_Lightning Wings_
IN DUE TIME the ferry bomber flight circled the Air Base at Brownsville,
and then dropped down one by one to land and trundle over to the hangar
line to be taken over by the mechanics. The Fortress in which Dave and
Freddy were passengers dropped down first. A crowd of officers and
mechanics gathered about it instantly, for Major Hawks had radioed
ahead. When Dave and Freddy climbed down they were the center of all
eyes. It was obvious that Major Hawks had made more than just a cut and
dried report.
No sooner were their feet on the ground than Colonel Bates, Commandant
of the Base, stepped over to Dawson and saluted smartly.
“Congratulations, and thank you, Captain Dawson,” he said, and smiled.
“Major Hawks gave me a full report, and--well, the whole Air Corps is
grateful. That was a fine display of courage.”
“Thank you, sir,” Dave replied, blushing a little. “But as I told Major
Hawks, my efforts would have been a waste of time if it hadn’t been for
Lieutenant Kelley and Captain Farmer. They deserve as much praise as I
do, and considerably more, I guess.”
“Well, it was a darn good job by everyone concerned,” the Base
Commandant responded. “We surely can’t afford to lose a single ship
through accident. And, by the way, just what caused the accident,
anyway? You didn’t say in your radio report.”
Colonel Bates turned and spoke the last to Major Hawks, who had climbed
down out of the Flying Fortress. The big bomber’s commander held out the
flame-blackened length of pipe for the Colonel to see.
“This, sir,” he said. “Captain Farmer says it’s part of a melted pencil
incendiary. I think he’s right. Looks like somebody didn’t want us to
arrive here in one piece. I ordered the others to search their ships.
They did, but didn’t find anything.”
“An acid bomb!” Colonel Bates breathed fiercely and bent over to inspect
the short length of small pipe in Major Hawks’ hands. “Well, by George!
What do you know about that? The war right in our laps! I guess they
picked on just one ship, Major, so’s we’d think it was a short circuit,
or something. Why, the black-hearted skunks. I wonder when it was put
there?”
“It must have been at Albuquerque, sir,” Lieutenant Kelley spoke up. “It
wasn’t there when we took off from Seattle. And Albuquerque was our next
stop.”
“Well, I’ll make a report to Intelligence about this!” Colonel Bates
said grimly. Then, smiling at Dawson, “But I guess you want to clean up
a bit, don’t you, Captain? Your little adventure sort of mussed up your
uniform a bit. And yours, too, Farmer. We’ll hunt up something for you
to wear while the field cleaners fix up your uniforms. And is there
anything else I can do for you, to show how grateful I am for your job?”
“Thanks, sir,” Dave said. “Farmer missed his lunch on account of the
fire, so I know he’s starved. He has six meals a day, sir, you know.
Doctor’s orders, I think he once said. But, seriously, I guess we all
could do with a bite, if it wouldn’t be much trouble. And later--later,
could Farmer and I have a word with you?”
“All the words you want, Captain,” Colonel Bates said lightly, but shot
Dave a keen stare. “First, though, a little food all around. And if you
can stand a Base Commandant eating with you, I think I’ll join the
party. It’s for all the bomber crews, of course, Major Hawks.”
“I accept for all of them, Colonel,” Major Hawks said with a laugh.
“Even if the others ate en route, it wasn’t more than just a light
lunch. Thank you very much, sir.”
A little over an hour later the ferry bomber crews and their two
distinguished passengers had eaten their fill. Inwardly Dave breathed a
great sigh of relief when Colonel Bates pushed back his chair and stood
up. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed eating with the pilots and bomber crews.
It was simply that he and Freddy were the two heroes of the day, and the
other bomber members made them repeat their stories over and over again.
Of course that led to much talk about sabotage, and how the pencil
incendiary had gotten in there in the first place? And particularly who
could have done it?
Dave didn’t have a correct answer to the last, of course. But both
Freddy and he certainly knew why. And to sit there and shake their heads
and look as puzzled as the next man was the kind of an ordeal they
didn’t want to go through every day, or every week, or month, for that
matter.
Finally, though, Colonel Bates signalled that the meal was at an end by
pushing back his chair and standing up. He glanced down the table at
Freddy and Dave.
“And, now,” he said, “you two want to chat with me? Let’s get along to
my office. Excuse us, Gentlemen.”
Everybody else rose and stood at attention while the Base Commandant led
Dave and Freddy out of the mess. He went through the outer door and
across one corner of the field toward his office. As he kept step with
the senior officer Dave took a quick look at the planes lined up on the
field. When he spotted a couple of Vultees a happy smile flitted across
his lips. Freddy saw the sudden smile but didn’t say anything. He simply
gave Dave a half angry frown and walked along.
