Dave Dawson on Guadalcanal Part 16

Today, though, it's the other way around. We know where the enemy is, but we don't know exactly where our forces are. There's a heck of a lot of ocean out there, Freddy. We could use up an awful, awful lot of gas and oil and get nowhere, and find nothing!"

"Yes, quite," Freddy grunted. Then, "Except for one thing, old bean."

"Such as?"

"Such as the radio that would be in the j.a.p plane," the English youth replied quickly. "_If_ we could get a j.a.p plane."

Dawson chuckled in spite of the seriousness of the situation, and gave a little shake of his head.

"Leave it to the kid, here!" he breathed. "The firm's brains, that's what he is. But, kidding aside, you've got something, pal. I really think that maybe you have. With a j.a.p radio--and I guess one of them isn't too tough to work--we could sure tell the whole c.o.c.keyed world plenty. Boy, oh boy! Would that burn up Sasebo, to hear us telling the world about his force, where it is, and how many ships, and so forth. I bet he'd dive over the side, and commit _hara-kiri_ on the way down!"

"Well, don't consider it as good as done," the English youth cautioned.

"Stealing a plane in story books is quite simple, of course. But the real thing is quite something else. Just the same, though, I very definitely would like it that way."

"And while we're at it, let's shoot the works," Dawson said with a dry chuckle. "We'll not only swipe a plane, but we'll also swipe all of Sasebo's task force plans before we leave. And maybe even his samurai sword. Now, there is something that would sure get the guy's goat. And I don't mean perhaps!"

Freddy Farmer joined Dave in laughing, and then, suddenly, as their eyes met both sobered in a flash. All that had happened to them, and the terrific strain under which they were right then, was fast catching up with them. It was causing them to become just a bit light-headed, to talk through their hats, and--and, if they didn't call a halt, send them haywire like a couple of babbling idiots. They saw that approaching breaking point in each other's eyes. And it straightened them up, and fast.

"Well, anyway, we got some of it off our chests," Dawson muttered, and stared down at his red welt-marked wrists.

"Yes, quite," Freddy Farmer echoed absently. "And I fancy it helped a little. But I wonder what, Dave?"

"And so do I, chum," Dawson sighed. "So do I!"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

_Devil Eyes_

A good fifteen minutes of silence settled over the two battle-scarred youths before it was broken. And when it was, it was not by either of them. On the contrary, it was broken by a third party. By an unusually tall, and well built j.a.panese Navy officer who opened the door of the empty cabin and came striding inside. Both boys were startled by his sudden approach, they were amazed by his huge size, and they also noticed that he was unarmed save for the samurai sword hung at his belt.

But when they looked at his face, at his eyes, they both gulped impulsively.

The newcomer's eyes were plenty j.a.p. They were also even more than that.

The first impression that came to Dave was that he was looking into a pair of devil's eyes, if ever a pair existed. They were more black than brown, and they had the sagging double upper lid that distinguishes a j.a.p's eyes from those of a Chinese. But there was still something else about them. A certain something that was in their depths. Call it all the hideous cruelty in the world reflected there. Or call it the true look of a born killer and savage. Or call it what you will. There was something there that made Dawson catch his breath, and go hot and cold all over. It was like looking down the muzzle of a rifle and watching the finger crooked about the trigger tighten slowly. In the next split second--

"Come with me, please!"

The words that fell from the j.a.p's lips were like rifle shots. Hardly realizing that they were doing so, both youths sprang quickly up onto their feet. The big j.a.p smiled broadly.

"Good," he said, and bobbed his close shaven head. "I can see that you have learned a little of the lesson you should have learned a long time ago. Come with me, and do not let there be any trouble, please."

