Jet Plane Mystery

“And we’d better not let them,” Stew warned. “You remember the orders—no dogfights with those cookies today.”

The first faint streaks of dawn were showing when a gray bulk close to the surface of the sea loomed up ahead of them.

“There!” Jack exclaimed. “Take a good look! It’s the Philippines!”

“My first glimpse of the islands,” Stew murmured with a touch of reverence. “But not my last, I hope.”

By studying his chart Jack learned that the land ahead was the north entrance to a deep bay.

“We follow the shore line until we are at the center of the bay. The target is right there.”

They dropped to ten thousand feet, then slowed down their plane and zoomed along over the shore line.

They arrived at the target too soon for a clear view. For all that, they found something to do.

“There’s a nasty little Zero on our tail,” Stew exclaimed. “Whatever shall we do?” he asked in mock terror. “It’s wicked to fight, besides, we promised not to.”

“Put on your oxygen mask,” Jack commanded with a grin. “We’ll go up into the attic and talk it over.”

They began climbing steeply. The Zero pilot came after them. They left his plane far behind.

“Not so fast!” Stew warned. “He’ll get discouraged.”

As if experiencing high altitude blues, Jack slowed his plane down to a crawl. Encouraged, the Jap put on full speed and came on for the kill.

But Jack, as if by some miracle, put on a burst of speed to climb higher.

This was repeated four times. Jack was beginning to wonder whether he was playing the game too long with a plane he did not entirely understand, when something appeared to go wrong with the enemy plane. It began to wobble, then to smoke. It lost altitude, then began turning over slowly. Faster—faster—faster it turned as it fell, until at last it was a mere black spot.

“I think,” said Jack, “that this jet plane is the berries. And now,” he added in the next breath, “we’ll just go down and see what ships there are in the harbor. Get your pencil ready. Make the count as accurate as possible. Can’t tell about those Japs. They might not give us another chance.”

“Accurate it shall be,” Stew replied grimly.

“All right, here we go.” Jack tilted his plane. “We’ll come down so fast they can’t intercept us. We’ll level off at two thousand and skim along over the port and the bay. After that we’ll circle until the Zeros get tough, then we’ll reach for the stars.” They were away, with their plane singing a lovely tune as they rocketed downward toward the port and the sea. To Stew, the speed of their downward course was breath-taking, staggering; but he hung on, offered up a prayer, and before he knew it they were leveling off, gliding away, while he caught his breath at sight of the ships in the harbor.

“Boy! We caught them with their steam down!” he exclaimed.

His pencil was racing—two flat-tops, one big battle wagon, five cruisers, seven destroyers. In vain did he try to count the cargo ships and tankers anchored in the harbor or tied up to the docks. “Fifty or more,” he scribbled.

“Ready for action!” Jack barked. Ten Zeros were coming at them. Stew threw back his canopy, gripped his gun and waited.

Once again Jack started climbing. But two Zeros were above and others to the right of him. Like football players rushing to stop an end run, they were coming in fast.

“Got to fight,” Jack decided. He headed straight for the nearest enemy, caught him on the side, gave him a burst of fire, then plunged down to go under him. Luck was with him, for he came up behind the other plane. The Zero fled without a shot.

Jack did not follow, but again started climbing.

“What a pity! Such easy meat!” Stew exclaimed.

“No dog fights!” Jack reminded him. “Besides, there are eight more Zeros coming up.”

“Let them come!” said Stew. “I’ll drop the belly tank on them.”

That was just what he did. When both they and their pursuers were well up in the substratosphere, he let go the empty tank and, with luck, tipped the wing of a fighter, sending him whirling over and over.

“Oh!” he breathed ten seconds later as the enemy righted himself. “We get no medals for belly tanks.”

As they climbed higher and higher their pursuers one by one dropped back, giving up the race. At last none remained.

“Their ships just can’t take it,” Jack explained. “Something freezes up and then they’re sunk.”

“Yes, or their propellers find the air too thin,” Stew added.

Tilting his plane, Jack drifted slowly downward while Stew reported to the radio cabin of the Black Bee.

“Great work,” was the commendation they received. “Think you can get down there once more for a check?”

“Can we go down again?” he asked Jack.

“Down to five thousand,” was the quick reply. “More would be suicide. You can use binoculars.”

Down they went once more with the jet plane singing its wild song.

Stew had just completed his check at five thousand when Jack warned: “Here they come!”

This time he was above the enemy. When he had gained sufficient altitude, he leveled off and soared away.

“That’s all,” he exclaimed. “Have to go back for more fuel.”

Once again Stew radioed his report, with corrections. Then he settled back with a sigh. “Boy! What a life!” He was at ease, but not for long.

CHAPTER XXVIII
THE JET PLANE’S LAST BATTLE

They met a lone U. S. scout plane from another carrier and dipped a wing in salute.

They had covered more than half the way to the task force when, coming from behind a very small cloud, Jack let out a howl:

“Torpedo planes in formation, dead ahead!”

“Enemy planes?” Stew rubbed his eyes.

“Easy. They slipped out of the harbor during our stratosphere battles.” Jack gave his ship the rein.

