TED'S GONY
On that same morning, as the _Black Bee_ and her escort of fighting
ships knifed in close to their target, Kentucky and his short, tight
formation cut through the masquerading Japs like a reaper through a
field of wheat. When their guns had ceased blazing away and they swung
around for one more sweep, they saw two planes falling in flames, and a
third rolling over and over.
The remaining Japs had time to recover partially from the sudden shock,
but when the "grim reapers" came roaring back, the Zeros were again
swept by a whirlwind of fire.
One wise little brown boy in goggles, who had climbed high, came
swooping down on the tail of a plane, but its gunner took care of him
with neatness and dispatch.
With their number cut in half, the Zeros faded away.
But here were the U. S. bombers and torpedo planes. They were coming in
fast. It was time now to join the covering screen escorting the big boys
to their target, and Kentucky wheeled his four-plane formation about to
shoot away and join their comrades.
The bombers had been shown maps and photographs of the island they were
to attack. "This," their Commander had said, pointing at a map, "is the
air field, quite a distance from the beach. You will go after that
first, destroying all planes on the ground. Then you will attack their
headquarters here, and their fortified positions there.
"I need not tell you," he had said, addressing all his men--pilots,
fighters, bombardiers, torpedo men--"that the life of many a Marine
depends upon the manner in which you perform your task. I know that to a
man we can count on you."
There had been a low murmur in response.
"I might say," the Commander had added, "that this island is to be a
steppingstone to Mindanao."
"Oh! Mindanao! Mindanao!" had come in a chorus.
"Yes, Mindanao, only a few hundred miles away, in the Philippines," he
went on. "And with this island in our possession we shall be able to
soften up Mindanao for the final attack."
"Mindanao," Kentucky thought now as he gripped the controls. "They say
the Japs have a prison camp there, where our men are starving and dying.
We'll walk in there some day and take that big island. We'll free the
prisoners. What a day that will be! Then it's Manila, and after that the
China coast. Boy! Will we harvest a sweet revenge for the things those
Japs have done to the American prisoners!" He studied his instruments,
looked to the loading of his guns, glanced back at his formation, then,
drawing a long breath, murmured:
"Well, Tojo, here we come!"
The dive bombers climbed to twelve thousand feet. Kentucky and his
fighters kept straight on. As they neared the island he spoke a few
words of instruction through his mike to his three companions. Words
came back to him. Then, opening his throttle wide, he set his motor
roaring. Coming in fast and low, they took the Japs by surprise. Scores
of little brown men were racing for the airfield when they came in,
nearly grazing the palm trees. Some thirty planes were still on the
field.
Breaking formation, the "four horsemen" zoomed in upon the planes and
the racing pilots. With machine-gun fire they sent the Japs scurrying
for shelter. Then with tracer bullets they riddled the grounded planes.
Leaving the field in flames, they swung skyward to rejoin the screen of
fighters, bombers, and torpedo planes.
Ten minutes more and the air was filled with the rattle of machine-gun
fire and the island became an inferno of bursting bombs.
The torpedo planes discovered three cargo ships and two destroyers in
the small harbor and, coming in low, released their "tin fish."
Bursting torpedoes added their horror to the general confusion of sound.
A ship exploded, another keeled over and sank, and a third was run
aground. Jap destroyers streaked away, but even their top speed was no
match for Kentucky and his followers.
"After them, fellows!" he shouted. "Remember Pearl Harbor!"
Skimming in over the sea, they peppered the deck of a destroyer with
slugs until not a man was left standing on deck. Lowering their aim,
they began to puncture the destroyer's thin hull.
A film of oil appeared on the water. "Give it to her!" Kentucky shouted
into his phone. "We've struck oil. Let's make it a gusher!"
Just then a dive bomber came screaming down to lay its egg squarely on
the destroyer's deck.
"That got her!" Kentucky exulted, as the craft exploded. "Come on now.
Gas is low. Let's beat it back home for chow."
It was such a day as a flier would never forget.
As they sped away, Marines from barges and small boats were swarming
ashore. The stepping stone to Mindanao was now all but won.
"Jeepers!" Kentucky exclaimed into his mike. "I wish Jack and Stew--yes,
and Ted too--could have been in on this. Wonder where Ted is right now?
We'll have to take a look."
Ted was not faring badly. The balmy breezes had dried out his clothes,
and dawn had come, but there was no sign of their task force.
"Gone in for the kill and then the landing," he thought. "And I'm out of
it. Worse luck!"
"But then," he reflected. "Things might be worse." He had done his bit.
He had helped block the attack of those enemy torpedo bombers, and he
had shot down two of them--he was quite sure of that.
He munched a chocolate bar for a time. Then he examined the fishline
packed in his emergency kit. "Think I'll try it out," he murmured.
Taking a strip of pork rind from a small bottle, he fastened it on his
hook. Then, paying out the line little by little, he watched the white
spot as it sank.
"Yes, there are fish!" He became greatly excited as three big blue
fellows came cruising in. One of them made a dive for the bait, but
changed his mind and shot away.
