THE first of the Hirsch articles on the Civil Air Patrol appeared in the Wayfield Ledger on the day following the conference with Nathaniel Corwin.

In a lively and interesting fashion, the writer described the early history of the organization and its participation in World War II. He traced the postwar development, outlining the growth and scope of both senior and cadet elements. The relationship of the CAP to the Air Force and its over-all value to the nation, as well as to the communities supporting squadrons, were emphasized.

On three successive days the other pieces appeared. The present-day program was outlined, the typical operations which the CAP undertook were portrayed, and the connection with the national Civil Defense plans was underscored. One entire article was devoted to the cadet aspects of the organization. Here Hirsch played heavily upon the responsibility of the town to provide outlets and activities for its youth. It was hard-hitting and direct, forcefully pointing out the need for citizens to do more than simply talk about the problems of the younger generation. In the final installment, the reporter covered the specific plans for the Wayfield squadron. He told how a group of seniors were organizing a squadron to which a cadet squadron would be attached and he invited any and all who might be interested to contact Sam Tolliver if they cared to join. He touched on how uniforms, equipment, and supplies were to be obtained, pointing out the small degree of support which was needed from the community itself. Only in a sketchy manner did he mention the dilemma posed by the proposed sale of the airport to Dawson, but the inference was clear as to the impact of such a sale upon the plans he had described.

There was no doubt of the effectiveness of the articles, for each day in school Tom heard a great deal of discussion about them. Moreover, he gathered from many students that the pieces had caused considerable talk in their homes. That in itself, he felt, was a healthy sign. His father, too, reported that he had received many phone calls about the series and that from his observation they had aroused a great deal of interest.

"You see, Tom," his father said one evening, "this is a part of our way of doing things in this country. If the facts are presented to the people, then they can be relied upon to make their own judgments as to what course of action they should follow."

"I know, Dad," Tom replied. "I'm not worried about people wanting to do the right thing. It's just that I think that Mr. Dawson might have a lot of influence that even these articles can't overcome."

"That's part of the process, too. In a democracy such as ours, there are lots of pressures and counter-pressures. Call it Dawson's influence, if you like, it's also another way of looking at the matter. In a sense, what I arranged for Hirsch to do by writing these pieces was also pressure, or influence. Each one tends to counteract the other, and in the end the power of the voters decides the issue."

"Well, sir," Tom said dubiously, "I hope the arguments that Dick presented make as much sense to everyone else as they do to me."

"They won t." His father chuckled. "But they'll make everyone think a little before he casts his vote. And, after all, that's what we want them to do, isn't it?"

Despite his disappointment over the outcome of the conference with Corwin, Tom had a sense of guarded optimism as he went to the first general meeting held at Nick's hangar. He had been afraid that the inconvenience of the location might cause a few of the students to renege on their intentions to join the squadron. To his delight, however, nearly all of those who had signed up were present, and, in addition, there were a few new members.

Sam Tolliver first collected all the application forms that had been filled out by the prospective cadets and signed by their parents. Immediately after that he placed before the students the idea of forming into teams so that they might visit their neighbors and obtain their support of the CAP.

He had obtained from Wing Headquarters, he said, literature which could be distributed to all who cared to receive it. It would also be necessary to go over a long list of questions, like those which might be asked of any such visiting teams, concerning the CAP. Right after the meeting, all those who cared to take part in the effort should remain to begin their study of the questions. He then stressed that participation in the campaign was to be purely voluntary, for he wanted no one to feel that he had to offer his services. He hoped that, if enough people were acquainted with the CAP, they might weigh their actions carefully before voting for the sale of the airport.

Only a few left the meeting as that part of it came to a close, and Tom realized with satisfaction that the volunteers remaining seemed stimulated by the idea that they might actually be able to do something to advance the organization of the squadron. So keen was the interest and so rapt the attention of all to the questions which Tolliver reviewed that the instructor wryly observed that it was the best class that he had ever witnessed. There was no doubt of the intention of the embryo cadets to take their jobs seriously. If eagerness was a factor, there would be few voters in Wayfield who would not be convinced of the need to retain the airport.

A week after the first hangar meeting, the Ledger ran a one-page layout of photographs of Wayfield taken by the National Guard. Accompanying the photos was an article written by Duncan's engineer friend. Taken together, the words and pictures presented a powerful case against the selection of the airport site as the location of the projected housing development. All of the advantages of the Corwin property that had been pointed out by Duncan were described, plus a few more. And from the reading of the piece it was obvious that the Town Council would have to do a great deal of explaining to justify the airport sale on the basis of needing it for the Dawson project.

"Well, Son, we've fired all of our heavy artillery," Mr. Carroll said as Tom entered the Ledger office during the noon hour on the Saturday following the appearance of the photographs.

"Maybe the heavy artillery, Dad, but we're still shooting at the enemy. Our teams are still calling on people in town, you know," Tom said, with a grin.

"How're they doing?"