The situation was clear. For many weeks Jap task forces in harbors had been refusing to fight. It had been assumed that they would once again attempt flight. But at least one carrier had sent out its torpedo planes to do battle.

“Get on the radio! Quick!” Jack exclaimed. “Not a second to lose!”

Almost the next breath Stew was droning into his mike: “Twelve enemy torpedo planes approaching task force at top speed. Should strike soon.”

His report exploded on the Black Bee like a bombshell. Having received his earlier report, all carriers had dispatched their dive bombers and torpedo planes, with fighter escort, to the enemy harbor, where they hoped to wreak havoc on the fleet before it could escape.

On the Black Bee there remained only a small fighter squadron under Kentucky’s command. Half the fighters were on patrol duty, the rest were on the flight deck.

“If those torpedo planes hit us it’s just going to be too bad!” Ted exclaimed as he and Kentucky raced for their planes.

In the meantime Jack and Stew were shadowing the enemy squadron.

“It’s no use taking them on alone,” Jack said.

“I should say not! They’ve got a dozen Zeros protecting them,” Stew agreed.

“But if they go after the Black Bee,” Jack added, “we’re bound to step in and do our bit.”

“And the Black Bee it is!” Stew added a moment later when the powerful planes, as if drawn by a magnet, headed straight for the master prize, the Black Bee, largest ship in the convoy.

“You’ve got to hand it to ’em!” Stew exclaimed. “They’ve got plenty of nerve!”

“Lot of good it will do them!” Jack growled. “I’ll wreck this jet plane in a suicide dive before I’ll see the old Black Bee sunk!”

Silently Stew offered up a prayer for the Black Bee, and for Jack as well.

“Here comes Kentucky and his gang!” he exclaimed exultantly.

“Too few and too late,” Jack growled. “Curse the Japs!” Meanwhile Jack was edging in closer to the approaching Japs. Stew was holding his breath, for he knew well that if the Zeros turned to go after him, Jack would not run for the stratosphere this time, but would stay and fight.

Kentucky, with his small band of fighters, came zooming on in formation. The Zeros dashed ahead to engage them. At once there was a whirling battle, as hard to watch as a three-ring circus. Three fighters, Kentucky, Ted, and Red, remained in formation. When a Zero went after them it was like hitting a stone wall. Three Zeros went down in smoke. But the deadly torpedo planes roared on.

Now, shaking themselves free from the Zeros, Kentucky’s three zoomed aloft to come in behind the torpedo planes. Striking the last of these a slanting blow, they sent it whirling and rolling toward the sea. Two others followed in quick succession.

By this time the torpedo planes were nearing the Black Bee. Ack-acks and pom-poms began pouring bursting shells at them. Two were downed before they dropped their tin fish. But the third, seeming to bear a charmed life, came straight on. It dropped its fish, then zoomed aloft.

With sinking heart Jack saw its torpedo tear a gaping hole in the Black Bee’s side.

“Got to get into this!” he growled. Screaming aloft he raced at tremendous speed past the enemy planes, then whirling, came at the next torpedo plane in line.

Just as he prepared to brave his own ship’s fire, the enemy plane blew up. A shell from the ship had gotten her.

“Good work!” he exclaimed, once again roaring aloft.

Other torpedo planes were coming in. Kentucky’s trio was strafing them, but still they came.

“Only one hit so far. They’re thinning!” Jack exclaimed. “If my—”

“There! That’s the one! We’ve got to get that one!”

Once again the Jap came whirling in. This time nothing stopped the enemy, that is, nothing but the fire from Jack’s twin guns. The big plane nosed down into the sea.

“That’s got them!” Jack breathed deeply as he passed out of range of the Black Bee’s fire.

“Ted crashed!” Stew declared. “I saw him go down. Not a bad crash, but his ship’s gone.”

“Where?” Jack demanded.

“Over there to the right.”

The jet plane banked, then sped away.

“There he is!” Stew exclaimed.

A moment more and Jack’s plane was taxiing in close to Ted’s wrecked fighter.

Ted sat astride the fuselage, which was all but covered with water.

“Are you hurt?” Jack asked.

“Not—not so bad,” Ted replied, hesitatingly. “Sort of got a bump or two.”

“Climb over and help him onto our plane,” Jack said. Stew was on the sinking plane in an instant. A moment more and they were rising from the water.

Nearing the Black Bee, Jack signaled that he had a wounded man and was coming aboard. He got the all-clear at once.

The first person to reach the plane was Mary. She had seen it all. There was a look on her face that Jack had never seen there before as she called, “Ted! Is he badly injured?”

“He’ll pull through,” Jack admitted. “But why only Ted? Can’t you give another fellow a smile?”

“Jack, I could kiss you for saving Ted,” she exclaimed. And that was just what she did.

In landing on the sea, and again on the deck of the Black Bee, Jack had experienced unusual difficulty in controlling the jet plane, but was at the time too excited to think much about it. When at last he had time to look the plane over, he found that it had, at some time during the fight, been seriously damaged.