When they were inside his office, Colonel Bates dropped into his desk
chair, and waved a hand at a couple of other chairs.
“Sit down, you two,” he said. Then, giving Dave a keen look, he added,
“I suppose it’s about that pencil incendiary business, isn’t it? I’ve
had the feeling there was more you could tell me about it. Well, go
ahead, because my curiosity is getting more altitude with every second.”
Dave hesitated, looked at Freddy for a moment, and thought he read
complete agreement in his pal’s eyes.
“Well, there isn’t much else we really can tell you, sir,” he said.
“Except that the thing was unquestionably slipped aboard at Albuquerque.
It was, of course, after the bombers had been there awhile, and Farmer
and I had been assigned to Major Hawks’ plane.”
“I see,” Colonel Bates said quietly, when Dave paused for breath. “Go
on. You have an idea who did it? And of course, you know _why_, don’t
you?”
“I don’t know who, and neither does Farmer, sir,” Dave replied. “But we
do know why. Frankly, it was to stop us from arriving here. Because of
the request I wish to make, sir, I think Farmer and I should admit to
you that we are on an Intelligence job. The details, of course, we can’t
reveal. But--well, things are getting just a bit too hot for comfort,
and--”
Dave hesitated and shot a quick side glance at Freddy. But the English
youth wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at the opposite wall, and
his youthful face was a complete blank.
“And what, Dawson?” Colonel Bates encouraged. “Let’s have it.”
“I would like to borrow one of your Vultees out there for a return
flight to Albuquerque,” Dave finally said. “If you wish authority for
the request, sir, you can radio Colonel Welsh at the Frisco Air Base.”
“I don’t need to radio Colonel Welsh,” Colonel Bates said with a faint
smile. “You see--I’ve already received my orders, while you were in the
air on the way down from Albuquerque. Oh, don’t look so alarmed, Dawson.
My orders were simply to grant any request you put to me. On my honor, I
haven’t the faintest idea why you are--were on your way to the Canal
Zone by ferry bomber. But, well--well, you two have a bit of a
reputation, you know.”
“Only too well, sir,” Dave said with a groan. “Maybe we’ve served our
usefulness in Intelligence work! We don’t seem to be recognized any more
than Santa Claus would be. Maybe we’d better wear false beards and wigs,
or something.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say it was as bad as that yet,” the Base Commandant said
with a laugh. “I wouldn’t say that anybody here at the Base connects
your arrival here with Intelligence work. It’s simply that when I
received Colonel Welsh’s code message I put two and two together, and
got four. So you want to return to Albuquerque, huh?”
“Yes, sir,” Dave said, and ignored the searching gaze Freddy Farmer was
now giving him. “Not right at this minute, of course. An hour or two
before midnight, tonight, will be plenty of time. But we do wish to
return.”
“Naturally your wish must be granted,” the senior officer said, and
grinned. “I don’t suppose you could give me a reason, eh? Something
happened en route that gave you ideas about Albuquerque?”
Dave grinned at him, and nodded.
“Something did happen en route, sir,” he said. “That pencil incendiary
fire. And it did give me ideas. I’m sorry, sir, but that’s as far as I’d
care to go.”
“Then it’ll have to be far enough for me, I guess,” the Base Commandant
said with a sigh of disappointment. “A little before midnight, eh? Okay,
then. The Vultee will be all gassed and ready for you then. One more
question, though--that is, if you’d care to answer it. Was this the
first attempt made on your lives?”
“It was the third,” Dave said quietly. Then he added, “And I’m hoping
there won’t be a fourth before we leave.”
Colonel Bates’ eyes popped, and he whistled softly.
“The _third_?” he echoed in amazement. “Well, that shows that the third
time isn’t a sure thing, as the saying goes. And as regards there being
a fourth time here at Brownsville--”
The Base Commandant paused. A thin smile touched his lips, but his eyes
were as hard and cold as chiseled ice.
“Then they’ll get me, too,” he said presently, “whoever they are,
because I’m not going to leave you two for an instant until you’re off
the ground and in the air, and on your way north.”
“Thanks for the protection, sir,” Dave said with a short laugh. “But I
don’t look for, or expect any trouble here. I think our rat friends were
counting on that bomber fire being a sure thing.”
“Quite.” Freddy Farmer nodded for emphasis. “Good grief, how close it
came to being just that! Every time I see a flare locker after this I’m
sure I’ll break out in a sweat. But I agree with Dave, sir. I don’t
think we’ll have any trouble here. I certainly hope not.”
The Base Commandant chuckled and made a little gesture.
“Well, it’s been pretty dead around here,” he said almost wistfully. “I
think we could do with a little excitement, provided, of course, that
nobody on our side gets hurt. But just the same, I’m going to stick
close to you two. How about a look around the field as a starter? We’ve
got some pretty interesting stuff here.”
