Barry Blake of the Flying Fortress Read online

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  PATCHED WINGS IN THE DAWN

  The trail was easy to follow in the moonlight. It followed the creekfor about a mile, and ended at the edge of a huge open space. This hadbeen, a few hours before, the Jap airfield. Now, in the dim light, theplace looked more like the cratered landscape of the moon than anythingon earth.

  “There,” said Soapy Babbitt, pointing to a heap of coral blocks andrubble, “must be what’s left of the operations building. Probably theradio was there, too.”

  “What happened to the planes?” queried Chick Enders. “There must havebeen a lot of ’em caught on the ground, but I can’t see more than twoor three wrecks from here.”

  “I guess our bombs pulverized them,” Fred Marmon said. “Boy! That blitzcertainly was thorough. It’s hard to see how any Japs lived through it.”

  “Some of the barrack buildings around the edge of the field escaped theworst of the bombing, no doubt,” Barry Blake observed. “We’ll circlethe place now and see if anything is left. Keep your pistols ready,fellows. If there should be any wounded Japs left, they’ll open fire onus.”

  Blasted, leafless trees that rimmed the field bore ghastly witness tothe size of the bombs. Moonlight made the scene of destruction morehorrible, with shadows that both concealed and exaggerated. Severaltimes the searchers stumbled on fragments of bomb-torn corpses.

  One end of the field showed fewer bomb craters. It was here that anumber of _Mitsubishi_ bombers had been lined up when the blitz opened.Either they had been left there for servicing, or the Japs had felt sosecure that they didn’t bother to scatter their planes around the fieldat dispersal points.

  At first glance most of the bombers seemed to be intact. If that werethe case, a guard might have been left with them. So as not to walkinto a trap, Barry led his men into the jungle and approached theline-up from the rear.

  Two hundred feet back in the bush he came upon a frame building thatsagged drunkenly as if a giant hand had given it a push. The tin roofhad been blown off, and now lay upside down on a group of flattenedtents. The building had evidently quartered Jap officers, while thetents served as shelters for the enlisted personnel. There was no signof life in any of them—only half a dozen Japs killed by shrapnel.

  The planes, too, were unguarded. On closer inspection they proved to behopeless wrecks. Fragmentation bombs had riddled the bombers withshrapnel holes, torn off wings, ripped the thin-skinned fuselages.Strangely enough, only two ships at one end of the line had burned.

  “No wonder the Nip survivors cleared out!” Curly Levitt remarked.“There aren’t enough usable parts in the whole line-up to build half aplane, so far as I can see. Let’s cut a mast for the catamaran, and getback to the beach, skipper.”

  Barry Blake did not move. Deep in thought, he stood staring at thenearest bomber, which leaned crazily on one wheel and one wing tip.

  The plane’s left aileron dangled loosely. Its tail fin was smashed, andone of the elevators was gone completely. Great holes showed in thefuselage. The greenhouse was broken in. Yet something about the wreckappeared to fascinate the young pilot.

  “Curly,” he said soberly, “you’ve given me an idea. We _can_ build aplane with these parts, if the Japs will give us time. A few shellholes are nothing if the crate will fly. You fellows beat it back tothe beach and bring the others here. We’ll rig up sleeping quarters fortonight and begin work at crack of dawn.... Fred, you stay here withme. We’ll start looking these planes over now, by moonlight. It willsave time.”

  If the others had doubts that Barry’s scheme would work, they failed tomention them. The idea of flying home appealed so powerfully to theirminds that they would have backed a one-in-twenty chance of success.They headed for the creek trail in high spirits.

  When they returned, an hour later, Barry had good news to tell thewhole company. He and Fred had found two _Mitsubishi_ bombers withengines apparently unhurt and wings not too badly damaged, though thetail assemblies, fuselages and undercarriages were in sad shape. Agreater surprise was a two-place _Kawasaki_ fighter. Its greenhouse andrear fuselage were full of holes, but its working parts were undamaged.

  “Hap, you can take off first in that _Kawasaki_ with the two ladies,”Barry told his co-pilot. “The rest of us can rebuild one of the bombersand follow you in a day or two. Finding that fighter plane is a betterbreak than anything we’ve had yet.”

  “Humph!” snorted the bigger man. “It might be—if you could findsomebody else to fly it. But even then I have a hunch the girls wouldmake trouble. Claire wouldn’t leave without her father, and Dorawouldn’t leave without Claire. Of course neither Chick nor Curly nor Iwould leave without you, and nobody else except Crayle knows enough tohandle a plane; and so—”

  “Oh, drive it in the hangar, will you, Hap!” Barry said with a wrygrin. “I know when I’m licked. We’ll all have to wait till one of the_Mitsus_ is fixed, I suppose—and just hope that the Japs won’t be backbefore we get off. Come on—let’s see what sort of chow and sleepingequipment the Japs have left us.”

