Top of The Edge - Federal Agent Encounter Part 1

"Did you see that!?" Cherry sounded both excited and a bit apprehensive as her voice interrupted the stillness of the evening. Startled by the question that so abruptly pierced the silence, Robyn jumped before replying, "I'm not... sure". Her eyes had been half closed. The gentle sound of the surf coupled with the cool March Sea Breeze had begun lulling her into a state of half consciousness. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and peered through her binoculars in the direction indicated by her friend, and saw nothing, "Okay, you're just trying to scare me. Did you really think I would fall for that?"

Cherry remained at a full stop as she continued to stare out over the surf, "I'm telling you Robyn something is out there. I saw a light only for a second or 2 and then it was gone."

Taking note of Cherry's serious demeanor, Robyn now believed her friend had indeed seen something. "Do you think you just might have seen a shooting star or something?"

"I know what a shooting star looks like and I'm telling you that was no shooting star."

"You don't really think you saw a light from some enemy vessel or something like that, do you?"

"Yes... I think that is exactly what I saw."

Robyn Kramer and Cherry Welling were enthusiastic participants for the war effort on the home front. Even before attending the College of Charleston, the two of them had participated in every scrap drive imaginable. They volunteered to watch for enemy aircraft from the Town-hall bell tower of their hometown, Summerville, S.C. and they attended USO sponsored dances at the local American Legion building where they enjoyed meeting and spending a short time with soldiers on leave.

Summerville had become somewhat of an R&R (rest and recreation) destination for a significant number of soldiers and sailors on leave. Many of them would arrive in Summerville via train to take advantage of the wonderful relaxing atmosphere as well as the festive USO sponsored activities.

There was one soldier with whom Robyn had become quite infatuated, and was currently communicating with via written correspondence - Brad Simmons from Fayetteville, GA. For every one letter she had received from Brad, she had sent approximately three to him. Not that she was keeping track or anything like that. She knew that once he shipped out that she was lucky to have received any correspondence from him at all. Cherry, on the other hand, was corresponding with several different soldiers and did not appear to be attached to any certain one of them in particular.

White Point Garden Bandstand - Thu 15 Oct 1942

It was Thursday, October 15, 1942, at about five o'clock in the afternoon. It had been one of those days conducive to the loss of one's coat or sweater. The morning started out uncomfortably cool, but by mid-afternoon the temperature had risen nearly 20 degrees and at this hour was just beginning to cool down again. The two ladies had been hanging out at White Point Garden, which was located at the tip of the Charleston peninsula, when a thunderstorm rolled in. The rain seemed to spark a bit of excited hilarity in Cherry as she began to laugh and twirl basking in every drop - even as it became a deluge soaking her through and through. She only made a run for cover after she heard loud thunder crashes, the kind usually associated with lightning. Robyn, on the other hand, made a beeline straight to the White Point Garden Bandstand as soon as she felt the first drop. Unlike her friend, she didn't care for getting wet unless she was taking a bath or at the pool or beach in a bathing suit.

Still laughing as Cherry ran up the steps of the bandstand, she could hardly see due to the intensity of the rain. She tripped over the last step and was about to fall headlong to the floor face first when she was caught by someone that had no problem simply hoisting her to her feet. She was now standing, looking up at the face of a tall broad-shouldered man wearing a dark gray overcoat and hat. His black-rimmed glasses were dry as was the rest of his attire. He wasn't smiling but he wasn't frowning either. Robyn stepped closer and spoke directly into Cherry's ear, "Meet Mr. John Smith".

Cherry was no longer laughing or even smiling when she spoke, "Mr. John Smith. I am quite capable of standing on my own. So, if you please, I would greatly appreciate it if you would kindly remove your hands from my shoulders!"

John Smith was accustomed to people being intimidated by his size and demeanor and had come to actually expect it. So, the speed with which Miss Welling regained her composure and then spoke so directly completely took him by surprise. He quickly removed his hands and took a step back as his eyes slightly widened.

Robyn had become quite amused over the ordeal and with a mischievous grin on her face she spoke to Cherry again, "Mr. Smith was just telling me that he is here at this moment, in this bandstand, at this park, specifically to meet and talk with us."

Now with a furrowed brow and eyes that appeared to bore a hole right through Mr. Smith Cherry took a step towards him and with noticeable irritation in her voice, she asked, "Who are you, Mr. Smith? if that's even your real name, it sounds kind of made up to me."

The encounter with these two ladies did not go at all the way John Smith had anticipated. Consequently, he now found himself stammering, "Um... I... uh... um".

With her voice raised and driving her forefinger into Smith's chest, Cherry went in for the kill. "Out with-it Mr. John Smith, who are you and why do you want to talk to Robyn and me?"

She made him trip. Smith couldn't believe it. She actually made him stumble backward and trip over his own two feet! Fortunately, he did not fall flat on his back. Instead, he fell against one of the bandstand's support columns, which helped to plant him nicely seated on an adjacent bench.

Reaching into his breast pocket and speaking with a bit more intensity now, Smith answered, "I'm with the FBI Miss Welling!" and thrust his credentials toward Cherry's face. Cherry snatched them from his hand and studied them briefly before handing them to Robyn. "You know more about this kind of stuff than I do. Does it look authentic?" Robyn took her time as she appeared to be going over every detail of Smith's credentials."

John Smith was not amused, "Lady's this is highly irregular! Give that back to me now! Who do you think you... ?"

Cherry quickly seized the moment and interrupted with, "Why Mr. Smith, we're the two ladies you specifically came here to meet and talk with. Have we broken some federal law?"

"No this is not about anything like that. I can't believe you two. I have never witnessed this type of behavior, especially from a couple of...

Now it was Robyn that interrupted as she thrust Smith's credentials back in his face, "The best I can tell according to this, you are who you say you are Mr. Smith, and you were about to call us... a couple of ladies - right Mr. Smith?"

Then Cherry chimed in again, "Well, I'm soaked and getting a little chilly, and this little meeting has become quite uncomfortable for everyone. Wouldn't you agree Mr. Smith?" Before Smith had a chance to answer, looking now at her wristwatch, Cherry continued, "Let's the three of us get back together in two hours, that would be seven-thirty. Robyn, where would be a good location for our next meeting with Mr. John Smith?"

Smith was just about to say something when Robyn replied, "I think the Wentworth Mansion observation deck will work out quite well."

"It's settled then. We will see you at the Wentworth Mansion observation deck seven thirty sharp Mr. Smith".

Smith stood and his brow furrowed as he called after the two ladies now running toward their bikes through the remnants of the thunderstorm, which had slackened to a light drizzle, "Wentworth Mansion?"

Cherry stopped briefly and turned to face him, "Mr. John Smith, if you are who and what you say you are, you'll have no problem meeting us promptly at the rendezvous point to which we just agreed."

Wentworth Mansion

As Smith parked his 1941 Pontiac Torpedo Streamliner across from the Wentworth Mansion, he was wondering how those girls were going to gain entrance into this place at this time of the evening. The mansion had been purchased by the Atlantic Coast Life Insurance Company in 1940 and Smith had his doubts that anyone would be there after the normal working hours of nine to five. A fact that caused him to chuckle to himself as he shook his head. To his surprise however, there were actually a few lights on in the mansion. A result of the scheduled blackouts was that no one left lights on anywhere all night.