CHAPTER THREE
_Flight To Nowhere_
The sun was sliding down over the western lip of the world in a hurrywhen Dawson sat the Vultee down on the Sydney field after atrans-Australia flight from Broome. As soon as they taxied into the lineand mechanics took over, a sergeant of the Military Police came hurryingover to them. For just a brief moment Dave's heart floated up to theregion of his throat. It was just a wasted sensation, however. The M.P.was simply doing his duty of informing all pilots landing from otherbases to report first to the operations office.
Dave and Freddy legged out, collected their stuff, and went over tooperations. They were obviously expected, for the officer on dutygreeted them with a grin and a nod, and jerked a thumb at the motortransport building next door.
"A car and driver are waiting, Captains," he said pleasantly. "Overthere in front. He'll take you to Headquarters at once. Have a nice tripout?"
"It wasn't too bad," Dave replied. Then, after a moment's hesitation, headded, "I suppose I'd be shot if I asked questions?"
The operations officer chuckled and shook his head.
"No," he said, "you wouldn't be shot. But you wouldn't get any answers,either. Because I don't know any. I can tell you this much, though, ifit will help any. You two are the umpty-umph pilots since yesterdaymorning who have checked through here in a hurry to get to Headquarters.Looks like something big is in the wind, but I wouldn't know. Nobodytells us guys anything, anyway. Good luck, just the same, and--Well, forthe love of Mike, Dawson! Did some sweet young thing in China try tosteal your wings with her teeth? Man, those are chewed up, what I mean!"
"No, Zero teeth, if you get what I mean," Dave grinned. "I'm a luckyguy, I guess."
The operation officer's eyes widened, and he let out air slowly.
"Did, huh?" he breathed. "Luck, and how, what I mean! Man, what Iwouldn't give for a war souvenir like that! You're the second chap I'vemet whose life was saved by a bullet ricocheting off his wings. I knowone fellow, too, who got saved by his cigarette case. No fooling,Dawson, you've really got something there. Well, anyway, scram along,kids, and a million in luck!"
"Same to you, and in bunches, soldier," Dave grinned, and went outsidewith Farmer.
"See what I mean, Freddy?" he said as they walked toward the motortransport building. "There's nice guys, and otherwise, in every man'sarmy. You never can tell a fellow by the rank insignia on hisshoulders."
"Quite, oh quite," the English-born air ace murmured absently. "But I'mwondering why so many pilots have been ordered to Headquarters. Iwonder."
Dawson shrugged and headed toward a war-painted staff car with acorporal driver lounging against a front fender.
"Search me," he said. "Could be that they have decided to wash out theArmy Air Forces, and make ditch diggers of us all. Not a bad idea, afterthe flying I've seen _some_ guys do."
"Yes, definitely," Freddy Farmer replied instantly. "But how the deucedo you manage it, Dave? I should think the whirling prop tips wouldsmash it."
"Huh?" Dawson ejaculated. "Come again, Freddy? How do I manage what?"
"To hold a mirror out in front of you, so you can see yourself flyingaround!" the English youth shot at him. "Quite a trick, isn't it?"
"Bingo, and out!" Dawson laughed. "Okay, wise guy! That puts you one upfor the day. But the sun hasn't set yet. So keep right up there on yourtoes, my lad. Well, this must be ours."
As Dave spoke the last he returned the salute of the corporal driver,who had straightened to attention.
"This the H.Q. taxi, Corporal?" he asked.
"I guess you could call it that, sir," the non-com said with a chuckle."Step right in and it will take you there itself. It sure has madeenough trips these last couple of days to be able to do it on its own."
"Really?" Freddy Farmer murmured. "All Air Forces officers, Corporal?"
"No, not all, sir," the non-com replied. "About fifty-fifty Army andNavy, sir, I'd say. Quite a bunch of them, too. I guess maybesomething's being cooked up for Tojo and his boys. High time, I'mthinking, too. We're quite a few runs behind them tramps."
"But we'll catch up, don't worry," Dawson assured him. "They took firstswings, you know, so our team will get last swings. And I do mean lastswings, too."
The non-com driver nodded and grinned broadly. Then as he held the cardoor open for the pair to climb in, he let his eyes rest on theirdecoration ribbons.
"Yeah, Captain," he grunted, "we get last swings. But I can see that youtwo officers ain't been exactly hitting loud fouls every time you cameup. Nailed plenty of them slant eyes, huh?"
"A couple, I guess," Dave grinned. "But they were probably fledglings ontheir first time out."
"Yeah, I bet, I bet!" the corporal snorted, and slid in behind thewheel. "Well, here goes for trip nine thousand and something!"
Regardless of what number trip it was for that corporal, it wascertainly the fastest, wildest ride that either Dawson or Freddy Farmerhad ever had in a car. When they finally pulled up in front of thebuilding that served as USAFFE Headquarters (United States Armed Forcesin the Far East) they were both quite certain that they had left tenyears of their lives somewhere along the road. As he climbed out, Davetook a five-dollar bill from his pocket and offered it to the driver.But the non-com shook his head.
"That's okay, sir, and thanks just the same," he said. "I used to drivea hack in New York before the draft nailed me. So I know right guys whenI see them. I don't want no tip, sir."
"It isn't a tip," Dave grinned, and dropped the bill in the driver'slap. "Just a little something to buy stuff from the hospital canteen withwhile you're convalescing. Go on; keep it."
