A SHIP FROM SOME OTHER WORLD
Realizing that matters must soon come to a head, Jack and Stew slept
lightly that night, hidden away among the palms. Anything might happen
on the morrow and they were prepared for the worst.
In the meantime, on board the _Black Bee_ Lieutenant Commander William
A. Brady, leader of the Navy Air Force, was briefing his men.
Before him on the wall were maps and blown-up air photographs.
"I need not tell you," he said to the bomber pilots, fighters, torpedo
men, gunners, radio men, and all the rest assembled before him, "what
our next great objective is to be."
There came a mingled murmur of words, "Mindanao--Mindanao, the
Philippines. We'll give it to 'em good this time."
"Well now, here we have it," said the air commander, pointing at the
map. "Here is a map of the Philippine Islands. And right over here at
the extreme east is Mindanao.
"We go in here." He pointed again. "Behind this wide, deep harbor, where
every fighting ship in our Navy might ride at anchor, is a large city.
There the Japs have established a base of great importance.
"It is necessary that you study this chart with great care. Everything
is plainly marked. Here," he pointed once more, "is the air field, large
enough for our heavy bombers. Here is the dry dock, there the docks for
shipping, there the army barracks, and here their supply depots.
"You will each be given targets, and with your bomb sights you should
not--must not--miss, for the people of this city are native Filipinos.
You've heard of a brown boy named Joe?"
"Yes, sir! Sure! You know it, sir!" came in a chorus.
"He's in that city, a thousand brown boy Joes and their families waiting
deliverance from the Jap. When our troops swarm ashore they'll be there
waiting to give the soldiers a hand.
"Here," he pointed to a spot away from the city, "is the prison camp.
There, housed in huts, poorly fed and in rags, are hundreds of the boys
who fought so bravely at Bataan and at Corregidor. Each dawn they face
the sun and pray for deliverance. Shall their prayer be answered?"
An uproarious affirmative came from the men.
"Are there big Jap battle wagons, aircraft carriers, and supply ships in
that harbor?" the Commander asked. "This we cannot know. It's up to the
scouts to tell us about that. And if they're there--" he paused.
"We'll take 'em!" came in a big, hard voice. "They got my pal at Pearl
Harbor. Nothing's too bad for them!" There came a roar of approval.
"We'll have more of this as we approach the target," the Commander
promised. "You will be given smaller copies of this chart. I suggest
that you memorize it in detail. Much depends on this undertaking. It may
even be spoken of in the future as the turning point of the war, for
after Mindanao comes Manila. From Manila we go to the China coast."
"And then Tokyo!" the big voice roared.
"Yea! Yea! Yea! Tokyo! Tokyo!" came like a college football yell.
"That's the spirit, and that, for the present, is all I have to say,"
the Commander concluded.
"Oh, one more word." The Commander turned about once more to face them.
"We shall not be alone. We are to be part of what may be the greatest
fighting force ever assembled in these southern seas. You should
consider yourselves highly honored by being made a part of this great
fighting force."
He moved away. There was no cheering now, for this was war--and one of
the solemn moments of their lives.
As the Commander left the cabin his eyes fell on Ted standing in a
corner.
"Congratulations on your escape." He held out a hand.
"Thank you, sir. I'm glad to be back." Ted smiled.
"What about Jack and Stew?" the Commander asked.
"We've heard from them, sir. They've got some sort of radio. They're on
a small island not far from the spot where we sank that Jap flat-top."
"Good! We'll be passing within a hundred miles of the spot early
tomorrow morning. Perhaps you would like to have a try at rescuing
them." The Commander gave Ted a friendly smile.
"Nothing would please me more, sir!" was the quick reply. "Jack's from
my home town, you know."
"I didn't know, but then you certainly shall have the assignment."
"I shall take off at dawn, sir."
"Good! And here's luck to you. Do your best. We shall need those men in
our next effort."
"I'll bring them back, sir." Ted saluted. The Commander returned the
salute, and they parted.
"Wonder if that was a rash promise?" Ted thought. "Not if I can help
it!" He clenched both hands hard, then opened them and flexed his
fingers. "Have to relax," he told himself. "That's part of the game."
He was up before dawn. He gulped coffee and doughnuts, and was ready for
his plane, already warming up.
Blackie and Red were there to see him off. "Wish we were going along,"
said Blackie.
"Don't we, though!" Red agreed. "No such luck. We've got to lead some of
those rookie fliers in practice maneuvers. They're pretty good, but for
what we're going into next they've got to be better."
"Mindanao, that's right." Ted had one foot on his plane. "Mindanao seems
to be what we were born for. We've dreamed of it for weeks now. Well, so
long, boys! Wish me luck!" He climbed into his plane.
"So long! Best of luck!" Red called.
"Yes, and have a fine trip!" Blackie added.
