CLOSE on the heels of the settlement of the airport issue, the Wayfield Squadron officially came into existence.

Early on the Sunday following the Town Meeting, a CAP plane brought from the state capital a representative of the Wing Commander. The officer, a pleasant but businesslike individual named Colonel Hovell, immediately met with Tolliver, the other men and women who had indicated that they wished to join the organization and the five citizens who had volunteered to serve as members of the Cadet Advisory Committee. For the better part of the day the group discussed scores of matters pertinent to the formation of senior and cadet squadrons. But so well had the lanky high school instructor done his work, most of the items were handled with dispatch. As he was departing, the colonel indicated that there appeared to be no obstacles to the activation of the squadron.

At Nick's hangar the next Friday evening, the regular meeting night, both seniors and cadets gathered eagerly. There was no hiding their enthusiasm, for adults and students alike showed in their faces that they were eager to get on with the job that lay ahead. Promptly at the announced starting time, Sam Tolliver, who was the unanimous choice for commanding officer of the senior squadron, called the meeting to order.

"Most of you know," he said, "that an officer from CAP Wing Headquarters visited Wayfield last Sunday. He came to determine if the organization of a squadron here is desirable at this time. Today," he said, pulling a paper from his pocket, "I received an official communication from Wing Headquarters. It is Special Order Number 127, and by it the Wayfield Squadron is officially activated."

The yell that broke out would have done proud a football team that had just scored a winning touchdown. It was loud, long and packed to the last decibel with joy. And right on top of it, spontaneous as the roar itself, came a snake dance headed by no less a personage than the Honorable Hamilton T. Pettigrew, the local state senator who had volunteered to serve as chairman of the Cadet Advisory Committee.

When the celebration had run its course, Tolliver called the meeting to order again. With a quiet smile he stated that it was also official now that he had been appointed Commanding Officer of the squadron. Again there was nothing he could do to prevent an outburst of cheering. At length, after the noise had subsided, he stated that the first of many problems was the question of a permanent meeting place. Then, with a bow in the direction of Senator Pettigrew, he announced that this thorny issue had been settled. Direct action on the part of the senator had resulted in the U. S. Department of the Interior turning over to the squadron an old wartime barracks building which had been sitting neglected about a mile from the airfield.

"How're we going to get it moved to the field, Chief?" Nick Crynes asked.

"The Senator helped on that, too," Tolliver said cheerfully. "He talked the local Rotary Club into underwriting the cost of moving the building to the airport. What's more, it'll be moved here during the coming week."

There was another round of applause, this time bringing a rosy flush to Pettigrew's face. Now, Tolliver announced, he wanted to discuss the question of organization. The senior squadron, he stated, presently had a total of some seventeen members. As such, it would be termed a reduced strength squadron. It would require a special staff consisting of Medical, Legal, and Communications Officers, plus Coordinators of Women's Activities and of Civilian Defense. As special assistants to the Commanding Officer there would be the Chaplain and the Public Information Officer. The principal staff would be comprised of three officers: the Adjutant and Personnel Officer, the Supply, Maintenance and Transportation Officer, and the Operation and Training Officer. Appropriate assistants, commissioned and non-commissioned, would also be needed. Referring to the CAP manual on organization, the high school instructor went on to explain briefly the functions of each staff officer. Then, finally, he read off the names of those appointed to serve in the positions he had described.

Turning next to the cadet squadron, Tolliver explained its organization. Three senior officers would be required for the operation of the echelon. Titled Commandant of Cadets, Assistant Commandant, and Executive Officer, the trio of seniors would coordinate the cadet activities with those of the senior squadron and would generally supervise the junior unit. From the ranks of the cadets themselves, however, would come all of the other officers of the squadron. These would be a cadet commander, an assistant commander, a supply officer, an adjutant and a flight leader for each of the three flights in the organization. Non-commissioned officers, of course, would also be cadets.

"I've discussed the subject of the appointment of cadet officers with the Advisory Committee, as well as with others in the senior squadron," he said. "It was agreed that, since the present senior class has shown no interest in the organization, probably because of its imminent graduation, the new officers should come from the junior class. In that way they'll be able to serve from now on through their last year in school. So on that basis I'll name the individuals who have been picked to be officers."

