Part 4 (1/2)
”Man! How some people hate themselves!” Freddy Farmer snorted. ”But I wonder what's up; what he has up his sleeve?”
”Well, there's one way to find out, I guess,” Dave grunted, and started to 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 were therefore at the end of the line, the room was pretty well cleared of pilots when they reached the desk. Colonel Welsh was bent over a list of names and didn't look up.
”Name, rank, and former unit?” he asked mechanically.
”Dawson, sir. Captain. Returned from special a.s.signment in China.”
Colonel Welsh stiffened, let his pencil drop, and looked up quickly. A broad smile of welcome lighted up his thin, sun-bronzed face. He didn't bother to reply to their salutes. He simply put out his hand.
”So you made it, Dawson, and you, too, Farmer?” he said. ”Good! I've been worrying you wouldn't get under the wire. How are you?”
”Fine, sir,” Dave grinned as he shook hands. ”And sort of curious, of course.”
”Oh, quite, sir,” Freddy echoed, and extended his hand. ”And I fancy Dawson has expressed it for both of us.”
”Well, stay curious for a while, boys,” the colonel replied with a dry chuckle. ”But here, I want both of you to meet Major Taylor. He's seen a bit of action in this mess, too. Take a look at his decorations, if you don'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 when he wanted, and a warm smile that showed he always meant what he said from the heart.
”Big moment Number One for me today, Captains,” he said. ”I've heard about you two plenty, of course. So I'm mighty glad to meet you. Maybe we can have fun together. With the j.a.p 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 something to think about, Farmer, let's call it a little flight to nowhere!”
[Footnote A: _Dave Dawson With The Flying Tigers._]
CHAPTER FOUR
_Action Bound_
”Flight to nowhere, eh? What the blasted blue blazes did he mean by that? Is this thing going to be fitted with wings, or something, I'd like to know?”
It was Freddy Farmer who spoke the words. With Dave Dawson, and some two dozen Army, Navy, and Marine Corps pilots, he stood on the deck of an American destroyer steaming out of Sydney into the Tasman Sea at full knots. Just five hours ago they had met Colonel Welsh at H.Q., and--and learned nothing except that they were going on a flight to nowhere.
Shortly after the Colonel had imparted to them that choice bit of ”secret information,” he had sent them on their way to enjoy the sights of Sydney for a few hours, and then to report to a certain Army pier at such and such a time.
Well, they had seen most of the sights of Sydney in a restaurant where Freddy Farmer was at least happy, because the place was stocked with far more food than he could possibly eat at one sitting. And when it was practically coming out of his ears, they left the place and took a short walk about town. At the proper time they reported to the pier where a bunch of Army, Navy, and Marine Corps pilots were already gathered.
Everybody was full of questions, but there wasn't a single answer in the whole crowd. Then presently a sleek, battle grey destroyer slid in and tied up long enough for the whole gang to be taken aboard. And now the destroyer was cleaving the night-blackened waters of Sydney Harbor and sending spray flying well back over the bridge.
”Don't ask me, sweetheart,” Dawson grunted, and stared down at the black waters swirling past the destroyer's hull. ”Could be they're going to take us out and drown the lot of us. How do I know?”
”Well, you could at least be helpful enough to make a sensible guess!”