  In the Jap officers’ wrecked quarters they discovered a flashlight, andwith its help located other things. There were enough iron cot beds andfairly clean bedding to supply all the white members of the party. Bestof all, there was plenty of mosquito netting.

  The islanders found all they needed in the flattened tents. A quantityof canned beef and vegetables was also located, but everyone was tooweary to think of preparing food. As soon as three of the tents couldbe set up the whole crowd turned in to sleep.

  The next four days and nights were one long, frantic battle againsttime, heat, and mechanical difficulties that only desperate men couldhave solved. The men snatched an hour or two of sleep when they couldno longer keep awake. Even Crayle worked at filling in shell holes tomake a runway—not willingly, but in fear of punishment.

  The man’s reason was so warped that he regarded everyone with a sullenhatred. If he could have laid hands on a gun, anything might havehappened. His companions realized this and took special precautions.

  Nanu, the wounded native, was made custodian of the tommy-gun whileMickey Rourke was working. His instructions were to shoot Crayle ratherthan let him come near the weapon. The shell-shocked pilot was saneenough to realize that Nanu would obey orders to the letter. He made noopen break, but his eyes never lost their cunning look.

  The repairs to the least-damaged _Mitsubishi_ were completed by Fred,Soapy, and the two Fortress pilots within three days. As the workneared completion, the four men erected a camouflage of wreckage abovetheir plane, supporting the junk on a framework of poles. To a Jappilot flying overhead the restored _Mitsu_ would be visible only asanother hopeless ruin.

  At last the repair job was finished—even the radio which they darednot test. The weary mechanics filled the big bomber’s gas tanks withfuel from other wrecks. They tested her engines and that of the_Kawasaki_ fighter.

  It was planned that Hap Newton should fly alone in the latter. ReachingDarwin a little ahead of the _Mitsubishi_, he would take the risky jobof identifying himself. Once landed, he would prepare the airport’sdefenders for his friends’ arrival in a Jap bombing plane.

  One more day was needed to smooth a runway long enough for the bomber’stake-off. The thirteen able-bodied members of the party workedfeverishly, with shovels improvised from pieces of wreckage, to fill inthe last gaping bomb craters. The knowledge that at any time the Japsmight return in force was a spur to their bone-tired bodies. Only GlennCrayle stalled, when he thought he was not observed.

  By mid-afternoon one unfilled crater stood between them and freedom,and the workers, except Crayle, were all at the point of exhaustion.

  “We’ll lay off for an hour, friends,” Barry Blake croaked, as he wipeda dirty hand across his forehead. “Can’t afford to break down withsuccess almost in sight. A cool drink and a rest will help us to finishthe job by night....”

  He broke off as a distant hum of engines grew on the air.
/>   “Planes coming!” he yelled. “Take cover!”

  Dropping their tools, the little crowd staggered into the shelteringbush. As they flung themselves down, a squadron of _Mitsubishis_ sailedinto view. At twenty-thousand feet, they looked like small silverflying fish.

  Probably, Barry thought, they were scanning the island for signs ofenemy activity. He wondered if they would notice the smooth strip atthe edge of the bomb-pocked field.

  He was not left long in doubt. Three of the bombers peeled off andcircled down in wide, slow spirals. They were wary, those Jap pilots,of another Guadalcanal-style occupation. The newly smoothed runwaystrip must have looked to them exceedingly suspicious.

  A shout from Nanu at the other end of the runway rang above the droningof enemy engines. There was alarm in it, and pain. A cry from DoraWilcox echoed it.

  Barry sprang to his feet and raced through the bush, in the directionof the planes. Behind him he could hear his crew panting.

  Their progress was maddeningly slow, yet they dared not leave the bush.Once the enemy planes guessed their identity bullets would fly, andbombs would fall.

  “Crayle’s grabbed the tommy-gun, I’ll bet,” Chick Enders gasped as hefought to keep up with Barry. “The idiot _would_ pick a time like this.Oh-oh! There he is—in the—uh—_Kawasaki_!”

  The bomber’s team halted as Crayle saw them and swung his sub-machinegun to cover them.

  “Stay back!” he warned hysterically. “You can’t keep me here on theground while they’re dropping bombs on us. I’ll kill you if you comeanother step.... You, Nanu—walk that propeller around once again, orI’ll kill you, too. _Turn it, you fool!_”

  Nanu, sweating with the pain of his injured leg, grasped the_Kawasaki’s_ propeller and leaned his weight on it. Off balance, heslipped to his knees. The fall probably saved his life, for at thatmoment the engine coughed into life.

