Barry banked his plane, and climbed again. The clouds enfolded the battle-torn Fortress like soft fleece.
“All right, Chick,” he consented. “I’ll give you a crack at something, but not when they’ve got us pinned to the wall. It’s more important to get the report of this convoy back to headquarters than to sink a ship. Soapy, get on the air and let me talk to the base.”
Circling at reduced speed within the sheltering cloud blanket, Barry radioed a brief report of the convoy’s location, direction, and probable size.
“Shot down twin-float Aichi T98 that attacked us,” he concluded. “We’re going back to leave a few calling cards on the Jap’s decks.”
Roaring down through the ceiling, Barry spotted the circle of flame that still marked the grave of the Aichi. Two vessels of the convoy were steaming past it on either side. The nearer was a big, troop-carrying destroyer. The farther was a cargo vessel of six thousand tons.
“We’ll take the destroyer first,” yelped Chick Enders, cuddling his bombsight.
They were so near that the Jap gunners had no time to swing their heavier guns. The shots that they aimed flew wild. Already the destroyer’s deck was almost beneath. From stern to bow Rosy O’Grady’s shadow swept over the doomed warship.
The thousand-pound bomb went through her deck as through paper, and exploded in her bowels. The destroyer broke in two, spewing into the waves shapeless things that had been men and machinery.
“Now for that cargo tub!” cried Chick, his voice high pitched with excitement.
Barry banked around and came at the Jap freighter head-on. It was a dangerous maneuver, for a cruiser scarcely a mile away had opened fire. Flak was coming near enough to make the air bumpy, and there was no chance to dodge while making a bombing run. Barry hugged tight to the ceiling at a scant thousand feet.