Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1943)

ment the tears in her eyes — the tremulous smile on her lips. Without a word they walked toward the truck, Carolyn's arm about him, steadying him, warming him. As they joined the rest of the survivors in the truck, the searchlight spotted them. Johnny Sparrow gave the truck a quick lurch as the machine-gun fire futilely ripped away at the foliage. BACK at the temple Carolyn was binding up Johnny Sparrow's wounded hand with an improvised bandage of clean woven straw. His eyes were on her with doglike devotion. "Miss Carolyn," he began with some difficulty, "once when I was on a hayride back in Oregon I learned not to let the grass grow under my feet. There was a blonde on that hayride that I kinda liked. But there was a piccolo player on the hayride too, and by the time I got around to telling Mary Lou — that was the blonde — how much I liked her, why — " "The piccolo player had told her first." Carolyn bent her head over the bandage to hide her amusement. "Yeah — that's right," said Johnny in mild surprise. "Ever since then I don't believe in wasting any time. Miss Carolyn," he suddenly blurted, "I'm crazy about you!" Deeply touched by his complete sincerity, the girl rested her hands lightly on the man's big powerful shoulders. "Johnny," she said softly, "you're so sweet." Johnny scrambled eagerly to his feet. "Is it okay, then?" Carolyn shook her head. "I'm afraid it isn't," she answered as gently as she could. "Yeah — I was afraid so." The light had gone out of Johnny's voice. At this point Jones broke in on them. With a casual "How's the hand?" to Johnny he addressed Carolyn. "I've got to go over to the truck. Will you come? I want to talk to you." As Carolyn hesitated, Johnny picked up her coat. "Here," he said quietly, "better take this." "We'll be leaving for Chungtu in a couple of hours," Jones said, as they walked away. "We've figured the Japs won't be here till dawn. Come on, hop in." I— IE helped Carolyn into the back of the truck and placed her on a pile of tarpaulins. Carolyn watched him as he wired sticks of dynamite into neat square little bundles. "How do they work?" she asked. "Simple. Just plant 'em high up on the side of the ravine — hook 'em to this electric plunger, kick it off — and bingo! Little Hirohito's boys'll have more dirt on 'em than they can dig out in a week." "Who's going to do it?" asked Carolyn soberly. "I am, I guess — with someone to string the wire." "Oh!" There was a little catch in Carolyn's voice. "Couldn't anyone else do it?" "There's only four of us left and Johnny's hurt his hand." "Yes — of course," Carolyn said, lowvoiced. "When is it going to be?" "Just before sunup." Jones looked at her steadfastly. "Not much time, is there?" There was no reply. After a few moments Jones said, very quietly, "You want to know something?" Carolyn nodded. "Well — down there at the river, all I could think of was you. And when things got real hot, I made a vow to myself — like some men swear to burn candles at the shrine of their patron saint." Carolyn looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Would you like me to tell you the ?Cilb 4*1* CiA*» (Jjb ("HAVE YOU GOT A STICK OF GUM?") Hun I i i i i ■ »|^M^^ V \ x AN OLD FAVORITE MAKES NEW FRIENDS! Yes... in the Arabic language, too, there is away to say, "Have you got a stick of gum?" America's fighting men in North Africa are hearing it every day! And answering, "Sure!" Because everywhere they go, the Yanks are discovering that a simple friendly gesture like sharing a package of delicious Beech -Nut Gum is a real help in winning the confi dence and good will of natives in foreign lands. For it means, "We're your friends," in a language everybody understands. Not only that . . . the men in the Armed Forces enjoy the refreshing goodness of Beech -Nut Gum themselves, too. And because their needs come first of all, at times you may not be able to buy all you want at home. ?^:^«^l^^ VvCi" l!^^^ M S3S Beech-Nut Gum The yellow package . . . with the red oval 93