My parents named me Hollith, but everybody calls me Holly. My father’s in the Army Air Corps, not one of them who shoots down Nazis, but he’s in charge of the weather in England. By that I don’t actually mean he’s in charge of the rain and what-have-you, as it’s very variable over there, but he’s the one who says when it’s a good day for bombing the Nazis.

It’s not that easy, watching the home front when your father’s off and you’re the only child. Mother of course does the cooking, but I’m the one who waters the Liberty Garden and watches for enemy agents. I’ve had especially good luck with Big Boy tomatoes and reported a man in a fedora who drove through town looking at our water tower. Being twelve, I’m effective against spies because they will assume I’m looking for my doll or something, not license plate, his being from Ohio. Chief Craycraft agreed that it sounded suspicious and said he’d keep his eyes open. The Chief lets me hang around the station to keep posted on who’s wanted by the FBI. I’m not deputized or anything like that, though.

Going to Colorado to visit Aunt Loraine, Uncle Lester and my cousin Billy wasn’t my idea of a real vacation because there’s no ocean -- not like Virginia where we went when I was seven -- but Mother likes knitting with her sister. Plus she says she sleeps better where it’s not so humid. Uncle Lester makes steel for army tanks, which while maybe not as important as being in charge of the weather, is very important for tank drivers.

It was always fun to see my cousin who’s also my twin, the “twin” part meaning that we have the exact same birthday, though he was born in Colorado and I me, Indiana. Our grandparents had an article in the paper for having two grandchildren born the same day in different states. It didn’t give our names, though, which wasn’t fair.

I hoped that what Mother called my “growth spurt” would have moved me ahead of Billy. We’d been dead even last summer, making it pretty fair when we wrestled, except for me having more places to protect, pretty fun as long as we didn’t get caught.

I was what Mother called my “developing” which I knew Billy would notice right away. He was developing too, I was willing to bet. Differently, of course, but related.

My friend Betty Sue and I kept track of our development. She got a brassiere before I did, but it was for her birthday, not because she needed one. They sell them at Woolworth’s.

It took three trains to get to Colorado: Terre Haute to Chicago, Chicago to La Junta and La Junta to Pueblo. The first and the last were almost nothing: All aboard. Sit and look out the window. Get off. I liked Dearborn Station because there might be generals walking around. La Junta, on the other hand, hardly had anybody. The middle leg was on the El Capitan, 5:45 P.M. to 8:45 A.M. We could have taken the Super Chief and had a sleeper, but Mother said we couldn’t afford it. I’m sure we could have if she cared more about her daughter.

Santa Fe French Toast was what I always got in the diner. Plus root beer. The observation car was pretty fun until you got bored counting silos.

It’s how you get to Colorado.

The soldier was a redhead. As his uniform looked too starched, maybe a new recruit.

When he tossed his knapsack onto the rack and hung his jacket was when I noticed his shoulder patch, the red star with the two eagle’s wings! Army Air Corps, just like my father!

I wanted to point out our connection, that if he went to England, my father would find the best weather for him to bomb in. Mother didn’t like me talking to strangers, though, so I’d have to wait till she went to the bathroom. Bathrooms on a train just go on the track.

With the soldier was a girl, maybe 20 or 30, blonder than me, wearing a floral shift and the kind of a white cardigan that college girls wear. No hat. No ring, so maybe they were lovers going to California where she’d say goodbye on the dock. It would be so sad.

They for sure weren’t brother and sister, the way she squeezed all over him to get the window seat behind us. As they could have been cousins, though. I filed away in my brain how to squeeze over Billy.

Whatever it was the soldier said to the girl must have been clever, the way she giggled and touched his arm. After the conductor punched their tickets, she took off her bracelet.

It was fun looking out the window, but as everything was corn, there was nothing to see. Mother got almost a sweater arm knitted and I explored the club car, but all-in-all, it was mostly sitting. When it started to get dark, Mother pulled down the shades and went to sleep. Mothers can do that, sleep sitting up with their hats on.

Me, it’s hard to sleep when you’re going to Colorado and you’re thinking about wrestling with your cousin, you now being more developed.

I practiced watching for enemy agents. Nobody would spy on Kansas, I suppose, but it’s good to be observant, and a good way to catch spies is with your eyes not quite shut.

A G.I. wouldn’t likely ride with an enemy agent on the El Capitan, but being behind me, the two were the easiest to monitor. The girl’s pumps looked like they might be from a foreign country.

What seemed more interesting, though, was their smooching. It was probably against the El Capitan rules, but with him going off to protect us, maybe it was allowed. I didn’t mind. In fact I’d written Billy a letter with little hearts at the bottom, so he’d know I’d let him.

When we pulled into Kansas City, nobody boarded our car and we pulled out after a few minutes of banging and clanging.

The soldier, lipstick above his collar, stretched his legs and she laid hers on top. When she settled back against his shoulder, I could see the tops of her stockings until she took his jacket from the hook and tossed it over their laps.

The soldier was sideways to me, so he couldn’t tell I was watching, but the girl turned straight toward me. Maybe it was because I was another girl that she winked.

I smiled back my best smile. It often gets you places.

In the process of arranging his tie, she managed to raise her finger to her lips and give me a “hush” signal. Of course I wasn’t going to tattle! A tattletale is a low person.

When the overheads went off, I knew we had a lot of track to our next stop, but when we saw the sun, we’d be in Colorado!

I’d lots of experience seeing things in the dark. Dr. Fullerton says that I have very good eyes, as I can read the second line of the chart. The streetlight outside my bedroom was enough for me to read Photoplay, so I always knew which movie stars were getting married.

The article about Kay Williams, for example, said, “Yes, there is a romance between the two. Kay and Clark have been an item ever since last Nov, and conjecture runs so rampant as to forecast that they may someday arrive at the altar.”

That’s Capt. Clark Gable, of course, also in the Army Air Corps! My father has never actually said that they work together, but it might be secret. Probably they talk on walkie-talkies.

It was also by street light that I read “Married Love,” borrowed from Mother’s dresser drawer behind her girdles. It took me four nights.

“Married Love” was rather complicated for someone my age, but not for one who’s a good reader.