_Dave's Plan_
Had a Nazi Stuka come plowing down through the Squadron Office roof and
lighted on Markham's desk the stunned amazement of the others would
not have been any greater. Freddy gulped and looked actually scared
stiff. Markham, Group Captain Ball, and Colonel Trevor sat up a bit in
their chairs and gaped pop-eyed at each other. It was the Air Ministry
official who first found his tongue.
"Well, bless me, rather!" he breathed. "In my time I've been told a
thing or two right to my face, but.... Well, I must say, Dawson, that
once you get started you get right to the point. So my plan is a bit of
a wash-out in your mind, eh?"
At that moment Dave would have given a lot if a great big hole had
opened up in the floor so that he could jump into it and disappear
completely. However, no hole opened up, and so he stuck to his guns.
"Yes, sir," he said doggedly. "I know I'm speaking out of turn, but you
asked me, sir. So I gave you a truthful answer."
"The truth is always welcomed, of course," Group Captain Ball said a
bit stiffly. "Supposing, though, instead of wasting time defending
yourself, you explain why there would be no sense in carrying out such
a stupid mission?"
"Just a minute!" Dave said as his cheeks got hot. "I didn't say the
mission was stupid, sir. I didn't say, either, that carrying it out
would be a waste of time. I meant that carrying it out _as planned_
would be a waste of time, in my opinion."
"Why?"
It was Colonel Trevor who shot out the single word. He had leaned
farther forward in his chair, and was regarding Dave not out of hostile
eyes, but out of eyes that showed frank curiosity, and an earnest
desire to learn the truth.
"Because of what's already happened, Colonel," Dave replied. "Look at
it this way. Countless photo patrols were made over the terrain of
Zone K Dash Twenty-Four. Each time Jerry planes were encountered and
there was a scramble or two. At first the pictures didn't show anything
of interest. Then suddenly they showed a lot of crazy changes in a
certain area. Finally, the pictures gave every indication that that
certain area had been completely evacuated. And lastly, a photo flight
that went over at night failed to return. You follow me, sir?"
"Yes," the Intelligence officer grunted. "But you're only giving a case
history of what's happened. We know all about that."
"Why did it happen?" Dave shot right back at him. "If you want my
opinion I think it's because the Nazis _knew all the time_ what we were
up to. They saw our bombers upstairs, but no eggs were dropped. They
saw our bombers circling around over the area day after day, and still
no bombs came down. The Jerry fighter pilots tangled with our fighters,
and the photo ships still stuck to their job. What in the world do you
think the Nazis on the ground were imagining? That we were practicing
formation flying or something? The heck they did! They knew darn well
that we were taking pictures, and more pictures. And not being exactly
dumb, they did the logical thing!"
The ghost of a smile quivered at the corners of Colonel Trevor's mouth.
Even Markham and Group Captain Ball were having trouble keeping a
straight face. The straight from the shoulder honesty of the young
Yank was not exactly an every day occurrence in British Army life, and
they were a bit more amused than they were shocked.
"And what was the logical thing for the Nazis to do?" the Intelligence
officer eventually asked quietly.
"Kid us along, of course!" Dave cried, warming up to his subject. "Pull
the old razzle-dazzle on us, so that we wouldn't know where we were
from a three dollar hat. Don't you get me?"
"I was quite a while in the States," Colonel Trevor said with a
chuckle, "but I'm afraid I didn't quite pick up all of your American
slang expressions. What do you mean by what you've just said, Dawson?"
Dave grinned, and blushed slightly.
"Sorry, sir," he said. "I sort of shoved into high gear without
realizing it. I mean, I ... well, anyway, I'm sure Jerry knew what
we were up to all the time, so he purposely made things all the more
confusing. Matter of fact, I wouldn't be at all surprised but what he
kidded us along step by step hoping that we would send over that night
patrol."
"What?" Group Captain Ball exploded in a loud voice. "Led us along?
What in the world do you mean by that? I think you've gone balmy, my
lad. Of all the rot!"
"Maybe so, sir," Dave said evenly and held up two fingers. "But there
are two things _we_ don't know. One, what the new Nazi secret weapon
is all about. And, two, what happened to that night picture patrol.