“I’d like that very much, sir,” Dave said eagerly. “I saw that you have
quite a few of the new types.”
“Yes,” Freddy echoed, his face brightening. “I’d jolly well like to look
around a bit.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Colonel Bates grinned, and got to his
feet. “Let’s go!”
Then began a most pleasant afternoon for the two young air aces. They
saw everything there was to see at the Brownsville Base, and it was all
so terribly interesting that they almost forgot the ever present mystery
menace that hung over them like a dark cloud. But not quite. Every so
often, in a flash of memory, stark reality would return to one or the
other of them, and they would have to try hard not to let it show in
their faces.
Just before evening mess the six ferry bombers took off on the last lap
of their journey to the bomber base in the Canal Zone. Freddy watched
them with a faint sadness in his eyes, and a sort of empty, hollow
feeling inside of him. He constantly shot sneak side glances at Dave,
but there was nothing but a grin and a contented look on Dawson’s face.
Each time Freddy would switch his gaze away, frown, and bite at his
lower lip. Could it be that Dave--? Not once would he let himself finish
the thought. It most certainly wasn’t a question of courage with
Dave--that he was getting the wind up after so many escapes from death,
and in such rapid succession. It was something else, and Freddy wished
to high Heaven that Dave would please break down and let him in on his
secret--if there was a secret.
When the last of the ferry bombers had lost itself in the growing dusk
far to the south, Freddy half turned toward Dave, but didn’t look at
him.
“Don’t you wish we were aboard one of those?” he murmured so nobody else
could hear, “heading down toward the Canal Zone to learn what we can
from Second Lieutenant Marble?”
Dave looked at him, and shrugged.
“Aboard one of those?” he echoed. “Nix! Once is enough for me. Too darn
dangerous. Well, let’s go eat.”
Freddy Farmer’s jaw dropped, and a hurt look flooded into his eyes.
“Dave!” he began, and couldn’t go on.
Dawson just grinned at him, and then suddenly winked.
“Remember your stomach, little boy,” he chuckled a moment later. “It’s a
long ride back to Albuquerque. Let’s go fill it up.”
At mess there was a lot of general talk, but very little of it came from
Colonel Bates’ lips. Dave caught him glancing his way several times, and
there was a look of puzzled disapproval in the Base Commandant’s eyes.
Dave had a pretty fair hunch that the Colonel had heard him make that
crack to Freddy about it being too darn dangerous in bombers. Oh well,
it didn’t matter what anybody thought. Yet, on the contrary, it mattered
a lot. Yes! Just so long as they thought the things he hoped they would
think.
Eventually the time for Dave and Freddy to take off rolled around.
Colonel Bates and a couple of the other officers walked out with them to
where the Vultee was waiting. But when Dave reached it he didn’t climb
up into the pit. Instead he walked deliberately to the _next_ Vultee in
line, and climbed aboard it. Colonel Bates stopped dead in his tracks,
and gaped.
“But this is your plane, Dawson,” he said, and pointed to the first
Vultee.
“I know, sir,” Dave said easily, and motioned to Freddy to leg in back.
“But I suddenly want to take this one. It’s all right, isn’t it, sir?”
The Base Commandant gulped, looked angry for a moment, and then
shrugged.
“I guess it is,” he said. “They’re both all set for flight. Yes, go
ahead and take it, if it makes you feel any better.”
“It does, and thanks, sir,” Dave said, and jabbed the starter button.
After he got the Wright Cyclone kicking over, and throttled down to warm
up revs, he looked at the Base Commandant and smiled again. “Thanks for
everything, sir!” he called out. “Is there anything I can do at
Albuquerque for you?”
“Nothing that I can think of,” Colonel Bates replied dryly. “Just tell
them we can handle all the ferry planes they send along. And we hope
they’ll send along a lot.”
“I’ll tell them that, sir,” Dave said. Then, twisting around in the pit,
he called out, “All set, Freddy? All strapped in, and got your hot water
bottle handy?”
“Quite!” the English youth replied in a flat tone. “And I don’t think
_I_ need a hot water bottle!”
Dave kept the grin on his face, but there was suddenly a tiny ache in
his heart. That last from Freddy had hit just a trifle below the belt.
Guess Freddy was getting ideas that maybe he was losing his grip.
Well--what else should he think? Dave shook such thoughts from his head,
and reached for the throttle.
“All aboard for Albuquerque!” he shouted, and raised a hand to his
helmet in salute to Colonel Bates and his officers. “Thanks again for
everything, and I hope we come through here again some day.”
