Dave Dawson on the Russian Front

by Robert Sidney Bowen

Dawson started to nod and echo that very truthful surmise, but at that moment he heard one of the mechanics shout something, and his heart started pounding furiously against his ribs. He didn't catch the words, but he didn't have to. Actions told him all he needed to know. The actions of the four mechanics who promptly quit work, and went walking over toward the base of the squat, flat-topped hill. A moment or two later Dawson and Freddy Farmer witnessed for the second time in an hour a bit of Nazi-made ingenuity. For the second time in an hour, they witnessed what Senior Lieutenant Nasha Petrovski had told them about.

In short, they watched the four mechanics walk to the base of the hill, watched a section of "hill" swing outward and upward a little way, and the four mechanics walk into the hill, and then saw the camouflage screening drop back into place again. A sudden and quite insane desire to have a look at all that was inside that hill surged through Dawson. But, naturally, he killed the urge even as it was born, and simply promised himself that if he lived through the war, he would come back for a real inspection of this spot after it was all over.

"Well, don't look right now," he breathed softly, and pushed up onto his hands and knees, "but I think it's time for us to part company for a spell. Freddy, old pal, you hop for that first crate, and I'll hop for the one right next to it. Meet you in the air, kid. And don't wait to ask permission to take off, see? You won't get it!"

"Not likely!" the English-born air ace grinned back at him, tight-lipped. "And keep your mind on your own knitting, old thing. A One-Nine is a bit of all right, but a tricky beggar, you know."

"Yeah, I once read that in a book!" Dave growled. Then, throwing Farmer a wink, "This is it, pal. And don't spare the horses!"

And that was that. No handclasp, and no last words of planning. There was no need for either. Each knew exactly how the other felt. And each knew exactly what the other planned to do, and would do—unless Death stopped him.

And so, like a couple of bolts of lightning ripping out from the center of a thunderhead, the two boys ripped up out from under the sheltering bushes, and went streaking straight across sixty yards of open ground. To anybody watching them it must have seemed that their feet didn't even touch the ground; that they were just a couple of cannon shells en route. And as Dave reached the side of the cockpit of his Messerschmitt One-Nine, it became instantly evident that somebody had been watching them, or at least had suddenly spotted Freddy and himself, because there was the sound of a muffled shout of wild alarm, followed almost instantly by the heart-chilling chatter of a machine gun. However, Dave didn't hear the whine of bullets, and he didn't bother to wait to see if a second burst would come closer. His feet just up and left the ground, and he practically shot down through the cockpit hatch opening to the seat.

Even as he landed, hard, his hands were in furious motion. In what was little more than the continuation of a single movement he whipped up the ignition switch, snapped on the booster magneto, and punched the starter button as he rammed the throttle open. One—two—three horrible seconds dragged by, and then the Daimler-Benz engine in the nose caught in a mighty thunder of sound. And as it did so he kicked off the wheel brakes and opened the throttle wide, breathing a prayer of gratitude to the four mechanics for having tested the engine and thus warmed it up for him.

Like a race horse leaving the barrier, Dawson's Messerschmitt went streaking out from under the cover of overhanging branches and down the flat strip of valley. Out the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Freddy Farmer also in motion in the other plane. A song of joy burst out in his heart, and he impulsively lifted a hand in a derisive gesture at the machine guns yammering savagely behind him.

"Didn't realize you were guarding the wrong aircraft, did you, tramps?" he shouted aloud, and pulled the Messerschmitt clear of the ground. "Well, now, isn't that just too bad! But we'll wait for you, if you want, hey, Freddy, old kid?"