In his light, powerful fighter Ted climbed for the clouds. There weren't
many, but those he saw were immense. "Once you're inside one of those
babies you're as good as lost," he told himself.
Climbing through one of these he soared away, glorying in the wonderful
beauties of the sunrise.
"The heavens declare the glory of God," he repeated slowly. "And the
firmament showeth His handiwork. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night
unto night showeth knowledge."
If we could read half the things written in the skies we'd be mighty
wise, he thought. After that for quite some time he sailed on, not
thinking much about anything, just storing up energy for what lay ahead.
And he was to need all the energy and wisdom he possessed.
He had covered the greater part of the distance to his destination, had
picked out the island on which he believed his friends to be marooned,
and was heading straight for it when he began to hear a strange, low,
screaming noise.
"Rats!" he exclaimed. "Something's wrong with my motor!"
Shutting off the gas, he glided silently downward, but still that
strange sound reached his ears.
"Not my motor," he thought, sending his ship shooting forward once more.
"That's the queerest thing I ever heard."
Puzzled and disturbed by this strange phenomenon, he gave his ship a
fresh burst of speed and headed straight for his island goal.
With every second the peculiar howling sound, which at first was little
more than a whistle, increased until it was like a fire alarm.
Thirty seconds had not passed before an airplane such as he had never
seen came shooting out of a large cloud to go darting across his path.
"Lost its propeller," was his first thought. "It will crash into the
sea."
When suddenly the plane banked sharply, began to climb, and then came
darting at him like a hornet, his astonishment knew no bounds.
He was a good pilot. There were few better, and he had a cool head.
Giving his ship all the gas it would take, he shot down in a vertical
dive.
With plenty of altitude between his plane and the water, he was safe for
a second but what would happen after? A glimpse of the plane as it shot
across the sky above him told that it carried no markings. "Nobody's
plane," he thought. "A flying Dutchman of the sky."
Hardly had he thought this than he realized that, circling like a
darting humming bird, the ship was preparing to come at him again.
This time he resolved that in a way he should hold his ground. Dropping
a few hundred yards he banked hard in an attempt to come up beneath the
plane for a try at a burst of fire. But when he reached the spot the
ship was some distance away.
"Such speed!" he muttered. "Wonder if she's armed?"
Vain question. A burst of slugs swept across the sky. Holes appeared in
his right wing.
"Declaration of war!" he shouted. "Well, then, I accept the challenge."
He began an all but vertical climb to get above them in the hope of
dropping on their tail.
"If that creation has a tail," he thought with a touch of desperation.
"A regular headless horse of the air! No propeller, a sound like a
siren. What can you expect?"
One thing he could expect was speed. They were after him and climbing
like the wind. They were nearly upon his tail before he knew it.
Banking sharply to the left, he went into a terrific dive. As he flashed
past them they fired from some swinging gun, and missed.
"I'll make the island before they get me or crash," he swore to himself.
Then he saw a cloud. It was just ahead of him, not large, but at least a
haven. He darted into it, and for the moment was safe.
But the enemy was persistent. The freak began crisscrossing the cloud.
Circle as he might, Ted could not quite escape contact. There came the
_rat-tat-tat_ of machine-gun fire.
"Shooting at my shadow," Ted guessed. "That's a game two can play." Ten
seconds later, catching a dark streak passing through the misty cloud,
he released a burst of fire. The shriek of the enemy plane changed
instantly. Had he registered a hit? He dared hope so.
But the fight was not over. The wild terror still circled, its shriek
becoming sharper and more piercing each instant.
"There never was such a plane as that," Ted mused desperately. "It's
supernatural, an inhuman thing, the work of no man, but of the devil
himself. I'll dive and keep right on going, level off at last, and land
on the sea. It's my only chance."
Going into a steep dive, he found himself almost at once in bright,
tropical sunlight. The change was startling. Like going to a party with
no clothes on, he thought.
He went straight on down, and the shrieker followed him.
For ten desperate seconds he skimmed over the sea. Then he hit
it--_bump--bump--bump_. He taxied along at last. Having shut off his
motor before his plane was at a standstill, he pushed back his hood and
plunged into the sea.
He was not an instant too soon, for again came the rattle of the
machine-gun fire. The enemy was shooting up his plane on the sea, trying
to kill him while he was down. Ted, for the moment, was safe enough. He
had gone beneath the surface.
When he came up blowing, he saw the screamer circle for another try.
Then an amazing thing happened. Some heavy object came hurtling down
from the enemy plane.
"What is it?" he asked himself. Then, "Good grief! It's a man!"
The body hit the water with killing force, if indeed the man was not
already dead. It sank from sight.
"The dirty dogs!" Ted exclaimed, when his head had ceased whirling.
"They tried to kill me after I'd made a crash landing! Looks like one of
them got paid off, though."