As the others gathered around the flight leader unwrapped it, then handed it to Dave. It was the tail of a Messerschmitt. On it had been painted two letters, H. W. Below these letters were 56 long, black lines.
“This,” said Dave, “should be yours.” He gave it back to the young Lord. “All trophies belong to the leader of the flight.”
“To the entire squadron,” the young Lord replied huskily. “Come. We’ll put it up where all may see.” He placed it on the mantle. “Not that we need to boast,” he said quietly, “but that all men may know that the Sky Over England is England’s alone.”
Chapter XXIV
Searchers of the Sea
Next morning the squadron commander received a strange request. Young Lord Applegate walked into his quarters, saluted, then said:
“Commander, I wish to ask for a transfer.”
“A transfer?” The Commander sat forward in his chair. “Why? You are doing magnificently. Only yesterday—”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Applegate broke in, “that has no bearing on the case. I ask for a transfer to the bomber service that patrols the sea. I was trained for that work, had a full year’s training. That should be enough.”
“But you are a born fighter.”
“Perhaps,” the young Lord admitted. “And perhaps too one may fight with a twin-motored bomber.”