But a minute later he took Stan’s advice. A Messerschmitt came up from below and a Heinkel dived from above with another ME closing in from the rear. The three fighters raked the Hawk as they closed upon her. Her Double-Wasp coughed and sputtered. She kept on running but her zip was gone and oil and air came sucking back inside her. Stan knew it was the sea for him again.
“Mind getting wet?” O’Malley called back cheerfully as he sent the Hawk down and away from the enemy.
“No, you wild man, but I do mind losing this ship,” Stan shouted back.
“She isn’t lost,” O’Malley called back.
They were sliding down and away from the big fight. Even with a crippled motor the Hawk could show her tail to a Messerschmitt. They saw the Spitfires and the Hurricanes now, battling the Jerries up above, keeping them from opening a path for the Stukas. The cruisers and the destroyers were throwing shells into the sky recklessly and at the same time pounding to pieces two floundering Nazi battleships.
“Sure, an’ it’s a fine show,” O’Malley crowed.
He had hardly finished speaking, when the Wasp backfired savagely, shook herself, then died completely.
“Now, you wild Irishman, slide her home if you can,” Stan rasped.
“An’ what do ye suppose they have carriers for?” O’Malley called back.
“This bus won’t set down on a carrier!” Stan snapped.