Dave Dawson with the Pacific Fleet

by Robert Sidney Bowen

The smoke belching surface craft had come up over the northern horizon into full view. It was a man of war, a heavy cruiser, and Dave did not need a second look to recognize it as a Japanese cruiser. But that was not what caused his heart to zoom up his throat and lock the air in his lungs. Right behind the cruiser was another of the same class. Both ships were slamming along through the water, and even as Dave stared at them they changed course and veered around to the south.

On they came at top speed, and for a crazy instant Dave thought they had sighted his Devastator and were steaming southward to blast him out of the air with anti-aircraft fire. It was, of course, an absolutely crazy idea, and it was gone almost as it was born. And then an inkling of the truth cut through his brain. Cold chills rippled down his spine, and the inside of his mouth went bone dry. He impulsively glanced at his radio panel, and gave a savage nod of his head.

"That must be it!" he grated through clenched teeth. "The rats in that other Devastator did use their radio! They must have sent out the Indian's position, and those cruisers heard it. Now they're racing south to get the Indian under cover of darkness. That's it, sure as shooting. The rats figure that if they can't deliver the stolen plans of the battle operation in time, they can at least do some damage. Yeah! Give away the Indian's position and have her blown out of the water with her planes helpless in the dark. Good grief! Why are such vermin ever born?"

Dave didn't add anything to that. He didn't because there was even more pressing business at hand. During the precious seconds he had gazed pop-eyed at the two onrushing Japanese cruisers, the pilot of the other Devastator had taken full advantage of the opportunity offered. He had brought his plane wing screaming up and around, and was tearing in at Dave and Freddy from the side. As a matter of fact, it was the savage yammer of the English youth's guns that snapped Dave out of his trance. He jerked his head around, felt a tiny sting on one cheek, and saw a section of the right side of his glass hatch seem to melt away into nothing. Had he not turned his face just at that moment, he probably would have lost a good part of his jaw.

He didn't take time out to pat himself on the back for being so fortunate. Fact is, he didn't take time out to do anything but concentrate on slamming and booting the Devastator out of range of that withering blast of fire. The instant he was in the clear he whipped out his free hand to the release toggle that would drop the deadly torpedo slung in the rack under the plane's belly. Even as his fingers touched it he jerked his hand away and shook his head. No, he had to save that steel fish until later. Freddy and he would have to risk having it exploded by the fire from the other plane. And that went for the Devastator's wing bombs, too. Freddy and he would need those in the big battle to come, the battle against two heavy Jap cruisers.

"We've got to get the blighter in a hurry, Dave!" Freddy's voice of confirmation suddenly cut his thoughts. "We've got to get him and not let either of those cruisers pick him up—pick them up. If they do, everything is lost, Dave. They're bound to have those stolen plans of battle operations with them, or at least stamped in their heads. If they once get aboard either of those cruisers, everything will become a terrible mess. It mustn't happen, Dave!"

"You're telling me?" Dave roared, and hauled the Devastator around in a dime turn that virtually made the wings groan in protest, and the threatening wave of a blackout rise up before his eyes. "You're doggone right we can't let them make contact. Hang on, Freddy! And let go with your guns the instant you get the chance. I'm going to charge them. It's either them or us, Freddy!"

"All set!" the English youth howled back. "Let her rip, and blast their dirty hearts!"

For a couple of split seconds Dave held the Devastator in its tight turn, and kept his eyes glued on the other plane. It was banking around to get underneath him and come thundering up for an all gun blast at the belly of his plane. So he deliberately held his Devastator in the tight turn until he saw the nose of the other ship start to come up. The instant it started up, Dave slammed farther over on wing, kicked rudder hard and dropped the nose down to the vertical.

Like a battle grey streak of lightning, Dave's plane rocketed downward. He leaned far forward, straining against his safety harness, and kept his mouth open to relieve the pressure in his pounding ears. It was as though a thousand fingers of steel were curled about his insides and striving to rip and tear in all directions at the same time. White balls of fire leaped and bounced around in his brain as the Devastator went down at a terrific rate of speed. It was agony to try to breathe, for the walls of his lungs seemed pressed flat against each other.