She said this in a single breath and Margaret could only imagine what her friend must be feeling. It was suffocating to be so uncertain about what tomorrow might bring, and Margaret understood that these little efforts were as much about rescuing themselves as it was helping the men. Any little thing they could grasp on to when everything else was in disarray brought a brief sense of peace.

Gladys looked convinced, though not enthusiastic.

“I’m in. On one condition,” she said.

Margaret looked at Dottie, who shrugged.

“Name it.”

Gladys folded her arms and grinned. “Next time, I pick the joyride. Even preggers here can come along.”

Margaret inhaled sharply. She could only imagine what mischief Gladys would get them into. But she’d promised to help Dottie, so she would say yes to anything.

“You’re on.”

Dottie suggested that they continue their makeshift conclave. She pulled yarn from her bag. Gray for Margaret, blue for Gladys, and brown for herself.

“We’re going to start with a simple pattern. I’ve got supplies for both of you.”

She pulled out a package of long, slender knitting needles and unfolded a tattered piece of paper.

“These are called Wonder Socks,” explained Dottie. “The design you see here in the heel and toe is supposed to save on yarn by letting you take out those pieces and replace them when they wear. So we’ll also knit some extra heels and toes and send them along as well. Other than that though, it’s a pretty straightforward pattern. I picked wool yarn since it’s the warmest and holds up the best.”

Gladys held up one of the needles and wielded it like a sword, challenging Margaret to a silent duel.

The needles made a clinking noise as they tapped against each other, and after a minute of playful fencing, Dottie called it a draw.

“Well,” Margaret said, pleased at how the evening was turning out. “These will be our weapons, then. A woolen battlefront to make the soldiers’ feet comfortable as they fight in Europe.”

Dottie smiled, but it was wan. Margaret understood. The gravity of what they were doing was not forgotten even among their cheer. They were both worried about John. She didn’t want to lose a brother. And Dottie didn’t want to lose a husband before she even became a wife.

Gladys walked over to the Emerson radio that sat on a nearby workbench. She set aside the leather strips that laid across it and turned the dial until “In the Mood” by Glenn Miller came on, nearly at the beginning. The spirits in the room were immediately lifted and the girls got to work.