The Zeros were larger now, growing larger every minute as they dived down at the formations of American planes trying to climb away from the field. It looked as if all the planes were determined to crash head-on into each other at the greatest possible speed.
Scoot heard a short command come over the radio from his squadron leader. He grinned.
“Just what I thought he’d do,” he told himself, and then shoved the stick hard to the right, as he pulled back on the throttle. The American group split, half going to the right, half to the left, in a maneuver so sudden and sharp that the Japs in their Zeros could hardly believe their eyes at seeing planes which had been almost in their gunsights disappear so quickly. They still thought that their lightly armored Zeros were the most highly maneuverable planes in the world. They’d not had much experience yet with the new Hellcats.
Scoot’s wing tipped sharply, and the craft seemed to stall. Then, giving her the gun again, he flipped completely over. He knew that the Japs, in that part of a second, would have roared past the spot he had just been in and now the American planes could chase them on down toward the field, coming in from the side and rear.
“There they are!” Scoot cried. “Just about set up in position!”
The first Jap planes were pulling up desperately from their dive, attempting to get back in position to meet the attack of the Americans. Scoot picked the leading Jap plane, got it in his sights and roared up on it from a little below. He held his fire, held it a fraction of a second longer, then pushed the fire-control button with a vicious jab that almost drove it out of its socket.
Black smoke crept back from the Zero, then flame which fast grew into a huge sheet of fire enveloping the entire craft. It slowed, seemed to stagger a moment in the air. Losing power at once because of its climbing position, it twisted and turned.
As Scoot pulled up and away, he kept his eye on the blazing Zero as it fell—at first lazily, then faster and faster—toward the ground.
“Is it going to—Yes, by golly!” Scoot cried as the flaming plane crashed into the huge hangar still standing at the edge of the Jap field below. There was a roar of fire, a great cloud of black smoke and Scoot threw back his head and laughed loud and long.
“Who said a fighter couldn’t take care of a hangar?” he demanded. “Why did I think I had to leave it for the bombers? Boy, oh boy, is that good?”