“Sure have, same kind of a plane,” said Ted.
“Good. Then you’re on,” Kentucky agreed.
“We’ll be in the vicinity of the island by midnight,” said the Commander. “Have your planes in position ready to take off at a moment’s notice. Two destroyers will move in close far ahead of us. If Jap planes take off they will notify us. You won’t forget the soldiers crowded on those transports? Transports are vulnerable.”
“We won’t forget, sir.” There was a look of determination on Kentucky’s lean face as he left the chart room.
It was an hour after midnight when word came from the radio cabin that twelve night torpedo bombers had left the shore of the Jap-held island.
At once there was hurried, excited action, but no confusion. The four night fighter planes were warmed up. The fliers took their places, tested their guns, studied their instruments, then settled back.
Besides Kentucky and Ted, there were Red Garber and Blackie Dawson. The ship carried no better fighters than these.
“Remember, fellows,” Kentucky called just before they parted, “the thing to do is to rip right in and get them confused. That way they’ll think there are a lot of us.”
“And they’ll start shooting one another up,” Red laughed.
One by one they cleared the deck to soar away into the night.