“Don’t sell yourself short just yet,” Jack said to Ted. “You may see plenty of fighting before this day is over, yes, and find yourself in need of a ‘woman’s gentle nursing,’ as the old poem goes, before the sun sets.”
Zero hour came. The jet plane began its predawn song. Jack and Stew were off.
The fog was gone, and the moon bright. Jack was astonished as he climbed into the sky. As far as he could see there were white dots telling of ships plowing their way through the dark sea.
“More fighting ships than the world has ever seen in one place,” he said to Stew.
“Sure—carriers, probably a dozen of them; big battle wagons, cruisers, destroyers, cargo vessels, transports, oilers, tankers, repair ships, PT boats—everything. We’re going back to the Philippines, boy! And we’re going back to stay.”
After that they soared again. With oxygen masks in place they climbed to the substratosphere, then headed for Mindanao at incredible speed.
“Wonderful!” Jack breathed. “No Zero will ever catch up with us now.”
“And we’d better not let them,” Stew warned. “You remember the orders—no dogfights with those cookies today.”
The first faint streaks of dawn were showing when a gray bulk close to the surface of the sea loomed up ahead of them.
“There!” Jack exclaimed. “Take a good look! It’s the Philippines!”