Dave Dawson on Guadalcanal

by Robert Sidney Bowen

As a warning gesture the big Jap patted the hilt of his samurai sword, and then stepped aside and jerked his head in a silent order for Dawson and Freddy Farmer to step by him and outside. They stepped out into a fairly wide companionway, and as the Jap motioned for them to move off to the right, they saw that the far end of the companionway opened up into what was obviously one of the hangar decks of the carrier. They could see Zeros and Nakajimas, and a couple of other types that they could not make out at that distance.

They didn't have much time to study the parked planes they could see far ahead, however. The big Jap soon ushered them into a much narrower companionway off to the right, and then up a ladder. They came off the top of the ladder onto the broad flat flight deck of the carrier. It seemed covered from bow to stern with planes, with a narrow runway lane down the middle. Gazing at it, Dawson couldn't help but think of what a mess it would make if just a single plane taking off should skid to either side and lock wings with the long rows of parked planes.

"Or just a couple of well placed incendiary bombs!" he murmured absently to himself. "Boy! What a bonfire that would be!"

"Eh, Dave?" Freddy Farmer whispered at his elbow. "What was that?"

"Nothing, pal," Dawson sighed. "Just a little wishful thinking!"

At that moment the big Jap gave them a gentle push and nodded along the flight deck in the direction of the flight bridge and ship control turrets. The two youths obeyed at once, and as Dawson weaved his way in and out among the parked planes, close cropped Jap heads seemed to pop up from all sides and grin and leer at him. He paid them little attention, however. He was more interested in getting a look at the rest of the Jap force spread out over the surrounding waters. It was difficult, however, because folded wings and parked fuselages kept cutting off his line of view. He did sight the two other carriers for a brief instant—and sort of wished he hadn't. A three-carrier task force meant at least fifty other ships of different descriptions. And a surprise force that size could cause a lot, an awful lot, of trouble if it got the breaks. In fact, it might well change the entire course of the war in the far flung Pacific.

Fortunately for Dawson, he wasn't allowed much time in which to brood over that possibility. He and Farmer soon reached a point directly below the flight bridge. There the big Jap ushered them through a door and along a companionway, and up a couple of more deck ladders. Their little "walk" finally terminated in the well appointed quarters of none other than Admiral Suicide Sasebo himself. And the mad killer was there in the flesh, too, flanked on both sides by his runt-sized staff officers and aides. Short, overfed, bandy-legged and squint-eyed, the whole lot of them. At first glance they looked like a bunch of cross-eyed street urchins dressed up for a cops and robbers masquerade.

If Dawson were to have seen that same picture flash across the screen in a movie theatre he would have fallen out of his seat with laughter. But there was no laughter on his lips now. Not even in the back of his thoughts. Not one single giggle, for each pair of those eyes fixed upon him were not the eyes of a street urchin, but of an inhuman savage who would gladly carve him to shreds for the sheer joy of it all. No, there was no laughter in Dawson, or Freddy Farmer, as the big Jap pulled them up to an abrupt halt. Truth to relate, there was only a lot of cold fear, and twice as much worry.

Suddenly to Dave's tensed senses there came a sound akin to that of somebody putting sheets of tin to a buzz saw blade. He jumped inwardly and then realized that the ear-rasping sound was the Jap behind him addressing his commanding officer in their native tongue. Impulsively he looked at the row of Jap figures to make sure his guess as to which was Admiral Sasebo was correct. And it was correct. The little runt in the middle of the row, wearing fewer decorations than any of the others, made movements with his head, as though somebody were working it with strings from behind, and then made some reply in a soft sing-song note.

As the echo of the sounds he made died away, he looked at Dawson and Farmer. And to their dumbfounded belief he smiled broadly, and executed a slight bow.