Dave Dawson on Convoy Patrol

by Robert Sidney Bowen

The Nazi agent made as though to spit as he spoke the last, and his whole face flamed red with withering scorn and contempt. A thousand cannons began booming in Dave's brain. He trembled from head to foot with the furious desire to leap at von Khole, and the heck with the Luger pointed his way. But with all his raging fury he still retained his common sense. And so he stayed right where he was.

"I get it," he said suddenly. "Your scouting planes have known the raider's position all along, huh?"

"But naturally," the German said. "And the way that ship is now headed means that our aircraft have sighted your precious convoy and have communicated its position to the raider! True, you contacted her first. I suspected that you probably would, but I didn't care. I decided to wait until you had actually sighted her and then put an end to your little game. From this moment on she will receive the true location and course of the convoy. She will close in and strike at the proper moment. The raider, her U-boats, and our long range bombers. It will be a great victory for Der Fuehrer, and a crushing blow to your doomed England. Himmel! Do you think I would have stayed hidden aboard this flying boat listening to you two children jabber about the British Fleet units and the wonderful things they were going to do, if I did not know for certain that this moment of triumph would arrive? But of course not. I only wish I could see the face of your naval ship commanders as they wait and wait for a raider to come sailing into their gun range. A raider that will be hundreds of miles away, and her work well done, before they even start combing the ocean!"

The Nazi was almost screaming by the time he finally came to a pause. Dave, looking at his flushed face, spittle drooling mouth, and popping eyes, knew that he was not looking at just one man but at a living symbol of the whole rotten to the core Nazi breed. Just as Air Marshal Manners had said, "Clever, cunning, and a genius at his work, but a black hearted, ruthless murderer."

"Your raider will not even get in sight of that convoy!" Freddy cried, his face white and strained. "It's well guarded. I can assure you of that."

"Now, can you, my little fellow?" von Khole sneered at him. "You are completely wrong. Perhaps you do not know it, but you are! Until the rendezvous point is reached, only two Corvettes are guarding that convoy. That is another stupid blunder on the part of your willy-nilly superiors. They decided to let the convoy come across with but two Corvettes to protect her until close off shore, instead of sending out naval ships to a rendezvous far at sea. But, no. They decided to spread their navy ships about the ocean and trap our powerful raider and her U-boats. Clever, they thought. Fool the Germans completely. Ah, yes! They thought it was a wonderful idea. Well, you see what a wonderful idea it turned out to be? Long before the convoy reaches the rendezvous point with your Catalinas and your destroyers it will be at the bottom of the Atlantic. Every ship. All of them!"

For a second Dave thought Freddy was going to hurl himself right out of the seat and lunge for the Nazi's throat. Instead, the English youth suddenly threw back his head and roared with laughter. Von Khole's face went dark, a scowl creased his brows, and a puzzled glint came into his eyes.

"So, you laugh when your countrymen are about to die?" he snarled as Freddy subsided a little.

"My countrymen die?" Freddy shot at him. "Why, you balmy Jerry, if they do, it will be from laughing. Laughing at you, and your blessed Fuehrer, at the whole lot of you silly Nazis. Shall we tell him, Dave?"

Freddy looked at Dave and winked the eye turned away from von Khole. Dave had no idea what the act was about, but he played up to it instantly. He shrugged and made a little gesture with his hands.