The moments that followed will live long in Gale’s memory. Swarms of American flyers filled the sky. To her this was no mystery. To the enemy pilots it all must have seemed a feat of magic.
From the direction they had been taking, it seemed evident to Gale that the enemy bombers had not been bound for the secret forest but for the crowded city far beyond. Whatever their destination may have been, they were at once driven off their course and when the battle began in earnest though still some distance away, they were directly in front of her lookout.
“Golly!” Jan exclaimed, dancing about. “It’s just like they were putting on a show for our benefit!”
Gale did not reply. She was busy, but not with her instrument—her task for that day was done—the enemy did not now need to be spotted—he was here.
With her powerful binoculars she was sweeping the sky looking for just one plane. She would know it when she saw it. It was the smallest, fastest U. S. plane of them all. It had a sharp nose, and long, slender wings like those of a nightingale. “And a Nightingale flies it,” she thought, “—Jimmie Nightingale.”
Truth is she did not wish to find it there in the sky. She had hoped Jimmie was far away on some other mission, for this would be a fearful battle. The enemy bombers were heavily armed and had a powerful fighter escort.
Just when she was hoping that she had seen all the planes and could assure herself that Jimmie was not there, a very small fighter plane with narrow wings came out from behind some enemy bombers.
“Jimmie!” she exclaimed. “There he is! Oh, Jimmie!”
“Where? Where is he?” Jan exclaimed.
“Just in front of those four bombers over to the left,” Gale pointed him out.