Dave Dawson with the Commandos

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Dave Dawson with the Commandos Page 7

by Robert Sidney Bowen


  CHAPTER SEVEN

  _More Orders_

  Dave was filled with the sudden desire to have the office floor open upand permit him to drop down through out of sight. Those frosted ice cubeeyes pinned him in his tracks, and held his own like powerful magnets.He couldn't have turned his head to see Freddy's face if he had wantedto. He gulped and moistened his tongue.

  "I beg your pardon, sir?" he managed. "I--"

  "Never mind begging my pardon!" the owner of the frosted eyes flung athim. "Just answer my question. Who the devil do you two think you are?Who gave you permission to take off from this field and engage enemyaircraft?"

  Dave was too stunned even to begin to think up an answer. Instead, helistened to Freddy Farmer speak for them both.

  "I'm afraid we didn't stop to think, sir," the English youth said. "Whenwe heard the alarm siren we simply jumped for our planes. It was likethat. I realize we shouldn't have, sir. But--well, I was in the air bythat time. And it seemed the right thing to keep on and have a go at theJerry ships. I'm sorry, sir. We're both sorry, sir."

  A touch of sudden anger slashed through Dave, and the words were out ofhis mouth before he could check them.

  "I'm not, sir!" he cried. "I'm never sorry when I get a Nazi, no matterhow or where I get him. We saw them coming, and it was our job to dosomething about it. That's all there was to it!"

  The Group Captain stared at Dave and made a solid line with his brows.

  "Not sorry?" he barked. "Who said anything about not being sorry? Idemand, however, that you apologize to me, and to my fighter pilots!"

  "Apologize?" Dave gasped, as he seemed to lose his grip on things. "Forwhat? For knocking off a couple of Jerry planes, for cat's sake?"

  The senior officer looked sterner than ever; then the ghost of a smilequivered at the corners of his mouth.

  "Certainly, Captain Dawson," he said without so much bite in his voice."This is _our_ hunting ground. And goodness knows too few Jerries comeover our way to make us eager to share them with a couple of wild flyingmad-men. So you both owe us an apology for poaching on our game grounds.But we'll take the apologies for granted. Sit down, you two. You deservea chair at least, I fancy."

  Dave came close to missing his chair, he was so surprised and relieved.He looked at the now grinning Group Captain and let his breath outslowly.

  "Gosh, sir," he gulped, "I thought you meant it there for a minute."

  "I still do!" the other said with a nod and a chuckle. "It wasn't fairof you, at all. According to Major Barber you had your air sport earlierthis morning. Not cricket, you know, to horn in on our doings.Congratulations, nevertheless. Fact is, those blighters might have donea bit of damage if you hadn't got at them so soon. My chaps must havebeen taking cat naps. Well, Farmer? Glad to be back in England?"

  "Very much so, sir," Freddy replied, and beamed all over his face. "Oneof the happiest moments of my life."

  For a brief instant shadows crossed the Group Captain's face, and helooked grave and filled with concern.

  "I hope there will be many more, equally happy, Farmer," he saidpresently. "No. Never mind the questions. I have no idea what's in storefor you two. But I certainly know you were not brought back over herejust to have a spot of leave. You'll doubtless learn soon enough,though. Meantime, I'd better get on with my part of the business--thatis, give you the instructions Major Barber left with me."

  "Left!" Dave gulped. "You mean, sir, the Major has gone?"

  "Quite," the other replied with a nod. "While you two were stealingJerry planes from us. I believe he had intended to remain awhile, but acall for him came through from your American Headquarters in London. Idetailed him a plane, and a pilot to fly him up there."

  "And he left orders for us, you say, sir?" Freddy Farmer promptedrespectfully.

  "Quite correct," the senior officer told him. "You are to remain hereuntil you've had a bit of breakfast and some rest. Then I'm to detailyou a two-seater plane. It's as if I were running a blasted aerial taxicompany, or something. Anyway, sometime today, when it suits yourcollective fancy, you are to fly to the Lewes Base, on the South Downs,and report to the commanding officer. Squadron Leader Parkinson is hisname. He has a Spitfire squadron. A fine bunch of lads, too. You'lllike them all, I'm sure. Well, there're your orders as Major Barber leftthem with me. Now, how about a spot of food, eh?"

  Dave didn't move. He acted as though he had not heard the question. Hesimply sat staring puzzle-eyed at the Group Captain.

  "Report to a fighter squadron, sir?" he murmured presently. "You meanwe're back in the R.A.F. again?"

  "I don't mean anything of the sort," the senior officer replied with alittle gesture, "for the reason that I have no idea whatsoever. That'struth, really. I simply know that you are to report to Squadron LeaderParkinson's base. What happens after that, I haven't the faintest idea."