"At the meeting last night we got the first reports," Tom answered. "Everything is going along pretty well. The way Mr. Tolliver added things up, about ten percent of the people visited didn't want to talk about the issue. The remainder just about split down the middle. Half of the people said they were in favor of the town having a squadron and the other half were indifferent or opposed to the idea."

"That doesn't sound too bad," the editor observed.

"I'd like it a lot more if we had a clear majority," Tom said.

"Well, you've still got another week to go, you know."

"Yes, sir, but there's no telling what Mr. Dawson may do," Tom said, frowning. "He might . . ."

As if the mention of the real estate man's name had summoned him to the office, the door was flung open and Big Ed Dawson appeared. He was red-faced, chewing nervously on a cigar and moving it rapidly from one side of his mouth to the other. Anger was written on his features as he paused to glare first at Mr. Carroll and then at Tom.

"See here, Carroll," he bellowed, "what's the idea of printing those pictures and the article by that half-baked engineer7"

"Are you complaining, Mr. Dawson?" Tom's father asked quietly.

"I'm asking you what you're trying to pull around here with that kind of tripe," Dawson shouted, his face livid.

"I'm running a newspaper for Wayfield and I print what I think is for the good of the town," Mr. Carroll replied.

"Well, you won't be running it for long! I'm warning you, either you stop putting that kind of trash in the Ledger or I'm out to get you. Do I make myself plain?"

"Perfectly. Now let me make myself plain," the editor said as he stood before Dawson. "I'm an editor. I have a responsibility to this town and I intend to carry it out as I see fit. I'll not be forced by you or anyone else to do what I think is against the interests of the people of this town."

"Against the interests of the town," Dawson said with a sneer. "In the interests of your kid, you mean. I'm telling you . . .

"Get out, Dawson," Mr. Carroll said in a low voice, his eyes blazing. "Get out and don't come back."

Taken aback, Dawson chewed on his cigar. Starting for the doorway, he paused and said, "You've had your warning. From now on, look out!" With that, he slammed the door and left.

There was silence in the office. Mr. Carroll sat down at his desk, a thoughtful look on his face. For his part, Tom was dismayed and he slumped in his chair.

"Dad," he said finally, "can he really... well, you know ...."

"Hurt me?" his father asked. "Yes, I guess he can."

"Gosh, Dad! I didn't want you to get mixed up in this thing and lose your business or anything," Tom said disconsolately.

Mr. Carroll smiled. "Don't feel that way, Son. I'm in this because I want to be and because I think I should be. It's my job to use the press for the things that are right. I wouldn't want to be any other kind of an editor. That's why I'm in this business."

"But, Dad . . ."

"Tom, there's always a time when you have to choose between right and wrong. I think it's wrong for the town to sell the airport to Dawson and I'm opposing it. I think it's right for the town to have a CAP squadron, so I'm supporting it. It's as simple as that."

"But you may lose the paper," Tom protested.

"A paper that gave in to someone just because of fear of that person wouldn't be much of a paper now, would it?" Mr. Carroll asked gently.

"No, sir, I guess not. But I feel that it's my fault."

"You're on the right side, Tom. If the situation were reversed and you were on the wrong side, I'd oppose the sale of the field, no matter what you said or did. You see, that's what this whole thing is all about. Don't worry over it, for I'm confident that everything will turn out all right."

Despite his father's injunction, Tom did worry. In his mind he ran over all of the reasons that had been advanced to support the idea of forming a squadron. As objectively as he could, he reviewed the logic of locating the housing project at the Wayfield airport. Comparing both sides, he could not help but feel that Dawson was entirely wrong in adopting a belligerent attitude. But being wrong wouldn't prevent the real estate man from causing trouble. On the contrary, if the townspeople were to come to the conclusion that the airport should not be sold, Dawson would probably become even more violent in his opposition to Mr. Carroll. With such an enemy, Tom's father would be in an extremely vulnerable position, might even lose control of the paper. If that should happen, Tom would never forgive himself, for he knew how much it meant to his father to have this chance of owning and editing a publication. He wondered if perhaps in these last few days before the Town Meeting he ought to try and persuade Tolliver and his friends to ease up on their campaign to sway the voters of the town.

With that in mind, he went to see the athletic instructor. In a halting and embarrassed fashion, he described to Tolliver the recent run-in between Dawson and his father. As best he could, he told of his worries and concern that his father might be immeasurably damaged by the running fight with the real estate man. And, as a final suggestion, he posed the idea of relaxing the effort to campaign against the airport sale.

"I appreciate your coming to me, Tom. I'm worried about this whole business, too, for there's no telling to what extremes Mr. Dawson'll go if we win this fight against him."

"I thought you'd feel that way, sir," Tom said miserably.

"But I've talked all this over with your father and I think we see eye to eye on the matter. Tom, this town wouldn't be worth living in if we didn't try to do what we think is right for it. Just as your father said, he's for the idea because he thinks it's a good one. I'm for it because I think everyone will get some benefit out of it. Even though we'll all suffer from opposing Dawson, we either must do so, as long as we think we're right, or else we're not being good citizens."

"You mean . . . you're liable to get in trouble over this too?" Tom asked in dismay.