As a warning gesture the big j.a.p patted the hilt of his samurai sword, and then stepped aside and jerked his head in a silent order for Dawson and Freddy Farmer to step by him and outside. They stepped out into a fairly wide companionway, and as the j.a.p motioned for them to move off to the right, they saw that the far end of the companionway opened up into what was obviously one of the hangar decks of the carrier. They could see Zeros and Nakajimas, and a couple of other types that they could not make out at that distance.

They didn't have much time to study the parked planes they could see far ahead, however. The big j.a.p soon ushered them into a much narrower companionway off to the right, and then up a ladder. They came off the top of the ladder onto the broad flat flight deck of the carrier. It seemed covered from bow to stern with planes, with a narrow runway lane down the middle. Gazing at it, Dawson couldn't help but think of what a mess it would make if just a single plane taking off should skid to either side and lock wings with the long rows of parked planes.

"Or just a couple of well placed incendiary bombs!" he murmured absently to himself. "Boy! What a bonfire that would be!"

"Eh, Dave?" Freddy Farmer whispered at his elbow. "What was that?"

"Nothing, pal," Dawson sighed. "Just a little wishful thinking!"

At that moment the big j.a.p gave them a gentle push and nodded along the flight deck in the direction of the flight bridge and ship control turrets. The two youths obeyed at once, and as Dawson weaved his way in and out among the parked planes, close cropped j.a.p heads seemed to pop up from all sides and grin and leer at him. He paid them little attention, however. He was more interested in getting a look at the rest of the j.a.p force spread out over the surrounding waters. It was difficult, however, because folded wings and parked fuselages kept cutting off his line of view. He did sight the two other carriers for a brief instant--and sort of wished he hadn't. A three-carrier task force meant at least fifty other ships of different descriptions. And a surprise force that size could cause a lot, an awful lot, of trouble if it got the breaks. In fact, it might well change the entire course of the war in the far flung Pacific.

Fortunately for Dawson, he wasn't allowed much time in which to brood over that possibility. He and Farmer soon reached a point directly below the flight bridge. There the big j.a.p ushered them through a door and along a companionway, and up a couple of more deck ladders. Their little "walk" finally terminated in the well appointed quarters of none other than Admiral Suicide Sasebo himself. And the mad killer was there in the flesh, too, flanked on both sides by his runt-sized staff officers and aides. Short, overfed, bandy-legged and squint-eyed, the whole lot of them. At first glance they looked like a bunch of cross-eyed street urchins dressed up for a cops and robbers masquerade.

If Dawson were to have seen that same picture flash across the screen in a movie theatre he would have fallen out of his seat with laughter. But there was no laughter on his lips now. Not even in the back of his thoughts. Not one single giggle, for each pair of those eyes fixed upon him were not the eyes of a street urchin, but of an inhuman savage who would gladly carve him to shreds for the sheer joy of it all. No, there was no laughter in Dawson, or Freddy Farmer, as the big j.a.p pulled them up to an abrupt halt. Truth to relate, there was only a lot of cold fear, and twice as much worry.

Suddenly to Dave's tensed senses there came a sound akin to that of somebody putting sheets of tin to a buzz saw blade. He jumped inwardly and then realized that the ear-rasping sound was the j.a.p behind him addressing his commanding officer in their native tongue. Impulsively he looked at the row of j.a.p figures to make sure his guess as to which was Admiral Sasebo was correct. And it was correct. The little runt in the middle of the row, wearing fewer decorations than any of the others, made movements with his head, as though somebody were working it with strings from behind, and then made some reply in a soft sing-song note.

As the echo of the sounds he made died away, he looked at Dawson and Farmer. And to their dumbfounded belief he smiled broadly, and executed a slight bow.

"Welcome, Honorable Enemy Gentlemen," he said in fairly good English.

"It is a pleasure to have you aboard my ship. Be seated, please. I am about to dismiss my officers. Then we will discuss your little problem."

The j.a.p Admiral bowed slightly again, then half turned and looked at the officers on one side. He said a few words, bobbed his head, and then turned to the officers on his other side and spoke to them. All of them bowed way over, murmured something, and went single file outside. And soon the cabin was empty save for the two boys, the Admiral, and the big j.a.p officer.

