Dave didn't say anything for a long moment. He stared off into space, as though he were looking eastward across the thousands of miles of land and water to the country of his birth.
"So it's come!" he said softly. "The U.S. is in it at last? Well.... Well, Uncle Sam did it once, and he can do it again, and how!"
THE END
[1] Dave Dawson On Convoy Patrol.
[2] Dave Dawson On Convoy Patrol.
A Page from
DAVE DAWSON WITH THE PACIFIC FLEET
The U.S. Navy dive bomber seemed to half stop and lurch crazily to the side as the furious blast of fire from the enemy cruiser's guns crashed into it. Dave Dawson had the feeling that he had been slapped in the face with a barn door. Everything turned into spinning red light before his eyes. He knew that he was lashed fast to the seat, that both hands gripped the controls with fingers of steel. But he wasn't sure.
He wasn't sure of anything, any more. Was Freddy Farmer still with him? Was the plane still with him? Or had the withering blast of gun fire from the cruiser below sent him sailing off into thin air and death?