The non-com blinked stupidly for a moment; then his flat, freckled facecracked in a broad grin.
"I get it, Skipper," he said with a chuckle. "I won't spend _this_ in nohospital. I can drive this baby with my eyes closed."
"And I think you did!" Dave laughed at him. "And good luck."
"And good hunting for both of you, sir!" the driver called out as Daveand Freddy went up Headquarters front steps.
Just inside the big front doors, they were buttonholed by an officerseated at a desk who wanted to know their business there. They couldn'ttell him that, but they gave the officer their names, and that was goodenough. In fact, it seemed to please him, for he let out a long sigh.
"Well, thank Heaven, you're the last of the lot!" he breathed. "I'vebeen seeing nothing but Army and Navy pilots--even in my dreams. Reportto Room Twelve Fifty for further orders. Good luck."
Dave asked where he'd find Room Twelve Fifty, received the information,and started off with Freddy.
"This is getting to make me feel not so good," he grunted, as he stabbedan elevator button and waited for the car to come down.
"What do you mean?" the English youth asked quickly. "Have you heardsomething I haven't?"
"With your big ears?" Dave shot at him. "Such a question! No. I mean theparting crack everybody gives us. Good luck, good hunting, and so forth.It makes me nervous when everybody keeps wishing me good luck. Makes mefeel they really do know something bad is going to pop, and they'resaying to themselves, 'And he seems such a nice guy, too!"
"If they _know_ you they're not saying that!" Freddy cracked back fast."But I get the idea of what you mean. Frankly, I'm getting to hate thosetwo words, good luck. Half the time I fancy they're not really meant."
"Boy, are you going sour in your middle age!" Dave chuckled. "Cheer up,pal, and--and _Good luck!_"
Freddy glared, and he might have started things right then and there butfor the fact that the elevator came down at that moment and the slidingdoors parted open. A couple of minutes later they were pushing throughthe door of Room Twelve Fifty. It wasn't a very big room, but it seemedjammed to the ceiling with Army, Navy, and Marine Corps pilots. BothDave and Freddy spotted several pilots whom they knew. Then, suddenly,both came to a full stop and stared pop-eyed at the far end of the room.There was a desk there manned by a couple of high ranking
officers. Thepilots in the room were filing past the desk, and obviously giving theirnames, and so forth, to the two officers. One of them was an infantrycolonel, and the other was an Air Forces major. It was sight of theinfantry colonel that caused both Dave and Freddy to stop dead, andgape. In short, once again they were meeting their old friend ColonelWelsh, Chief of Combined U.S. Intelligence.
"Oh-oh!" Dave murmured. "Do you see what I see, Freddy?"
"I most certainly do," the English youth replied. "Fact is, we mighthave guessed, what?"
"Yeah, something like that," Dawson grunted absently. "The colonel inthe flesh, huh? Well, that means there isn't any clam bake coming up,that's certain. But I guess we must have fallen down on that last job hegave us, Freddy. And he's very disappointed."[A]
"Eh?" Freddy gasped. "What do you mean, we must have fallen down on thejob? Don't be silly!"
"Well, look at all these other pilots here," Dave replied. "Must be hedoesn't think we're so hot any more, and is going to give us plenty ofhelp on the next job--whatever it is."
"Man! How some people hate themselves!" Freddy Farmer snorted. "But Iwonder what's up; what he has up his sleeve?"
"Well, there's one way to find out, I guess," Dave grunted, and startedto move. "Get into line, here, and ask him when it comes our turn."
As Dave and Freddy were the last two to enter the room, and weretherefore at the end of the line, the room was pretty well cleared ofpilots when they reached the desk. Colonel Welsh was bent over a list ofnames and didn't look up.
"Name, rank, and former unit?" he asked mechanically.
"Dawson, sir. Captain. Returned from special assignment in China."
Colonel Welsh stiffened, let his pencil drop, and looked up quickly. Abroad smile of welcome lighted up his thin, sun-bronzed face. He didn'tbother to reply to their salutes. He simply put out his hand.
"So you made it, Dawson, and you, too, Farmer?" he said. "Good! I'vebeen worrying you wouldn't get under the wire. How are you?"
"Fine, sir," Dave grinned as he shook hands. "And sort of curious, ofcourse."
"Oh, quite, sir," Freddy echoed, and extended his hand. "And I fancyDawson has expressed it for both of us."
"Well, stay curious for a while, boys," the colonel replied with a drychuckle. "But here, I want both of you to meet Major Taylor. He's seen abit of action in this mess, too. Take a look at his decorations, if youdon't believe me. Major Taylor, Captains Dawson and Farmer."
The two youths shook hands with the major, and both liked him instantly.He had twinkling grey eyes that could become as cold as ice cubes whenhe wanted, and a warm smile that showed he always meant what he saidfrom the heart.
"Big moment Number One for me today, Captains," he said. "I've heardabout you two plenty, of course. So I'm mighty glad to meet you. Maybewe can have fun together. With the Jap rats, I mean."
"Nothing would suit me better, Major," Dawson replied, and meant it,too.
"Definitely, Major," Freddy Farmer added. And then with a faint smile,"But _where_, sir?"
"Oh, haven't I told you yet?" Colonel Welsh spoke up with a quick laugh."Why, we're all making a little flight to--well, to give you somethingto think about, Farmer, let's call it a little flight to nowhere!"
[Footnote A: _Dave Dawson With The Flying Tigers._]