Dave Dawson on Guadalcanal Part 8

As Dawson grated out the words he automatically checked to make sure that his guns were ready for action. They were, but in the next split second the fear was his that he might not be able to use them. Those aboard the Kawanishi flying boat had obviously spotted his approach, because the huge craft had suddenly changed course and was racing upward and eastward toward the safety of a towering bank of clouds. Dave instantly nosed the Dauntless up for alt.i.tude, and shook his head savagely.

"No, not even that way!" he shouted aloud into the thunder of his own engine. "We'll smoke you out of there even if it takes all night. Nope!

You rats are all washed up, and I don't mean maybe!"

With a vigorous nod for emphasis, Dawson hunched forward even more on the seat and let fly with a short burst from his guns to warm them up.

Perhaps the j.a.ps heard his firing and accepted it as a challenge. Or maybe the slant-eyed killer at the controls saw that he wouldn't be able to make the safety of the clouds in time, and was veering around to present less of a target to the oncoming Dauntless.

At any rate, the huge craft came curving around in the air, and its blunt nose started spewing out a jetting ribbon of red flame. Dave grinned and inched his plane up a little more.

"Thanks for saving me the trouble of hunting you out!" he shouted. "But you'd be a flock of dead ducks, no matter what you tried. Me and Freddy have been around, slobs, see? We sort of know most of the answers, now, when it comes to you baby killers. Okay! Try this one on your rice bowl!"

As the last left Dave's lips he pulled the nose of the Dougla.s.s Dauntless straight up toward Heaven. He let the plane prop claw upward until it was just this side of the stalling point. Then, with a kick on the rudder pedal and a swift pa.s.s at the controls, he whipped the scout-bomber over and down at practically the vertical. As he had been going straight up, the Kawanishi had been rushing straight forward, and so as a result the big craft was almost directly below when Dawson came rushing down again. He had only to ease just a little out of his dive to catch the top of the flying boat in his sights. And the instant he had it pinned in his sights he let go with his forward guns.

For one brief instant nothing seemed to happen. Then suddenly the huge Kawanishi appeared to stand still in the air. Stand still and spew out jetting ribbons of red flame from a dozen different points from the nose of the hull clear back to the tail. The jetting ribbons of flame marked the efforts of the j.a.p gunners aboard to get the diving Dauntless in their sights. However, they might just as well have tried to pick off a haywire comet rushing down at them.

And then, as the flying boat seemed to come to a dead halt in the air, the efforts of the j.a.p gunners came to a swift and abrupt halt. A tiny tongue of flame shot up from the forward end. Then as though by magic it spread out fan-shaped and went sweeping backward to engulf everything in a raging inferno of flame. Eyes popping, and heart practically standing still, Dawson stared in awe at the horrible sight. And then in the nick of time he snapped out of his trance, and hauled the plunging Dauntless off to the side and into the clear.

"About time, little man!" he heard Freddy Farmer shout. "I thought you were going to run into the beggar, and tell him you were sorry. But you know you're very hoggish, don't you. A very greedy beggar, if there ever was one."

Dawson didn't make any reply at once. He brought the Dauntless back onto even keel, and then turned in the seat to look back at the Kawanishi.

That is, he turned in the seat to look back at what was _left_ of the huge flying boat. And that was just a great ball of flame and smoke that hovered in midair for a moment or two before it started dropping earthward trailing behind a long column of fluffy black. Dave followed it all the way down until it smacked into the Southwest Pacific with a mighty splash.

"What was that you were babbling about, pal?" he then demanded of his flying mate.

"I was remarking that you are a rotter!" Freddy Farmer snapped. "Very definitely so. And twice as greedy, too. What do you think I'm back here for, with guns of my own, eh?"

"I sure could answer that one, but skip it, pal!" Dave laughed at him.

"But it was just one of those things, Freddy, so help me. I must have nailed the pilot and one of the tanks first burst. Boy! Did he burn up and go down quick! Talk about shooting clay pigeons! That was certainly the cinchiest thing I ever tackled. I--Holy smoke! Hold it a moment, Freddy! I should be reporting to the carrier."

Forgetting Freddy Farmer for the moment, Dave concentrated on raising the carrier on the radio, and made his report. His report was acknowledged, and he was given orders to return to the surface vessel at once. The orders had been short and sweet, and Dave broke off contact with a faint frown.

"Now what, I wonder?" he grunted absently. "They didn't seem to be very pleased about it. What did they expect, anyway?"

"Good grief, what did _you_ expect?" Freddy Farmer snapped at him. "A citation for a medal while you're still in the air? Use your head, old thing. The carrier task force commander is pleased right enough, I fancy. But undoubtedly quite worried, too. He wants us back in a hurry for questioning."

"Huh?" Dave echoed, and started searching the surrounding skies. "You mean, because maybe there's some more of those big babies around?"

"Oh my hat!" the English youth groaned. "At times I swear you absolutely have not a brain in your head, Dave. And this is one of them. Radio, my little man. Radio!"

