"You must have been, Dave!" Freddy said sharply. "It's my guess the Nazis haven't any long-range bombers to spare against shipping in this part of the Atlantic. We have far, far too much aerial cover for our boats. Besides—"
The English-born air ace didn't continue. He stared off to the left. Dave sensed the sudden movement and impulsively turned his head to look in that direction, too. As a result, they both saw the milky sky split apart for a brief moment and reveal six Nazi Junkers Ju-88's winging along on a course almost parallel with theirs. The haze and the milky overcast parted just long enough for them to see the six-plane formation, and then it promptly closed down and hid all from view. But they had seen the ships and before Dawson took another breath he piloted the B-25 down and away on a detour course toward the north.
"You were right, Dave!" Freddy Farmer spoke first. "Absolutely right! Those were Junkers, or I've never seen one in my life. And I've seen plenty of them!"
"Junkers, right enough," Dawson repeated with a nod of his head. "And that bunch was the second group! In short, there must be a whale of a big Yank convoy that they are hunting for, or else—"
Dawson stopped and shrugged, but Freddy Farmer wouldn't let it remain that way.
"Or else what?" he demanded.
"Or else they are hunting for all planes headed for Casablanca," Dawson replied slowly. "Go aft and get the colonel, will you, Freddy? I think he should be told what's going on."
"Definitely!" young Farmer replied, and quickly slipped out of the co-pilot's seat.
During the next couple of minutes Dawson virtually "explored" every square inch of the milky air all about the B-25 but he didn't sight any planes. Then Freddy returned with Colonel Welsh, and Dawson reported what they had seen.
"They seem to be all around our course, sir," Dawson added. "Do you want us to plow right on through, or continue to detour around this area and come into Casablanca from the north? We've the fuel left to do it, if that's what you want."