It had been a truly great day. The men below decks were happy and hilarious. But the trio on the flight deck, Kentucky, Blackie and Red, were for the most part silent. Ted was gone. No one knew when he would be seen again, if ever.
Jean, too, was gone. He had somehow been lost from his formation. Kentucky had heard him say, “I am being attacked by a superior force. Notify my nearest of kin.”
Had Jean been joking? There was no way to know. Men did joke in the midst of battle. That was the one way of keeping your nerves steady.
Kentucky did not believe that Jean had been joking. He had scant hope of ever seeing him again.
But Ted—that was different. Kentucky believed that Ted had made a safe landing on the water.
“The course we are taking,” he said soberly, “should bring us in about two hours over the spot where Ted went down. I’m going to ask for permission to make a search.”
“At night?” Blackie voiced his astonishment.
“Sure! Why not?” Kentucky’s tone was confident. “Ted’s smart. He’ll know the sound of our planes and he’ll find something to use as a flare. If he’s there and I get near the spot, I’ll bring him in.”
“I’m with you,” said Red.
“Count me in.” Blackie made it three.