Without waiting to see if his salute was returned, or to give anybody a
chance to say anything, Dave eased the throttle open and sent the Vultee
rolling out to the head end of the lighted runway. He swung around into
the wind, got the green light from the signal tower, and fed the Cyclone
all the high test hop she could take. As though it were something human,
and desperately eager to get into the air, the Vultee streaked forward
and picked up more and more speed with every revolution of its
steel-bladed prop. Presently Dave lifted it clear, got the wheels up,
and the nose pointed toward the crystal-dotted night sky over Texas. He
kept on going up until he was a good seventeen thousand above the earth.
Then he leveled off and put the plane on a crow flight course for
Albuquerque.
He relaxed a bit in the seat, letting the ship fly herself, and sort of
waited for words to come from Freddy Farmer’s lips. But the English born
air ace said nothing. He sat slumped down in his seat, staring at the
vast array of twinkling stars overhead. Dave shrugged, grinned in the
glow of his instrument panel light, and let the plane fly onward toward
Albuquerque.
That is, he flew toward Albuquerque for about ten minutes; then he
touched the stick and rudder pedal and veered way around until the
Vultee was heading due east. For a second Freddy Farmer didn’t notice
the abrupt change of course. But when he did he sat up straight, leaned
forward a bit and rapped Dave on the shoulder.
“Do you know you’re ninety degrees off your course?” he called out.
“No I’m not!” Dave called back, only half turning his head. “I’m right
on it, pal. Right on the old beam!”
“Heading due east?” Freddy cried. “Just where in the world do you think
Albuquerque is? Out in the Gulf of Mexico?”
“Albuquerque?” Dave echoed, thoroughly enjoying himself. “Who the
thunder said anything about Albuquerque? I didn’t have any ideas about
going to Albuquerque!”
Dave waited for what he fully expected. And he wasn’t disappointed.
Suddenly both of Freddy’s hands were about his neck, and there was just
a suggestion of pressure in the English youth’s fingers.
“Blast you, you blighter!” Freddy grated. “And you had us all
thinking--You really mean--”
“What else?” Dave chuckled, and lightly knocked Freddy’s hands away.
“Not that I don’t trust you, pal. I just thought it would be a good
idea not to say anything to anybody. Albuquerque? Nuts! This train is
an express for the Canal Zone. We’re due in in about eight hours. So
lean back and enjoy yourself, apart from your navigation duties, of
course. We’ve got plenty of gas to make it, but we’re not overflowing
with it, so don’t kick your calculations around. You’ll find charts,
and stuff, in that side pocket. I slipped them in there just after
mess. I don’t think the Colonel will miss them. Not sore any more, are
you, sweetheart?”
“I should be, but I’m not,” Freddy growled. “But I see your point. I
guess it was the best idea to say nothing to no one. But why couldn’t we
have gone by bomber, just the same?”
“Freddy, Freddy!” Dave groaned at him. “And you’re attached to
Intelligence? I think I’m a little ashamed of you, my boy. Put on your
thinking cap, and use some of that stuff you’ve got in that thick head
of yours.”
“I already have!” Freddy replied with a faint laugh. “And I’m
embarrassed for myself, no end. Of course! It was to throw everybody off
the trail, eh? Particularly our rat friends?”
“Check,” Dave replied. “There seem to be too many of them, at too many
different places. Maybe there wasn’t one of them at Brownsville. But
there was no way for us to tell for sure. So the best thing to do was to
play it safe, to get the word spread around that we were going back to
Albuquerque.”
“And a double reason, that,” Freddy spoke up. “It will not only throw
our unknown and unseen friends off the trail, but, no doubt, it will
make them wonder just a bit if we have suddenly learned something quite
definite about those goings on at Albuquerque.”
“That’s just the idea!” Dave said with a laugh. “Just one bright little
guy, me, huh?”
“On occasion,” Freddy snapped. “Only on occasion. But I suppose you
realized that our rat friends aren’t the only ones you’re going to
upset?”
“I know,” Dave replied gravely. “But nothing can be done about it. When
we don’t show up at Albuquerque there’ll be a lot of planes out looking
for our crash. Hate to have all that gas and oil wasted. But our job is
to get to the Canal Zone, and get there in shape to start swinging at
this confounded mystery with both fists. Gosh! I sure hope and pray it
doesn’t turn out that we might just as well have gone back to
Albuquerque.”
“Perish the thought!” Freddy Farmer groaned. “Don’t even think of it.
But you can start bearing south now. We’re well east of Brownsville, and
they can’t hear our engine. Canal Zone! Here we come, and jolly well
keen to make the best of things, and win through in pukka style.”
“And you can say that again!” Dave breathed fervently, and banked the
Vultee around until it was headed south and slipping out over the
night-darkened waters of the Gulf of Mexico.
------------------------------------------------------------------------