Tyrone Power had a good secret, but he didn't keep it long. As we say in Texas-"the grapevine grows fast when a seed slips." That's why, when the circus came to town, it was packed tight, and all eyes were on a good-looking, dark-eyed Marine sitting there with a strange blond on his lap-a vivacious blonde who wouldn't take "no," She wasn't his only interest; there were fifteen in his company.

Tyrone was laughing like a clown, eating popcorn with butter up to his ears, and saying "yes" to every request. It was like having a fourth ring in the grandstand. One of his dollies wanted a balloon, but quick. Whereupon the Power shifted into second and made the sawdust fly until he acquired the satisfying article.

They really worked the old boy over, but he loved every minute of it. The Marine obstacle course had nothing on this workout; he would have had an easier time if he had been the tightrope walker at the top of the tent.

Tired but triumphant at the end of the circus, Ty took home his fifteen little children from the City Welfare Bureau. He had asked for these underprivileged kids and specially requested that no one be told. Just another Marine with a heart big enough to beat for the rest of the world.

Power, a Marine Lieutenant who came up the hard way, via boot camp in San Diego, is flying high as I write this-the Marine way! Air Corps instructors of the Navy blue have molded him into a potential ace, capable of upholding the highest tradition of the Marines while he flies in any weather, under any conditions, over the waters of the world.

On the Corpus Christi station, Tyrone wasn?t treated like a movie star and didn't want to be. He got it tough as the rest and he's been man enough to give it back. Glamour boys are expendable long about heah and Ty had no desire to lost in the shuffle. Because he had been a screen cupid, and in the public eye, he couldn't make a wrong move. If it weren't for his wonderful sense of humor he couldn?t have passed off many of the embarrassing moments.

You can tell whether a fellow is really tops by what the enlisted men think of him. Power gets a big hand from them. One writer, trying to get the dope on Tyrone, asked an enlisted man how the "pretty boy" was doing. At first polite, then working himself up to a miniature squall, this fellow blew his top. His answer, properly censored, was that Tyrone wasn't glamour boy or movie star, but a Marine. He stated, language further censored, that Power was a regular as the patrol.

There are a whole group of men at the station who will rightfully brush you off, but fast, if you hint that Power is soft. In an early practice maneuver he was to take his men out for a workout. Some thought, "Well, well, this will a push-over." Which opinion they tiredly changed at the end of the day. Tyrone had led his men through the toughest maneuverin' they'd ever done. Some leatherneck!

From the time Tyrone reported to flight line he loved those Navy planes. The SNJ's are entirely different from planes he flew in civilian life. If he could knock off enough time for a good story session with you now, he'd probably talk you into circles about landings. In fact, landing in a huge circle, with motor off, was part of his training. "S" landings are another pet subject with the men, though they're shy as tadpoles to talk about them till they've conquered the things.

Tyrone learned the feel of the plane as he practiced dips and turns, wheels and dives, with split-second timing. Later he may be in a torpedo plane. Speeding into his target in a confusing rolling motion to dodge anti-aircraft fire. He must make steady dives if he is to fly a Navy dive-bomber some day, keeping his target in the center of the cross-hairs in his sight as he skillfully angles toward his objective.

The nightmare of this training is the inevitable "check test." Regularly, Tyrone's instructor rode with him on a check flight. Such lovely surprises as turning off a vital switch to see if Ty noticed it (before the plane went into a spin), or lowering the landing gear while in flight to check his observation, were typical. These tests must be passed-or else. And the "or else" means the end. Now wonder the once-sturdy Power looked like a man emerging from a Turkish bath when he climbed out of the plane after one of these gashes to the blood pressure.

Came night flying, and brother, put yourself in flying Tyrone?s cockpit. Zoom up, off the field, into the pitch darkness. There you are, all alone; to the north, south, east and west it's black. Have to concentrate, think, figure, watch the land you can't see; always peering, meantime, when there is time, praying a bit that you'll get back.

After several such trips Tyrone liked the dark, liked gradually knowing where he was, liked the power he had in the night. Celestial navigation is a phase the water flier learns for just such times. He depends on his instruments and his knowledge of the universe for his safety. Night landings are subjects of gab around the barracks in the wee hours. Some pretty mean landings were made by Power before he knocked off a natural the other airmen could remember. Ask Tyrone about this nocturnal flying and he'll probably say, "Pretty dark up there, skipper, pretty dark!"

Ty went to ground school to pave a practical background for his flying. He leaned to be an expert navigator. "Nav" course may save his life some day when he is over the wind whipped ocean and must return to his ship via enemy fighters, maybe low on fuel. There was gunnery class, and radio; code class; aircraft recognition, and many others.

On the surface, Ty's new role is different from his Hollywood life, but he has had fundamental training that built up to his new work. In the past he took directions, followed orders, learned valuable discipline, a basis for quick comprehension and obeying orders on the split second now. Previously, he leaned to handle people tactfully, to be severe when required. Now he gets along withal types of men, can laugh and talk with the "gold braid" as easily as with flight students.

What will Lt. Tyrone Power be doing twelve or twenty-four months from today" He may train other pilots. He may fly patrol boats off allied shores Maybe he'll be stationed on an aircraft carrier piloting a scout plane. It's possible he'll fly the Navy dive-bomber or the torpedo-plane.

Meanwhile, Tyrone is doing his part for his country on the double. In spite of the pressure of training he has unselfishly given his brief and precious spare time to bond-selling. He has been on many radio programs in appeals for bond-buyers.

When wife Annabella made a brief visit to her husband, they played without fanfare, but how they played! They proved themselves solid in the terpsichorean art. They laughed and talked about everything and everybody, from Hollywood to the might Marines. The villagers expected to see the two dashing around the bright lights, but were happily disappointed. Al they saw was a couple very much in love, making the most of a too-short temporary reunion.

Tyrone, like any other Marine stationed far from home, missed his wife, and her visit was a bingo morale booster. That short reunion tided him over till they can be together again. Until then, letters from his wife and friends are what keep him on the beam.

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