There was an immediate stirring among the scores of students who were scattered about the hangar. Then, in the silence that followed, Tolliver announced that Ralph Cross had been selected as Cadet Commander, Tad Sullivan as Assistant Commander, Red Martin as Adjutant, Tom Carroll as Supply Officer, Ned Banks and Jim Trussell as Flight Leaders for the male flights and Jane Dawson in the same capacity for the distaff element.

When Tom heard the names read off, a keen sense of disappointment flooded over him. Privately he had nursed a faint hope that he might be made the commander. Admitting to himself that perhaps he had been brash in that expectation, he still felt that he might well have fit in as assistant to Ralph Cross. The latter, he was prepared to acknowledge, would make an ideal number one man, for he had a large following in the school and had demonstrated his leadership qualities. But Tad was another matter. He liked Tad, but he felt that his friend was no better qualified to be assistant commander than was he himself. The Supply Officer of the squadron, though on the staff, was down the ladder, not important, and certainly a job that Tad or anyone of several others could do as well as he could.

Hurriedly masking his feelings, he grinned at each of the individuals who had been tagged for jobs by the high school instructor, in turn giving them a friendly wink or wave of the hand. Then, still wondering at the selections that had been made, he tried to concentrate on the additional information that Tolliver was passing on.

The chain of command, Tolliver explained, had to be understood by all in order that the place of the squadron in the national organization might be clearly understood. In that respect, he said, the squadron was the basic operating unit for the Civil Air Patrol. All the necessary flying and ground functions are administered by the Squadron staff, in the case of the Wayfield Squadron by the officers previously named. Regulations required that each squadron should be a complete and self-sufficient operating unit, ready to meet any emergency with all the necessary equipment and specialist personnel. Command channels run from National Headquarters in Washington to the Wings, one of which is located in each state or territory. From the Wing, the command chain goes down to the Group and thence to the Squadron.

Tolliver dwelt on this subject at length, tying it in with the general relationship of the CAP to the U. S. Air Force. Not until he was sure that the subject was clearly comprehended by all did he dismiss the matter in order to move on to a discussion of the immediate problems facing the new squadron. First on the list would be the rehabilitation of the new meeting place. He would, he said, develop definite plans for the work that had to be done on the building and would take the matter up at the next meeting. This problem was, in turn, related to the steps that had to be taken to acquire and store the materials and equipment that the unit would need. Procurement would be through official channels and by purchase. And, the instructor said wryly, the purchase of needed materials would then raise the question of funds. He asked all to give their earnest attention to thinking about means by which the new outfit could raise money for the many purposes for which it would be needed. In bringing the meeting to a close, he announced that the squadron might begin training on a limited basis as soon as possible, for he felt that it was never too early to get on with their principal job: that of making themselves ready to discharge whatever responsibilities might be imposed upon them. Before dismissing the assemblage, he requested all officers, both senior and cadet, to remain behind for a short while.

"I know you're all pleased that things have moved so fast," he said to the small group that stayed in the hangar. "But I want to point out that we've lots of work ahead and the accomplishment of it will depend upon you officers."

With that he went on to hand out assignments to all of the officers. Ranging from the first steps necessary to compile records on each member to the drawing up of plans for the placement and rehabilitation of the old barracks building, the tasks given to the staff were as complicated as they were numerous. There was much questioning and talk back and forth, but when the session was concluded there was enough work laid out to satisfy the most ambitious of the group.

Tolliver, after bidding good night to all, suggested to Tom that he ride home with him. For a few moments after they had settled down in the instructor's car there was silence. Then Tolliver said, "Tom, you've been one of the most active members of our little gang of organizers. In fact, I think you've done more than anyone else to help us get this outfit started. I wanted to tell you tonight, in case you may have been wondering, just why it is that I appointed you supply officer instead of making you the commander or assistant commander of the squadron."

"Uh . . . that's all right, sir," Tom mumbled uncomfortably.

"You see," Tolliver continued, "I reasoned that Ralph has a following in the high school and that to make and keep the squadron strong, we would need many of his friends in with us. And you know as well as I do that he's a fine chap and will make a good commander in his own right."

"I certainly agree, sir," Tom said emphatically.

"As far as ability goes, I don't think there's any difference between the two of you. Both of you arc well qualified for the top job. But having picked Ralph, I wanted you to take the one that I think is the next most important, and that's the assignment as Supply Officer."