Dave turned in the seat and gave Freddy a nasty stare.

"All right, wise guy!" he growled. "Stop playing riddles, and out with it. What do you mean, radio?"

"The j.a.p radio!" Freddy came right back at him fast. "The radio _on that Kawanishi_ that you just shot down so expertly. Perhaps they sighted our task force and radioed word to their base before you put the lot of them out of commission. Now do you see?"

Dave stiffened in the seat, let out a yelp, and clapped one hand to his forehead.

"Knock me for an outside loop, am I dumb!" he cried. "Am I thick, and dumb, and stupid! Holy smokes, yes, Freddy! And I'm taking off my humble hat to you. That's right, pal. If they did sight our carrier task force and got word of it back to their base in time, then we certainly are off to a terrible start, and how. Jeepers! I wonder just how far from home that Kawanishi was?"

"We'll probably never know, but what does it matter?" the English youth grunted. "The point is, _did_ they get word back about the Hawk and the Carson, or didn't they? I bet Colonel Welsh and Admiral Jackson are having a few very bad moments right now. That Kawanishi business could turn everything upside down, you know. And worse luck, it probably will."

Dawson just nodded, and let it go at that as he gave his attention to getting back to the task force as quickly as he could. It was about fifteen minutes before they spotted the force on the horizon. And it was another ten before they were safely aboard the Carson, and a junior officer was leading them to the Admiral's quarters. They found Colonel Welsh there, too. And also the ship's executive flight officer. The Admiral took the salute, but it was Colonel Welsh who spoke to them.

"Nice shooting," he said quietly. "Now let's have your report in detail.

Did the j.a.p see you approach, or did you get him before he realized what was happening?"

Dave glanced at Freddy, got the sign to do the talking, and made a little gesture with one hand.

"I'm afraid he saw us, sir," he replied. And then he reported in detail their flight from take-off to landing.

When he had finished a heavy silence hung over the Admiral's quarters.

It was plain to see that the news was not what they had been hoping it would be. And after a few moments Admiral Jackson looked at Colonel Welsh, and sighed heavily.

"Well, that changes our plans, I guess, Colonel," he said. "The j.a.ps must certainly know where we are, now, even though they don't know where we're heading. And by morning they're bound to have flocks of their long range planes out looking for us. That makes it not so good."

Colonel Welsh nodded in unhappy agreement and chewed on his lower lip.

"Not good at all," he murmured. "A rotten bit of luck right at the start. One hour sooner and we'd have been covered by darkness. But why talk about that now? He knows where we are, and so the next move is up to us. I'm afraid, Admiral, our only hope is to fall back on the subst.i.tute plan, and take our chances."

"Confound that Kawanishi!" Admiral Jackson grated, and banged a bunched fist on the desk top. "Ten to one he was probably way off his patrol course, and just happened to b.u.mp into us by accident. Not the first time that sort of thing has happened, either. Yes, I guess you're right, Colonel. We've got to go back to the subst.i.tute plan, and pray. I'll inform the other carrier and the rest of the task force."

The Admiral sighed, shook his head in an unhappy gesture, and then looked at Dawson and Freddy Farmer.

"Don't take any of the blame for the rotten luck, you two," he said with a faint smile. "You did the best you could. At least it's something that they'll never go back to their base to report in detail. Very well, then, gentlemen. If you'll excuse me I'll give my orders to the signal officer."

The others took the "hint" and filed quickly out of the Admiral's quarters. Dawson and Freddy Farmer went down onto the flight deck and over to where crew men were checking over their Dauntless.

"Any damage?" Dave asked the aviation machinist's mate in charge. "Did we catch any lead?"

"Not a bit, sir," the other replied. "Not a scar any place. You must have jumped on him fast, and plenty."

"Not too fast, I'm afraid," Dawson replied with a rueful grin. "They were just rotten shots, I guess."

"Maybe, sir," the machinist's mate said with a shrug. "But you smacked 'em, and that's what they pay off on in this man's war."

Dave grinned and nodded silently, and started along the flight deck with Freddy. However, they had progressed but a few steps toward the companionway leading down below decks when they heard their names called. They turned around to see Colonel Welsh striding toward them.

"I just want to repeat that it was a good job you did on that j.a.p rat snooping plane," the senior officer said when he reached them. "Also, don't feel too badly that you didn't get to it sooner. After all, it wasn't your fault. Our own scouting planes should have been aloft and spotted it. It was just one of those things, so don't let it throw you, eh?"

The colonel c.o.c.ked a brow and smiled as he spoke the last. Dave returned the smile and shook his head.

"I won't, sir," he said. "A tough break that just couldn't be helped.

Maybe we'll have better luck next time."

As Dave spoke the last he looked hard at Colonel Welsh, and so did Freddy Farmer. The senior officer appeared not to notice for a moment or two. Then he grinned slowly.

"Neither of you would be curious, would you?" he chuckled.