CONTENTS
| CHAPTER | PAGE | |
| [I] | JUNK WINGS | 11 |
| [II] | BLITZ SCARS | 26 |
| [III] | THE DEAD CAN'T BREATHE | 37 |
| [IV] | HERR BARON NO FACE | 52 |
| [V] | SATAN'S PAWNS | 65 |
| [VI] | WHEN ENGLAND STOOD ALONE! | 75 |
| [VII] | UNCLE SAM STEPS IN | 91 |
| [VIII] | SIXTEEN KHOLERSTRASSE | 108 |
| [IX] | EAGLES TAKE-OFF | 124 |
| [X] | NO MAN'S SKY | 135 |
| [XI] | WINGED FURY | 146 |
| [XII] | WAR'S FLOTSAM | 156 |
| [XIII] | THE BLANK WALL | 168 |
| [XIV] | SINISTER SILENCE | 183 |
| [XV] | THE LIVING DEAD | 197 |
| [XVI] | WE WHO MUST DIE | 214 |
| [XVII] | SATAN'S WINGS | 226 |
| [XVIII] | SOMETHING FOR HITLER | 237 |
DAVE DAWSON WITH THE EIGHTH AIR FORCE
[CHAPTER ONE]
Junk Wings
With one eye on the instrument board, and the other on the lookout for other planes in that area of cloud-filled sky over England, Dave Dawson hauled the Lockheed Lightning around to the left at a fast clip, and then deliberately pulled the nose straight up, and let the fighter plane take the bit in its teeth until it stalled. It did just that eventually, and at practically the same time the starboard Allison engine sputtered badly and started to throw black smoke.
"What gives with this heap of junk, anyway?" Dawson grunted, and eased off the throttles as the Lightning fell off the stall and went whanging down in a dive to pick up flying speed. "Talk about your cranky crates! This baby is certainly something. Or maybe it's me. Let's try it again and see."
Once more he hauled the ship to the left, and then pointed the nose toward Heaven. The fighter aircraft power climbed to the stalling point, and then the starboard engine repeated its little performance. It sputtered and started to throw smoke. And just to make it unanimous, the port engine started doing the same thing.
"Well, that's that!" Dawson said with a nod for emphasis, and eased back the throttles again. "Maybe this is a very fine airplane, but I sure don't want any part of it. No, not even for a joy hop."