pulled furtively over his smudged face. But it was Mark 104

C H E R R Y A M E S , F L I G H T N U R S E

Grainger and no mistake! He was hovering around a plane which was evidently a special plane. What was Mark Grainger—and obviously in disguise, too—doing here? All Cherry’s suspicions were aroused. What if he were a spy . . . Cherry’s hands turned cold. She ought to warn someone—She could still stop the take-off—

But they were taxiing now. Too late.

Cherry sat back in the bucket seat feeling sick. Then she tore herself out of her strappings and threw herself flat beside the low window. Maybe she could get another glimpse—maybe when their ship circled and rose—Yes! There he was! She looked down to see Mark Grainger, a diminishing figure now, slipping away from the plane. Only now he carried a big shapeless bundle!

“Miss Cherry,” Bunce asked anxiously, “are you sick?”

Cherry turned, and tried to pull herself together.

These wounded men needed attention—Wade could not turn back now. Maybe Dick could radio a message.

But what? No, it was too late.

“Miss Cherry! Miss Cherry!” Bunce put firm hands on her shoulders. “Here, drink this.” Automatically she swallowed an airsickness capsule in a little water. Sheer will, not the capsule, cleared her head. Her intense fright receded into calm. Seeing Mark Grainger here had been a shock. Well, she must put it out of her mind now. Her patients came first. She would ask Wade about that special-looking F I R S T M I S S I O N

105

plane when they got home. Cherry went to her patients.

Their great aircraft had gained height and leveled off low, around six thousand feet. That was not a safe height but she was afraid some of the wounded could not stand higher altitudes.

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