Correct, sir?"
"Unfortunately, yes," the other grunted backing down a little. "But
what's that got to do with what the Nazis did? I mean, all this kidding
along, as you express it."
"You're pinning me down kind of tight, sir," Dave said with a half
grin. "That part is just a hunch that sticks in my craw. I mean, I've
got the hunch that there was one thing the _Nazis didn't know_. For
certain, I mean."
Group Captain Ball groaned and threw up his hands.
"My word!" he cried. "More blasted riddles! Come to the point, Dawson.
What in the world _do_ you mean?"
Dave hesitated a moment and then gave it to them straight.
"The new Nazi secret weapon," he said. "The Jerries were not certain
how successful it would be against an air invasion. So they _tried it
out_!"
As Dave's echo faded away into silence not a man uttered a sound. Not
a man hardly so much as breathed. The exploding verbal bomb shell had
driven home a possible truth that not one of them had even so much as
considered. Not even so much as suspected of existence.
"By George!" Group Captain Ball finally breathed in an awed tone. "The
chap has hit upon something. No doubt about it at all. It's quite
possible, this hunch of his. Quite, indeed. The blasted Nazis have been
playing games with me to serve their own purpose. Dawson! I apologize
for being a bit rude awhile back. You're quite right. I'm afraid we
have been wasting our time. And would waste more to make another photo
patrol. Blast it, though, we just can't sit back and twiddle our
thumbs."
"Perhaps you've got an answer to that one, Dawson?" Colonel Trevor
asked.
Dave didn't reply at once. He pursed his lips and stared thoughtfully
off into space.
"The original patrols weren't entirely a waste of time," he said
presently. "I mean, if for no other reason than the fact we learned
that something very mysterious is going on in the area over which the
photo patrol was lost. We can be pretty sure there's something there
that needs further investigation."
Dave held up a hand as Group Captain Ball scowled and opened his mouth
to interrupt.
"Just a minute, please, sir," he shut off the high ranker. "I know
what you're going to say. Get along with it! Okay. Here it is. A night
patrol, such as the last, is out. Too much of a risk. A day patrol of
bomber-photo ships and escort planes is out, too. Sight of us in the
sky would simply tell Jerry that we were still ... well, suckers for
punishment. _But_ two or three _fighter planes_ passing over probably
wouldn't create any interest at all. And certainly no suspicions. And
if there happened to be a couple of Jerry planes in the air to scramble
with, then so much the better. Or isn't that clear?"
"As mud!" Group Captain Ball said with a sad shake of his head. "You'd
better not ever run for Parliament, Dawson. You'd befuddle the issue.
Your colleagues wouldn't know what in the world you were talking about,
I'm afraid."
"Then that makes me a swell bet for Congress," Dave grinned.
"Seriously, though, sir. Three Spitfires fitted with special cameras
could slide over the mystery area and look like they were just passing
by. Now, if Jerry fighter planes came up, we could scramble with them,
and a couple of us could act like we were going down. Shot down, or
the engine quitting, and a forced landing necessary. We could even
fake engine trouble without Jerry planes being around. The point is,
though, a couple of us could get real low down and snap pictures that
would bring out a lot of stuff that the camera wouldn't catch at high
altitude. Also, in fighter planes we could cover a whole lot more
ground than the slower bomber jobs. But the main thing is, the Nazis
wouldn't be wise to what we were doing."
Group Captain Ball expelled air through pursed lips, and gave a little
half shake of his head.
"What blasted use I am at Air Ministry, I jolly well don't know!" he
exclaimed. "I think you and I should swap jobs, Dawson. Only I'd be a
frightful wash-out at yours. You're absolutely correct, though. You've
hit upon the only way possible to get a good look at what's going on
over in that cursed Zone. Right, Colonel? Right, Markham?"
"Seems that way to me," the Intelligence officer said slowly. "Dawson
has at least convinced me that our original plan is no good at all.
And the only alternative that seems any good, is his plan."