"Yes, sir," Tom said quietly, still mystified.

"The assistant commander is important, of course, but his duties and responsibilities don't really amount to much more than just backing up the commander. Now I know from my experience in the last war that the squadron will function no better than its supply system. I need someone who is competent and conscientious, willing to spend long hours of tedious work in keeping the supplies and equipment in perfect shape. It's not going to be easy, but I think that it's the most important slot outside of that of the commander, so that's why I wanted you to take the job."

"Thank you, sir. I guess I . . . well, I wondered what it was all about," Tom said with an embarrassed air.

"I thought you would, that's why I asked you to ride home with me after the meeting. Everything squared away now?"

"Yes, sir. And I'll do my very best at the job," Tom answered sincerely.

"I know you will, Tom. That's the big reason for you getting the job," Tolliver said warmly.

So it was that Tom busied himself during the coming week reading and studying manuals dealing with supplies and equipment. He used reams of paper for making notes, figuring supply plans and drawing sketches of what he felt would make an ideal supply room. Toward the end of the week, he made a trip out to the airport to watch the moving of the old barracks to its new site, a short distance away from Nick's hangar. When the building had been located, he trooped through it, along with a group of seniors and cadets who had come to the field to inspect the new home of the outfit.

The structure was in bad shape, and at the next meeting Sam Tolliver spent almost the entire session discussing the work that had to be done on it. As a result, it was agreed that the entire organization would turn out with saws, hammers, nails, and whatever else they could lay their hands on, and spend a weekend trying to rehabilitate the building. Tolliver, in consultation with Tom and the senior Supply Officer, Lieutenant Jim Ellis, drew up lists of materials that would be needed. Authorizing the purchase of the building supplies, the new commander said that he would advance his own money until the squadron could find funds to repay him.

Saturday morning, there was a large turnout of both senior and junior members for the repair work. Divided into teams and under the supervision of the seniors, the cadets labored mightily. Roofing was ripped off and replaced with new shingles. Windows and doors were squared and tightened. Loose siding was hammered into place or removed and refurbished with newly-carpentered boards. Flooring was carefully examined, torn up where necessary and new planks fitted into place. Linoleum was laid over the entire floor, immediately brightening the whole interior.

By evening, after being interrupted only by a huge lunch which had been prepared by the girls who had been among the first to join the squadron while the others worked, most of the carpentry had been finished. Outside, the contrast between the old and new boarding gave the barracks a patchwork look; but indoors the linoleum and beaverboard that had been installed created an appearance of newness and orderliness.

Sunday was devoted to painting and shelving. With a spirited group of assistants, Tom barely managed to complete work on the shelves for his supply room before another team under Red moved in to tackle the painting of the area. Meanwhile, the faded yellow walls of the building's exterior had been transformed into shiny white sides that contrasted nicely with the red window frames and doorways. Only the girls were disappointed, for the new curtains that they had made for the spanking-clean windows could not be hung because of the wet paint. But in all other respects, as Sunday drew to a close, the home of the Wayfield Squadron was something to be proud of.

"Makes me feel sort of happy," Ralph said, standing off to one side and surveying the building.

"Guess I'll have to put a fresh coat of paint on the old hangar," Nick Crynes said critically. "It won't do to have my place looking like the home of some poor relation."

"I'll help, Nick," Tom put in.

"We'll all help," Red added.

"Now that's what I like to hear," Nick said approvingly. "If I had any doubts about the CAP doing lots of good around here, they're gone now."

"We haven't even started yet, Nick," Sam Tolliver said with a smile. "Besides, we all owe you a lot for helping us out the way you have."

Nick looked uncomfortable. "I was just kidding. I haven't even told you yet that I'm turning my plane over to the squadron. It'll be on a loan basis first. Later, if you like the idea, you can get someone to estimate its value and then pay me when you get around to it."

Stunned by the mechanic's generosity, the little group was momentarily silent. Then, pounding Nick's back till he shouted for mercy, they gave vent to their feelings. There was no doubt left in his mind as to how much they appreciated his generous gesture. In the end, his eyes overly bright, Nick threatened to withdraw his offer unless they stopped telling him what a wonderful fellow he was.

Commenting on the garage man's gift once again as he was walking home with Ralph and Red, Tom said, "How can we miss when we have guys like Nick doing things like that?"