  "A bit queer and very hush-hush, for fair," Freddy Farmer grunted, andscowled at the opposite wall.

  "That's the blasted war for you," the Group Captain chuckled. "Nothingmeans very much until after it's happened. However, much as the R.A.F.would like to have you back in its membership, I do not believe that isto be in your case. As I said, or should have said, neither of you wasbrought back to England for anything of the usual sort. A blind blokecan see that it's for some very important reason. And certainly mostsecretive, too."

  "You're telling us?" Dave groaned, forgetful for the moment of theother's senior rank. "It's plenty secret, and how! Freddy and I havebeen guessing our heads off since the start of this business, andneither of us can come up with anything that even seems close!"

  "Phew, yes!" Freddy breathed heavily. "We Britishers are very good atthe hush-hush business, but the Yanks are certainly going us one betterthis time. And if I don't get some kind of an inkling soon, I'll begoing balmy."

  "Well, I wish I could help you out, but I can't," the Group Captain saidwith a sympathetic laugh. "Sometimes, though, it's best not to know whatone's in for--until it happens."

  The somber note in the other's voice sent a little icy chill ripplingthrough Dave. True enough, Freddy and he certainly hadn't come over toEngland just to have a good time. They had come over to take part insome Commando operation. That much Major Barber had admitted. But--andit was a big but--he had said they were to handle an extra, a veryspecial job. What job? What kind of a job? Unfortunately, there justwasn't any answer to that one. The answer would be theirs--in the nearfuture. Perhaps!

  "I get what you mean, sir," Dave said to the Group Captain with a faintgrin. "And maybe you're right, sir. But--well, just the same I don't gomuch for this sitting on pins and needles stuff. I think I'd ratherknow, and get my worrying over with first. As you say, though, that'swar."

  "Quite," the senior officer grunted, and got up from his chair. "Solet's leave it at that, what, and have a bite to eat?"

  "Absolutely, sir!" Freddy cried, springing to his feet. "No sensefighting a war on an empty stomach, if you don't have to."

  "Just name one time when yours was empty," Dave laughed.

  "Right now!" the English youth snapped, and gave him a scornful look.

  They followed the Group Captain out and over to the officers' mess.There they ate their fill, and when the senior officer had taken hisdeparture they went outside and started wandering around the field.Their legs were still a little stiff from the Atlantic crossing, so alittle exercise wouldn't do either of them any harm. At the end of anhour or so they had had enough. They hunted up a hutment orderly, andwere shown a couple of bunks where they could catch up on a little muchneeded sleep and rest.

  It was late in the afternoon when the orderly awakened them. He toldthem that there had been two raid alarms sounded while they had beenasleep. However, no Jerry planes had put in an appearance.

  "The Commandant told me to find out when you would be taking off,Captains," the orderly added later. "There're two Spitfires just ferriedhere from the factory, waiting on the tarmac. The Commandant says as howhe would like
you to deliver them to the squadron you're going to. ShallI have them revved up?"

  Dave dug sleep seeds out of his eyes and looked at Freddy. His pal didlikewise, and nodded.

  "Might as well," he grunted. "There's nothing more to be learned here.Might just as well get on with it."

  "Check," Dave said, and turned to the orderly. "Do that, will you, andthanks."

  Half an hour later the two air aces were out on the tarmac, and ready toleave. They were about to climb into their Spitfires when Group CaptainFarnsworth came over to them.

  "Just wanted to say goodbye," he smiled, "and wish you all kinds ofluck."

  "Thank you, sir," Dave grinned. "And we're sorry about those two Jerryplanes. I promise that next time we won't be so selfish."

  "Oh, quite!" Freddy Farmer echoed.

  The Group Captain chuckled and made a little gesture with both hands.

  "That's quite all right, chaps," he said. "All is forgiven, I assureyou. Frankly, next time--if there is one--I hope you get double thenumber of blighters. Well, goodbye. Thumbs up, and all that sort ofthing. I certainly envy you."

  Dave shot him a sharp questioning look, but the Group Captain shook hishead firmly.

  "No, I really don't know a thing, Dawson," he said. "On my word, Idon't. I'm just imagining, that's all. And there's blessed little else aGroup Captain can do in this crazy war. Well, on with it, you chaps. Andluck, again."

  Dave and Freddy thanked him for his good wishes, shook hands, and thenlegged up into the pits of their Spitfires. They taxied out to the farend of the main runway, and waited there with props idling over for thesignal from the Operations Tower. It came, and they gunned their enginestogether and went rocketing forward.

  "Well, here goes for the next stop," Dave grunted as he lifted hisSpitfire clear, and nosed up and around toward the overcast sky. "And Isure would like to know what is the next move in this cockeyedarrangement of things?"

  He spoke the question aloud, but the gods of war in their high placesrefused to answer. They simply nudged each other, grinned, and winked.

 

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