Dave nodded and shrugged.
"Oh sure, me too," he retorted. "But all these fellows on the Victory are swell. It will be quite a problem to decide whom to take along with me. See what I mean?"
Freddy's jaw dropped in amazement, and a faint hurt look came into his eyes. Then suddenly, as he saw the grin on Dave's lips, the blood rushed into his cheeks, and anger took the place of the hurt look in his eyes.
"You—you!" he fumed, and stumbled. "You wait, my lad. I'll fix you for that one later. Look! Parks is drawing the first slip!"
The two boys snapped their gaze to the front end of the line. So did everybody else, for that matter. A tall, lean-jawed pilot by the name of Parks was on the point of dipping his hand into the service cap. He didn't make it, however. His hand suddenly froze in midair as the inter-ship communication speaker fitted into the Ready Room wall started barking out words.
"All out, Fighter Unit! Enemy aircraft sighted! All out, Fighter Unit. Snappy, now! All out, Fighter Unit!"
For one brief instant not a man in the Ready Room moved a muscle. Then the place was turned into a whirlwind of action. It was a whirlwind of orderly action, however. Those boys of the Victory's fighter unit were well trained. This was not the first air alarm they had received, nor would it be the last. Each pilot knew just what he was supposed to do, when he was to do it, and where. Group Captain Spencer didn't sing out one word of command. He didn't have to. He knew his boys well. He just tossed his cap full of folded slips back on the table and dived out of the room. The pilots dived out at his heels.
In less time than it takes to tell about it the whole group was up on the flight deck and hastening to their planes as they strapped on helmets and Mae West life jackets, and wiggled into parachute harness held out by mechanics. Other mechanics had sprung for the planes at the first word of alarm, and the flight deck shook from the thunder of whirring engines. Group Captain Spencer had received information of the position, types and number of enemy aircraft. He started talking the instant he leaped into his leading ship and plugged in the radio jack of his head-phones.
"Twenty thousand feet over Zone CK!" he shouted into all listening ears. "About thirty of them, advance scout patrol reports. Junkers Ju. Eighty-Eights, and some Heinkel One-Elevens. Take off by sections of three and get up there fast. Right-o, lads!"
Dave's and Freddy's plane was in the fourth section of planes lined up at the stern end of the flight deck. Faces bright with excitement, they sat motionless while Group Captain Spencer led the first section off. As it went ripping along the smooth deck, mechanics guided the second section into place and sent it off. Then the third. Then Dave's plane and the two other ships in the section moved forward into position. The operations officer on the bridge dropped his flag down and away they went.