My well-kept secret

A few years ago, probably in 2004, I went on Google and researched Arlington Hall, and discovered that my life-long secret was no longer necessary. The freedom of information act had released the data on Arlington Hall and we could now tell of our experiences there during the war. I wish it had happened earlier, so I could have assured my mother that I had served honorably in the Army, and had not compromised myself in any way. Actually, I got a presidential citation for my work there. But it is too late for that now, unless she is looking over my shoulder, as I sometimes suspect, and now she will never know.
Only four of us went up to Arlington Hall from basic training in Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia, and we were the last in the barracks to get an assignment. We were gathered together and told that we had been assigned but that we would be getting no orders. We stared at each in wonder. I must say a more motley crew could hardly be imagined. First and foremost, there was a recruit I have always thought of as Prima Donna, so perfect was she in all ways. Perfectly coiffed, perfectly groomed, makeup expertly applied, she was a picture of soldierly presentation. She went all through basic training without one demerit and we in the barracks got sick of the inspectors praising her area. Then there was poor Sad Sack, who could get nothing right. Plump, even lumpy, her hair was always escaping its untidy bun, she couldn't tie her tie right or even tie her own shoes. She got innumerable demerits and was always pulling extra duty for some infringement of the rules. Then there was me, a scrawny 106 pounds, uniform always too big, and with curly bright red hair. The fourth recruit was a pleasant little extrovert who loved life and lived it to the fullest. I at once felt that we would be friends. But we all had one thing in common- we were all redheads. I will admit that that gave me pause, once I realized it to be the case.
But there we were, gathered together and told to pack our duffel bags and assemble out side the barracks in thirty minutes. I will admit that we all felt apprehensive. Why didn't we have orders? What was our destination? Were we going to be sex slaves as my mother always said of women in uniform?
We stood outside and waited. After what seemed a long time, a jeep pulled up in front of us, with a stern sergeant behind the wheel, and we scrambled in, Sad Sack in the front with the driver. With our duffel bags under our feet, we rattled off to our unknown destination. More tomorrow