"I knew it wouldn't be long before Dawson and Farmer were off again on
some special mission," Squadron Leader Markham grunted. "But he's quite
right. His plan's the best bet. Only one thing I hope doesn't happen,
though. Two things, matter of fact."
"Eh?" Group Captain Ball murmured.
"One that they don't run into a couple of squadrons of Jerry planes,"
Markham said. "And really _get_ shot down. And two, that this blasted
secret weapon doesn't work in the day time. But one can't be sure of
everything, I suppose."
"No, of course not," Group Captain Ball said with a shrug. Then turning
to Dave, "Well, naturally, you're elected for one of the trio. Who
else? Farmer for one?"
The eager look on Freddy's face was too much for Dave to let slide. He
scowled dubiously, and rubbed his chin in mock deliberation.
"Why, yes, I guess so," he said finally. "That is, if he promises not
to go off on any little night flying jaunts."
They all laughed. Freddy with them. But the look he flashed at Dave
clearly said, "Wait 'til I get you alone, my friend. Just wait!"
"Well, who else?" Markham asked the question.
"I'd like the third one to be Flight Lieutenant Barker, sir," Dave
said. "He's tops as a pilot in my opinion. And he can shoot rings
around anybody I ever saw in the air, with maybe the possible exception
of Farmer, here."
"And yourself, Dawson," Markham added with a smile. "Right you are,
then. You, Farmer, and Barker. You take command, and...."
"That's something I wanted to speak about, sir," Dave interrupted
hastily. "I happened to think up the idea, but that doesn't rate my
being placed in charge of the show. After all, Barker has had more
R.A.F. experience than either Freddy or I. He's been in it from the
very start. Then, too, sir, the matter of rank. Barker is a Flight
Lieutenant, and as such...."
"So are you and Farmer!" Group Captain Ball cut in.
Dave's jaw dropped, and his eyes popped.
"Come again?" he blurted out. "What was that you just said?"
The Air Ministry official chuckled and pulled some papers from his
inside tunic pocket.
"That you and Farmer _are_ Flight Lieutenants, too," he said, and
tossed the papers on Markham's desk. "That's the surprise I was about
to mention awhile back. In recognition of your services on that convoy
patrol job, Air Ministry has promoted you both to the rank of Flight
Lieutenants. It'll appear officially in the London Gazette tomorrow.
Meantime, there's confirmation for your files, Markham. Well, Dawson,
and Farmer, let me be the first to congratulate you. It's a promotion
well earned, and doubly deserved."[B]
[Footnote B: _Dave Dawson on Convoy Patrol._]
For the next couple of minutes neither Dave nor Freddy had any idea
what they were doing. They were completely swallowed up in a beautiful
rosy cloud, and their little world was the nicest thing ever created.
"And so, you don't need to feel any qualms about difference in rank,
Dawson," Group Captain Ball's voice finally brought Dave's feet back on
earth. "Strictly speaking, he still is your senior, but I'm placing you
in command of this mission. And that's that. Now, of course your Mark
Fives can't be fitted with cameras in time for you to make the patrol
today. But do you think you could be ready by dawn?"
"Yes, sir," Dave answered promptly. "And.... Well, there's one more
suggestion, if it ... if it won't drive you crazy, sir."
"I think I can stand just about one more," the Adastral House official
said with a faint grin. "Shoot, as you Yanks term it!"
"I think it might be a good idea for a flight of bomber planes to be
sent over the area before we arrive," Dave said. "Not right over the
area. Have them pass over well south, as though they were headed for
some objective farther inland. Then when we appear later Jerry will
think that we're just tootling over to meet the bombers and escort them
back home. So maybe they won't give us a second glance."
"Right," Group Captain Ball said. "I'll arrange with Bomber Command to
do just that. Now, any more suggestions, eh?"
"I guess not, sir," Dave said with a chuckle.
"Then let's all have a spot of tea, or something," the Air Ministry
official said, getting to his feet. "We can talk things over again
later. Meantime I'm parched, and hungry as a wolf."
Dave shot a glance at Freddy Farmer and saw instantly that his English
pal was five hundred per cent in favor of the Group Captain's idea.