With an effort Dawson tried to shake the cobwebs out of his brain, and get himself on the alert. But it was like trying to wake himself up out of the middle of a crazy, c.o.c.keyed dream. In fact, that's just exactly what all this business seemed like. Like part of some dizzy dream in which n.o.body acts his correct part. "Then we will discuss your little problem." What was going on here, anyway? And, "Welcome, Honorable Enemy Gentlemen!" Where did the guy get that welcome stuff? For fair, somebody was just plain nuts. And Dawson was worried not a little that maybe he was the one.

"Be seated, Honorable Enemy Gentlemen, please. We have plenty of time.

And in war it is a good thing to relax and be comfortable whenever one gets the chance. Yes, in those chairs behind you, please."

If Dawson and Farmer had been under a complete hypnotic spell they couldn't have obeyed more mechanically as they backed up until the chair edge hit them behind the knees, and then sat down. And like a couple of dazed puppets waiting to be moved around, they just sat there with eyes fixed on the j.a.p Admiral. He seated himself, and stared at them for a long time before he spoke.

"So you have very interesting news for me?" he suddenly said with a rising inflection of voice. "Well, I am interested. So tell me all about it, please?"

Dawson gulped slightly and tried desperately to bat his brains off the merry-go-round on which they were riding, and get them to function properly. If he ever was to play a game of wits, this was the time. But at that precise moment he couldn't have spoken his own name correctly for the life of him.

Freddy Farmer, however, rushed to his rescue. The English youth looked the j.a.p Admiral straight in the eye, and shook his head.

"Too late, now," he said quietly. "Neither of us knows where our force is now. It may still be up north off your j.a.panese coast, or perhaps it is now steaming back to Pearl Harbor."

"That is too bad," the j.a.p said without a single change of expression.

"I was hoping that perhaps I could detach one or two of my destroyers to go meet them and sink them."

Both boys got the full meaning of the "one or two destroyers" crack, but both refused to rise to the bait. They simply shrugged and waited for the j.a.p Navy big shot to take the lead again. They thought they saw a faint flicker of anger cross his flat, shiny face, indicating that he was a little annoyed. But that's all the sign he gave. He stared at them each in turn for several more minutes, then seemed to fix his gaze on Dawson's face.

"You say there are _five_ carriers?" he asked.

"Yes, five carriers and--" Dawson replied, and then stopped dead as the walls of the room seem to come tumbling down around his ears.

He heard Freddy Farmer's startled gasp, and wished in that moment that he possessed a gun so that he could shoot his brains out. Of all the stupid, dumb fools, he took the prize. With his bare face hanging out he had walked straight into the j.a.p Admiral's trap, and had been caught cold. In short, the j.a.p had suddenly addressed him in _German_, and without thinking, fathead that he was, he had started to reply in the _same_ tongue.

"And you Americans boast of being so very, very clever!" the j.a.p Navy big shot was now sneering at him. "Fools! Little children! You are all soft, and eaten away in the brain. You are finished. Do you not realize that?"

Dawson didn't say anything. He was mentally kicking himself too much to bother about speaking words. And G.o.d knows he had spoken too many words as it was--in the wrong tongue. Fathead of fatheads. Of course that j.a.p pilot rat had reported the entire conversation aboard the U-boat. Had mentioned, no doubt, that he and the n.a.z.i had spoken in German so that the two prisoners wouldn't understand. But they had understood everything spoken. And now the j.a.p Admiral _knew_ that they had understood. In short, he had only to add two and two to make a pretty sure guess that they hadn't spoken a word of truth aboard the U-boat, and had played dumb in an attempt to pick up information they might use if they ever managed to escape. And, to put it another way, the j.a.p Admiral had checkmated them cold when they had barely begun to sell him a load of phoney goods.