"You're right, Tom," Ralph said. "What Nick's done, the way Mr. Tolliver--pardon me, Major Tolliver now-has gotten things going, all the work that everybody's done, well, it just goes to show how much an outfit like the squadron can mean."

"And don't forget Mr. Corwin and Dad Duncan and the others," Red added.

"Everybody's been swell," Tom said happily.

"It's sure to pay off," Ralph put in.

"It already has. Three fellows called me today and asked about joining up," Red said.

"Make it four, Red. I was talking to Ed Dawson last night, and he said he'd been thinking this thing over and would like to sign up," Ralph said.

"Dawson!" Tom exclaimed. "We don't want him in the outfit."

"Wait a minute, Tom," Ralph said sharply. "That's no way to talk. Once you get to know him, you'll find out he's okay. His sister has already joined, you know."

"Maybe she has, but I don't want any part of Ed Dawson. From what I've seen of him, we'd be better off without him," Tom stated with bitterness.

"I don't think it matters much what you think," Ralph said hotly. "Ed Dawson's a friend of mine and if he wants to join, I'll help him."

"Go ahead," Tom shot back.

"Hey! Cool off, you guys," Red protested. "This isn't the time to start brawling."

Still irked, Ralph said, "I know you mean all right, Tom, and that you're in this up to your neck. But it isn't exactly a private club .... "

"No one said anything about it being a private club? Tom retorted angrily. "I just don't like Dawson, and I don't like the idea of him joining the squadron."

"What you like or don't like is your own business," Ralph rejoined, his tone biting, "but this squadron is open to anyone who is qualified to join. If Ed wants in, I'm going to help him, so you might as well learn to like it." With that, his face clouded with anger, Ralph turned and walked away.

"Golly, Tom, did you have to . . ." Red began mournfully.

"Look, Red. You know as well as I do that Dawson won't make a good cadet. I guess if Ralph wants him to get in, then he'll get in. But I don't like Dawson and I think Ralph's making a mistake. And if Ralph doesn't like what I think, then he can do what he wants to about it. But I'm not going to change my opinions about Dawson."

"Tom," Red said seriously, "I guess no one can blame you for feeling the way you do about Ed Dawson. You and he haven't hit things off, right from the start. And then, his father didn't help the situation by trying to buy the airport .... "

"That hasn't got anything to do with it," Tom interrupted.

"I know, I know," Red continued patiently. "But there's no getting away from the fact that it's so. Still, as Ralph says, Ed is eligible to join the squadron, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Maybe not. But I'm not going to help him get in. And if he does join, he's going to have to measure up to the others. He won't be able to count on his friendship with Ralph to get him by. I'll see to that," Tom said grimly.

"Now that's just what's wrong. Tolliver, Nick and you yourself have all said that the outfit will have to depend on teamwork, if we're going to get anywhere. And if you and Ralph, or you and Ed, start scrapping, then there won't be much teamwork. So you've got to decide what's more important, the success of the squadron or your hassle with Ed. Savvy?"

For a while the two friends walked along in silence. Finally, summoning a faint smile, Tom said, "Okay, Red. I guess you win. You've hit me where it hurts. Let Ed join up. I'll do my part, but he'd better do his, too."

"Attaboy? Red cried warmly. "Just forget Ed and think of the outfit."

In saying that Red had hit him where it hurt, Tom had not over-stated his feelings. Already there had been born in him a fierce loyalty to the squadron. Equally strong was his determination to make the operation of the organization a success. Neither Ed Dawson nor Ralph Cross nor anyone else would stand in the way of that, he resolved. His own feelings, he admitted to himself, would have to be subordinated to the general good rather than risk any sort of a break that might create a cleavage in the cadet ranks. For his part, he promised himself, he would do everything possible to maintain good morale in the outfit.

Over and above his anxiety to keep the squadron running smoothly was his desire to strengthen the friendship that had developed between himself and Ralph. For that reason, as much as any other, he regretted the clash that had occurred. Yet he could not help but wonder how much of a strain his relations with the cadet squadron commander could stand. Further tests, he knew, were almost certain to come. Somewhere, sometime, there would be a showdown between Dawson and himself. On the outcome of that crisis would depend a great deal: his relationship to Ralph; possibly the success of the cadet squadron; and maybe a lot more.