Dave Dawson at Casablanca

by Robert Sidney Bowen

"Sorry, and all that!" the English youth snapped right back at him. "I'll be still. What were you going to say, Dave?"

"Figure the President's trip business out," Dawson went on speaking again. "Okay. So for what other reason should we be attacked by a mysterious plane from a mysterious raider in the middle of the Atlantic? I can think of only one, and this is it. Take it or leave it. The Nazi U-boats aren't doing so hot for Hitler these days. We're sinking his steel sharks left and right, and he's going to run out of them before long. Okay. Where is a lot of our stuff going these days? To North Africa. And a lot of it is being flown over. Okay. The Nazis don't stand a chance of going after our transports with their planes, like they can on the supply route to England. So what do they do? They send a sea raider out, fitted with a scout seaplane. The sea raider's detector picks out one of our planes crossing at night, and the seaplane goes up to high altitude and waits. Maybe those distress signals are part of the gag to get our plane to go down for a look. Anyway, the seaplane pilot drops his flares. They light up the target for him and also blind those aboard the transport plane long enough for the Nazi rat to do his stuff with his guns. And there you are. Take it or leave it!"

"Just the point, Dawson," Colonel Welsh suddenly broke in. "I don't know whether to take it or leave it. I certainly don't!"

"Oh, you there, sir?" Dawson gulped as he turned his head around. "I was just—well—"

"I know, and I'm glad I heard what you said," the colonel interrupted him. "I was certain that they were laying for us because they believed the President to be aboard. Yet I swear I don't see how they could possibly have found out. I'd stake my life that only we three know the contents of those sealed envelopes."

"If I may say so, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up, "I have a feeling that Dawson has come very close to the truth, if he hasn't hit it exactly. Frankly, sir, it was just too perfect for the Nazis to have planned it this way. There—there just wasn't enough time, I'd say."

"What do you mean by that last?" the colonel asked him.

"I mean that if we had been attacked by a land-based plane, we could take it that the Nazis had got wind of the truth and had come after us," the English youth started to explain. "But that aircraft was from a surface ship—a surface ship that was directly in our path. Tell me this, sir, if you will. On the way down, what did you plan to do when you reached Trinidad?"

"Eh?" the senior officer grunted. "Why, see you two, of course, and find out what had happened, if anything. After I had heard what you had to say, I'd decide what to do next. Why?"

"Well, there you are, sir!" young Farmer cried. "That proves that Dawson's idea must be right. Don't you see? Even you weren't sure as to where this aircraft would go next. You didn't even give the pilot his course instructions until the very start of the take-off. So how could the Nazis possibly have found out and radioed that surface vessel to sail to a point directly in our path in the time it took us to fly out here from Trinidad? It's—it's silly, if you'll forgive me, sir."