Tolliver's lean face wrinkled in a friendly smile and a kindly look came into his gray eyes. "Don't worry about that, Tom. I've had it made pretty plain to me that I'm making a mistake and that the town fathers don't like my part in all this. But that doesn't matter. In fact, I'm rather enjoying the fight, just as your father is, so the last thing to do is to ease up on our work. What we've got to do is to fight harder and to convince more people. Several of us oldsters have made talks to groups of people and during the next few days we're going to make more. So cheer up and roll up your sleeves. We'll fight right on down to the finish line. And if we lose, we'll take it without a whimper."

A warm glow suffused Tom. He looked at the high school instructor with eyes that were strangely misty and thrust out his hand to meet Tolliver's firm grasp. From now on, he vowed, he'd work harder that anyone to do his part. With people like his father and Tolliver feeling the way they did, there could be no letting down.

As the days sped by and the town meeting drew closer, excitement mounted in Wayfield. In the high school very little else was talked about· Groups of students gathered in the corridors, eagerly pulling Tom or Ralph or young Ed Dawson into their midst to question them on the latest developments.

Rumors circulated all over the building in a matter of minutes, and gossip was rife. Mr. Dawson was suing the Ledger . . . Mr. Carroll was suing Dawson . . . Tolliver had been fired . . . Tolliver had quit . . . Nick Crynes had slugged Dawson ... Dawson had punched Crynes · . . young Ed and Tom had fought to a bloody standstill · . . Tom had been licked . . . Dawson had been beaten. So the stories went, day in and day out.

In the town itself, things were little better.· On street corners, in the hotel, in barbershops, in homes and stores and offices, people discussed the issue that was to be voted on. Though much of the talk concerned Dawson personally rather than the question of the sale itself, the latter was by no means neglected. Foes of the real estate man grew vociferous in decrying the transaction because of their feelings about the man concerned. His friends, and he had many, countered the argument that the sale should not be permitted by claiming that it was all a plot by the lately arrived editor, who was just flexing his muscles by attacking Dawson·

Then in the middle of the week, Dawson ran a full page ad in the Ledger· In it the realtor denounced the newspaper, its editor and staff, the CAP and everyone connected with the movement to block the airport deal. Despite its virulence, the advertisement was clever and effective. Figures were shrewdly used to show that the homeowner would be the gainer by the arrangement which Dawson espoused. The advantages of locating the project at the airport were lavishly described and the whole idea of using the Corwin property ridiculed· Not expressed, but undeniably implied, was the threat that if the voters turned down the proposal, Dawson might give up the idea of the development, which he maintained he had evolved in the interests of his fellow citizens and for the good of Wayfield.

"How does it look to you, Sam?" Mr. Carroll asked Tolliver on the night before the town meeting.

The instructor shook his head. "We had another meeting late this afternoon to take a final check on things, and I'd say it's a tossup."

"Dawson made a ten-strike with that ad of his," Mr. Carroll stated.

"I guess he did. Some of our student teams said that they sensed an immediate change. Things had been going pretty well, we figured, with maybe a slight majority favoring the retention of the field. But the day after the ad there was a noticeable coolness."

"It was a smart idea, I'll have to admit," Mr. Carroll said. "I hated to run it, but of course I had to. Anyway, it shows that he's worried, for otherwise he wouldn't have gone to the expense of running the ad."

"Especially," Tolliver said with a grin, "since it meant throwing some business your way."

The editor chuckled. "I don't think he cared much for that aspect of it. But, as I said, it shows that he isn't too sure of the outcome, and that in itself is encouraging."

"The whole thing is encouraging, as a matter of fact," the instructor said. "It's really a sign of the vitality of the town and of the country, as far as that goes, to see so many people take an interest in a civic issue."

"That's right," Mr. Carroll agreed. "Maybe you fellows didn't know what you were getting into when you decided to organize a squadron. But whether you win or lose, you're probably going to be responsible for the biggest turnout to a Town Meeting that Wayfield has ever had. So if you lose, you can go down with your colors flying."

"Let's not talk about losing, Dad," Tom put in.

"Tom's right," Tolliver said. "We're going to fight right up to the last, and we'll win."

"Any plans for the meeting itself?" Tom's father asked.

"I'm going to ask for the floor and say a few things. And under the rules, I can present supporting witnesses for my claims. So I've arranged to have Major Boswell from the CAP and Major Kelleher from the U. S. Air Force to say a few things," Tolliver said.

"That sounds like a smart move. Having a couple of men in uniform there ought to put a nice touch to your arguments,'' Mr. Carroll said approvingly.

"Do you think Dawson will bring in anyone?" the high school instructor asked.

"From what I've been told, it won't be necessary. Folks tell me that most of the members of the Council are well disposed toward Dawson and will probably throw in a few reasons why they favor the sale."

"Well, one thing is sure: we're going straight down to the wire neck and neck. The pay-off will come right at the meeting, for that's where the undecided ones will make up their minds."

"And if," Mr. Carroll said thoughtfully, "we had one big, final punch, we'd win."