“You picked up some of our flak,” was the verdict of the commander of the deck crews. “That plane’s through.”

When Jack came to his own commander to ask for another plane, the Commander put a hand on his shoulder and in a gruff voice said:

“Forget it, boy! You’ve done your part. You’ve pitched five innings, and never a man got to first base. It’s you for the showers.”

And so it was showers for Jack and Stew, and sick bay for Ted, with a smiling Mary hovering over him. But the battle went on. Every carrier sent its full quota of dive bombers and torpedo planes to sink ships in the harbor and wreck shore installations. Speedy cruisers, destroyers, and PT boats came in next to put on the finishing touches. After these came troop transports and landing barges. Marines and GI Joes swarmed ashore by the thousands. By late afternoon they were ten miles inland. The battle was won.

That was not all. They reached the prison camp, knocked down the gates, and set free more than five hundred prisoners who had not looked on the Stars and Stripes for two long years.

Two hundred of the prisoners were put aboard the Black Bee, for she would be the first ship to reach Pearl Harbor. The hole in her side had been shored up, making her safe for a journey, but not for combat.

As Jack watched the prisoners—ragged, unshaven, and lean-faced, with hungry looks in their eyes—line up on the deck, he recalled a song he had sung back in school days:

Others watched too. All of a sudden Mary let out a cry: “Tom! Tom! Oh! My dear!” She threw her arms about a slim, bearded youth who could have been but a boy on Bataan.

“It’s her brother,” Jack whispered to Stew. “She told me about him. War is wonderful,” he murmured. “Wonderful and terrible.”

The Black Bee held her position for the night. Early next morning, while Jack was pacing the deck, he saw a small craft flying the Union Jack come alongside. A rope ladder was let down and two men climbed aboard. One of the two men glanced about the deck. When his eyes fell on Jack, he said:

“Ah! There you are!” Staring, Jack made no reply. Then suddenly he recognized the men. They were the British pair he had first seen with the jet plane.

“We’ve come for our jet plane,” the man explained, advancing. “Those bloody Nazis and Japs stole her from us. We went after them with a boatload of fighting men, only to find that they were all dead and that you had gone off with our plane. But now here we are. Thanks for saving our plane, old boy! That was bully!”

“Oh! Gee!” Jack exclaimed. “Somebody’s always taking the joy out of life! I suppose there’s no way I can talk you out of it?”

“Not a chance,” was the smiling answer. “You see, this jet plane idea was all worked out in England. Then the United States asked for a chance to develop it. They were given the right and manufactured a few of them for experimental purposes. Australia asked for one of these and got it. My partner and I were given the task of testing the plane. We were traders before the war and so had a few caches of kerosene and other trade goods scattered among the islands.”

“That’s why you were on our island,” said Jack.

“Exactly why. But those Germans surprised us while we were on another island, and hijacked our plane. Now I’m afraid we’ll have to ask to have it returned. However, we’ve brought you a consolation award.”

“What’s that?” Jack stared.

“Twenty sacks of first-class mail for the men on your carrier. There should be a letter or two for you in that lot.”

“Oh, a dozen, I hope!” Jack exclaimed. “We haven’t had any mail for a month.”

It turned out that there were fifteen letters for Jack. The one he prized most came from Patsy. In part it ran:

Oh, Jack! Do take care of yourself and come back soon. It’s only since you’ve been gone that I’ve learned how much you mean to my young life. You’re the only boy I ever really cared for, and the only one I ever shall.

“Boy!” Jack exclaimed. “That fixes things just about hunkydory! ‘Take good care of yourself.’ That’s just what I’ve been doing. ‘Come back soon.’ Wouldn’t I love it! Even just for a day!”

Did a good gremlin whisper, “Sooner than you think”? If he did, he spoke the truth. The old Black Bee had been tied to the repair dock at Pearl Harbor for three days. Ted, who was practically himself again, and Mary, who was enjoying a new lease on life, had been making good use of the Hawaiian moonlight. One morning Jack and Stew were taking in the sights, when Jack was called back to the ship by his commander.

“Get your things together,” the Commander ordered. “You’re going back to the States by plane.”

“What’s that, sir?” Jack stared. “What have I done now?”

“Plenty!” The Commander smiled. “It happens you’re the only living man who has flown a jet plane in actual combat! Since our people are soon to put this new type of plane into production—”

“They want my expert advice, sir?” Jack laughed. “Why not, sir? It will be a real pleasure!”

“You leave by plane in three hours, so you’d better start packing. Good-by and good luck.” The Commander extended his hand. “The Black Bee will be shipshape about thirty days from now. We shall hope to have you back by then. And if you can talk them out of about ten of those jet planes for our carrier, I’ll recommend your promotion to a Lieutenant’s rank.”

“Then I’m as good as a Lieutenant right now, sir!”

Jack’s arm went up in a snappy salute and, executing a right-about-face, he went off to pack; though he hated the thought of leaving the Black Bee and all the splendid men aboard, he could not still the song in his heart as he visioned the excitement of his next adventure.

Transcriber’s Notes

• Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.
• In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)
• Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and dialect unchanged.