CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dead Wings
For another fifteen minutes Dawson stuck to the course he was flying and battled desperately with the problem of which of the two bad choices he should make. One moment he was in favor of leading the Zeros as close to Jackson's approximate position as he dared, and then jumping them and shooting them down. But in the next moment he would tell himself that that was like hoping for the moon on a silver platter. And what's more, it was a completely nutty idea for the very reason that neither Freddy nor he knew the exact location of Jackson's force. They could only figure out approximately where it was. For that reason they might well stumble on it by accident and the Japs sight it just as clearly as they did. And if that should happen, and he should wheel around to shoot them down, they could indeed give him the horse laugh. They had only to bank around and open their throttles wide, and the MK-11 would never catch them in a hundred years.
And so, with that decided, he would promptly consider the second bad choice. That of leading the Zeros in a direction that wouldn't even come close to the Yank aircraft carrier task force, and then sitting down in the water when the fuel was used up. As a matter of fact, the Zeros would be out of fuel long before then. So maybe the choice of leading the Zeros on a crazy wild goose chase out across the vast reaches of the Southwest Pacific was a good one to make.
"But, doggone it, no!" Dawson argued with himself. "Freddy and I knew something that can mean plenty to Colonel Welsh and Admiral Jackson. And to the forces attacking Guadalcanal, too. We've just got to get that information through, somehow. And that's all there is to it, darn it!"
Yes, that's all there was to it, darn it! Except for the one ever tantalizing word. The word how. How to shake off the trailing Jap Zeros? How to find Jackson's task force, wherever it was? How to do this? And how to do that? Dawson groaned in bitter anguish and pressed one clenched fist against his forehead, as though in so doing he might force open some little door in his brain, and find out all the correct answers. It didn't work out that way, however. And then, eventually, he felt Freddy Farmer tapping him on the shoulder and heard his pal's voice in his ear.
"I say, Dave, old thing, I just thought of something. Maybe we can go these beggars one better, in spite of them, and come out on top, you know."
Dawson twisted around in the seat, and made a little impatient gesture.
"Then for cat's sake spill it!" he cried. "I've thought my brain ragged, but no soap. Have you really figured up an idea? Shoot it to me quick, pal."
"It's a wild chance, Dave, but I think we've got to take it," the English youth began. "First place, we can't lead these Zeros to Jackson's force. Also, we just can't lead them any old place until we run out of fuel. That would simply be the end of us, and Admiral Jackson would be none the wiser, see?"