  Crayle did not wait for the engine to warm up.... Scarcely had Nanudragged himself out of the way of the wheels when they rolled forward.The _Kawasaki_ rushed down the runway trailing a cloud of dust. Hertail came up. Then, just as she reached the end of the strip somethingwent wrong.

  Either the plane had not gathered sufficient speed, or Crayle failed toease back on the stick soon enough. Instead of rising, the wheelsstruck the far edge of the unfilled bomb crater. The _Kawasaki_ wentend over end, with a rending crash.

  Fire burst from the center section. The whole plane exploded in a giantbloom of flame. Above it the Jap bombers zoomed, and spiralled upwardto join their formation. The Kawasaki’s futile attempt to take off hadat least convinced them that the field was not in enemy hands.

  Barry turned around to find Dora and Claire Barrows bandaging Nanu’sre-opened wound. They appeared far more concerned over the sufferingnative boy than about Glenn Crayle’s flaming death.

  “How soon do you think we can get Nanu to a hospital, Barry?” the girlmissionary queried anxiously. “This new loss of blood is likely tobring on a fever, and we haven’t a thing to treat it with.”

  The young skipper looked toward the _Kawasaki’s_ wreckage, blazing onthe other side of the last bomb crater.

  “We’ll have that hole filled before midnight, Dora,” he said wearily.“It will have to be Glenn Crayle’s grave. When the earth is smootheddown and the burned plane is hauled aside, there should be enoughrunway for the bomber. We’ll take off at dawn, and be over Port Darwinin two hours—if we’re not intercepted.”

  At breakfast time the next morning an excited radio officer telephonedthe O.C. at Port Darwin airfield.

  “Message just received for you, sir,” he reported. “It purports to besent by Lieutenant Barry Blake of the United States Army Air Forces,who’s been missing since the raid on Amboina. He says he is flying a_Mitsubishi_ bomber with his B-26 crew and seven refugees aboard andasks permission to come in.”

  “Barry Blake!” exclaimed the Australian colonel. “I should know thatname. There’s a Yankee captain having breakfast with me, who’s beentalking of little else. He came here with a fantastic notion that Blakewould pop up sooner or later. We’ll jog down to the radio room and letCaptain Tex O’Grady identify your mysterious pilot.”

  Not a trace of fog obscured the Australian coast as Barry Blake pickedout the rugged mass of Melville Island. The _Mitsu’s_ patched wingsglinted like silver in the early sunlight. Landing should be easy, butbefore giving permission, the O.C. had insisted on identifying thebomber’s crew by their voices. The Jap radio was tuned on the port’swave length.

  Without warning Tex O’Grady’s voice rang in the crew’s earphones.

  “Dawg-gone you, Barry,” it said. “Where did you Fortress men get theidea that you could desert _Sweet Rosy O’Grady_ and go gallivanting offwith a silly little B-26? No wonder you-all had to come home in a Japcrate! What happened, anyway?”

  “_Skipper!_” Barry shouted joyfully. “Where are you—at Port Darwin?What brought you here—”

  “It’s the Old Man himself!” gasped Curly Levitt.

  “Captain!” yelped Fred Marmon. “How are you, sir? And what’s the goodnews?”

  “Reef back, boys!” Tex O’Grady’s humorous drawl answered them. “I’m notanswering questions until you come in and we have a chance to talk. Butthe news is this: Your part in finding and helping to smash the big Japflotilla off New Guinea has won Barry a captain’s bars and the restsome decorations. And here’s the best little item of all, I reckon....”

  He paused briefly, as if trying to control a new huskiness in hisspeech.

  “You boys,” he continued, “have drawn a thirty-day furlough, and we’reall going—going home to the States in _Sweet Rosy O’Grady_, as soon asshe’s patched up enough to make the trip. Here’s Colonel Raymond with aword you’ve been waiting for.”

  Barry’s head felt queerly light, and the mention of “home” had broughta lump to his throat that would not go down. As if from a greatdistance he heard a strange voice speaking.

  “Permission to land is herewith granted,” the Australian O.C. said.“And may all your future landings be as happy as this one, _Captain_Barry Blake of the Flying Fortress!”

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  Transcriber’s note:

  Some punctuation errors and minor spelling errors have beencorrected without mention.

  A table of illustrations has been added immediately afterthe table of contents.

  page 11 - changed "goodnatured" to "good-natured" and page 22 - changed"good natured" to "good-natured" - other books in this series use"good-natured" consistently

  page 35 - changed “one hundred and eight-five” to “one hundred andeighty-five”

  page 159 - changed “Fortresses were now on the seene” to “Fortresseswere now on the scene”

  page 225 - changed “Dora Wilcox had pointed their top surfaces” to“Dora Wilcox had painted their top surfaces”

  page 232 - changed “island were the sight of” to “island were the siteof”