“Good girl!” Jimmie said. “That will get you a medal.”
“I don’t want a medal,” was Gale’s quick reply. “Show me Tokio. That’s all I ask.”
In half an hour her request was granted. They came out of a cloud to see a great city bathed in bright sunshine. Smoke rolled from factories making airplanes, tanks and guns for destroying American boys. Trains sped away with their loads of hate. All the city was busy and perhaps happy. Who knows?
“That,” said Jimmie, “is Tokio and yonder is our target.” He nodded toward an airfield where a hundred planes resting on the runways tossed back the sun-light.
“Beautiful! Glorious! Great stuff!” he exclaimed as he set his big ship roaring over the field.
At just the right second bombs began to drop. “One, two, three, four, five,”—Gale found herself counting as they fell among the Jap bombers and exploded with such force that whole planes were blown into the sky to explode there like rockets.
“Get ready!” Jimmie warned his gunners, “here come the Jap fighters.”
As the gunners stiffened at their posts Gale took up a post that would permit her to replace any man in the body of the ship who fell.
A Zero plane came in so close that she saw the leer on the pilot’s face. Receiving a burst of fire, he faded from her sight. But on they came,—one—two—three—four, a whole squadron wheeled into view.
Cannons roared, machineguns rattled. The din was a terrible thing to hear. Little planes went whirling down, but still they came.