Ted lifted the line a yard, causing the white spot to shoot upward. A
second fish made a dive for it, but before he made contact the first one
circled back like a plane aiming at a target, and grabbed the lure.
"Got you!" Ted breathed, giving the line a quick jerk.
He had hooked him, but the fish was game. He shot this way, then that,
then circled round and round.
I don't want him any more than a little, Ted thought. I'm not hungry
enough to eat raw fish, and in this sun he wouldn't keep. He began
playing the fish, trying him out.
Then, all of a sudden, a large blue shadow appeared in the water, a
darting shadow. No, it wasn't a shadow--it was a ten-foot shark.
Streaking through the water, sleek and ugly, the shark hypnotized the
boy. This lasted only ten seconds, but long enough. Too late Ted
realized that he was about to exchange his blue fish for a shark.
The shark swallowed the fish, hook and all. At once Ted felt the line
shoot through his fingers. Gripping desperately, he checked the line. He
felt his raft being towed rapidly through the water.
The shark went down. The raft tilted at a dangerous angle. A hundred
thoughts sped through the boy's mind. He might be lost for days, perhaps
weeks. Without food he must perish. No line, no fish, no food. But if
the raft went over? What then? Soaked to the skin, he would in the end
be obliged to yield his line. Then a happy thought struck him. In his
emergency kit were other hooks, and in his parachute many lines. He
opened his hands, the line slid through his fingers. The raft settled
back. He was safe. The shark was gone.
"Whew!" he exclaimed, rubbing his burned fingers. "This life on a raft
is not all it's cracked up to be. You--"
His thoughts were interrupted by the rumble of thunder off in the
distance. Or was it thunder?
He listened more closely. "Bombs!" he exclaimed. "They've made contact!
Hurrah! Hit 'em hard and often, boys! Hit 'em hard!"
Would they take the island? He knew they would. No stopping the
victorious Americans now. Island after island had fallen into their
hands.
Other victories would follow. This island today, he thought. Mindanao
the day after tomorrow. If only I can get back to the fleet before we
tackle Mindanao, he thought with a touch of despair. "God, send someone
to pick me up," he prayed. "Please God, I don't know much. Give me
wisdom. Help me to get food from the sea and the sky. Send me back to my
buddies."
After that there didn't seem to be much left to do but rest, relax, and
watch for smoke on the horizon or a plane in the sky.
The rumble from the west died away, then rose again. The battle might
last all day. Cruisers and destroyers would move in to shell Jap
positions. The carrier would stand by. Perhaps the task force would slip
away under cover of darkness. "If it does that, I'll be sunk," he
murmured disconsolately.
He had managed to bring along a small canteen. He took a sip of water.
He recalled that you were supposed to be able to get water by pressing
out fish meat. He'd have to try that.
The sun was hot. It had been a tough night. He was tired and his head
ached. Finally he stretched himself out and fell asleep.
A little more than an hour later he awoke with a start, clutched at his
head with sudden violence, and grasped something hard and horny with
each hand. He held on grimly, though his head and shoulders were being
beaten unmercifully by something hard and sharp as a crowbar. He let out
a gasp as some knifelike thing cut at his wrist, but still he held on.
At last, half standing up, he gave a mighty heave to bring a great bird
with a ten-foot wing spread, down upon his raft.
"Oh! A gony!" he exclaimed. "You rascal! You nearly wrecked me! What
were you doing on top of my head? Resting? Well, I'll give you a good,
long rest!"
The bird was an albatross, largest of all sea birds. Ted had learned a
great deal about them from the old sailors, who called them gonies. They
followed ships for thousands of miles, sleeping on the sea, or soaring
miles on end, with their long, narrow wings spread wide.
This one, beyond a doubt, had been following their task force, but had
been frightened away by the big guns.
"What'll I do with you?" he demanded of the bird.
His answer was a snap on the ankle from its powerful jaws.
"I should kill and eat you," he exclaimed. "You're worse than a Jap! But
I won't--not yet. Men don't eat gonies unless they have to. It's
supposed to bring bad luck. I'll tie you up, that's what I'll do. Then
we'll try our luck together. If I'm rescued, you go free. If not, you
get eaten."
The gony winked as if he really understood. Then for good measure, he
nipped at Ted's ankle once more.
"You'll be some company," Ted said, as after binding the bird's feet, he
fastened a wide strap taken from his parachute about its wings and body.
Late in the afternoon he caught a fairly large fish. After pressing
water from its meat, he drank a little. "Not impossible," was his
verdict. He ate some of the meat, then offered a bite to his gony, who,
to his surprise, swallowed it.
"You must be a young fellow," he said. "Friendly and green, like
myself." He laughed, and felt better.
Just as the sun was sinking in the west he saw a dark smudge that soon
obscured the sun. "A ship!" He became greatly excited. Another smudge,
and yet another. "The task force!" he exclaimed, standing up and nearly
overturning his raft. "If only it would come this way!"