Steve pushed the stick forward and dove his plane nearer to earth, breaking formation from the other ships that were now gaining altitude.
Just ahead, crossing a swamp, was a small band of Sandinisto survivors. Lefty caught the pilot’s objective in leaving the formation of planes and with a peculiar cold, subdued calm, opened fire upon the helpless, retreating rebels, wreaking death and havoc.
One of the retreating bandit officers turned about, picked up a gun left behind on the ground and leveled the butt of it to his shoulder, taking careful aim and firing.
Just then, Steve swooped down to a position that was only a few feet from the ground, leaving himself a perfect target for the final gesture from the retreating bandit leader.
They left themselves perfect targets for the final gesture from the retreating bandits.
The muscles of his face contracted with pain. He let his hand fall from the stick and his whole body slumped forward in the cockpit.
Lefty whirled the machine gun around and riddled the last of the rebels with a barrage of bullets, then grabbing the joy stick in the rear cockpit, fought desperately to level the plane but it was too late. Suddenly everything went black before him. He heard a terrific crash and felt himself being lifted from his seat and flying through space. In another moment, he was oblivious to everything else as his motionless body lay in the center of a swamp, covered with mud and dirt.
With the corral clear once more of the trespasser, two of the planes flew low and dropped out food supplies and quantities of ammunition to the surviving Marines below who waved back in gratitude.
The major signaled to the pilots to regain formation and as the ships fell into their original position, the anxious eyes of the commander caught a vacant space in the line-up.