CHAPTER TEN

_Freddy Stubs His Toe_

MAJOR LARKIN, Commandant of the Albuquerque Air Base, was the kind of a man who looked as if he had been cut out of solid granite, and fitted up with coiled steel springs. And under the silver wings on his tunic was a row of decoration ribbons that proved he was also the kind of a man who lived up to his looks. But the smile of greeting he gave to Dave and Freddy was genuine enough, and his hand shake was warm and friendly.

“Assigned for duty with the Ninety-Sixth in the Canal Zone, eh?” he said, and tapped the official orders on his desk. “Well, that’s a great spot for flying. A fine bunch of boys down there, too. Wish I were going along with you. Well, get an extra U-boat for me, will you?”

“We’ll do our best, sir,” Dave said with a grin. “And--well, when do we leave, sir?”

“Anxious to get going, eh?” the Base Commandant echoed with a chuckle. “Well, tomorrow morning. A half dozen ferry bombers are sitting down here for refueling tomorrow. Then from here to Brownsville, Texas. And then the water jump to the Canal Zone. Will that be okay with you two? That’s the fastest service I can give you, to the Canal Zone by ferry bomber.”

Dave and Freddy exchanged startled glances. It wasn’t usual for high ranking officers to ask if such and such a thing were okay. Major Larkin saw the exchange of looks and chuckled softly.

“I read all the papers, and of course the communiques,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Seems to me I recall something about two lads named Dawson and Farmer doing a pretty good job against the Japs trying to break up that Marshall Islands show we had a while back. And I think I remember, too, that long before that those same two did all right on a couple of R.A.F. Intelligence jobs. But of course, it could have been two other fellows.”

Dave and Freddy grinned, and then Dave nodded.

“That’s right, sir,” he said. “It was two other fellows. We’re joining Ninety-Six to take a couple cracks at U-boats in the Caribbean.”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe, whatever it is,” Major Larkin laughed. Then, as his face became just a little grave, he said, “But I wish you all the luck in the world with those--U-boats. I’m not connected with Intelligence, but rumors get around, you know. It’s an odds-on bet that something is going to pop down there. I only hope and pray that you and the others will be able to slap the cover on pronto.”

“We’ll do our best, sir,” Dave repeated mechanically. “But as you never can tell what will be a help, I’d like to ask, what about the rumors you’ve heard, sir? Anything special about any of them?”

The Albuquerque Base Commandant scowled out the window of his office, and absently cracked the knuckles of his left hand with his right.

“Nothing that isn’t public property,” he said. “Just the usual rumors about an impending attack on the Canal.”

“Why, sir?” Freddy asked. “Why an _impending_ attack on the Canal?”

“An obvious military operation,” the Major replied with a gesture. “And impending because it hasn’t been made long before this. That Canal isn’t closed up for the duration, you know. We’re making twenty-four hour a day use of it. And it isn’t a bunch of canoes that are going through it on their way to Australia, and India, and the Middle East.”

“Then you think the Japs are planning another Pearl Harbor in the Canal Zone, sir?” Freddy pressed.

The Major looked at him and grinned.

“What do you think?” he countered. “They’d certainly love to cut that section of the supply line, wouldn’t they?”

“Oh, quite, sir,” Freddy said with a nod. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he added, “But I’m afraid, sir, that I don’t agree with you.”

“He’s like that, sir,” Dave said with a chuckle. “An awful stubborn guy with his ideas. And you’d be surprised how often he hits the nail on the head. Yes, sir! Freddy’s a whole lot more than just a pukka fighting pilot.”

“Oh, I say, drop it, will you!” Freddy growled as a flush flooded his cheeks. “Everybody has ideas and opinions of his own, you know. What Dawson really means, sir, is that I haven’t sense enough to keep mine to myself. But we must be taking up your valuable time, sir.”

“Not a bit of it!” Major Larkin said, giving Freddy a searching look. “You don’t agree with me, so that makes me curious. I’d like to know your opinion, really. Why don’t you think the Japs would like to close the Canal?”

“I didn’t say that, sir,” the English born ace replied quickly. “They’d love to, no end. I simply mean that they wouldn’t attempt it. Too far to come, too great a cost for the small amount of damage they’d do. It stands to reason that you Americans aren’t ever going to let another Pearl Harbor happen any place. Oh, the Japs would love to do it, but they can’t. And I fancy they know that better than we do.”

“Then, personally, you don’t expect any attack on the Canal?” Major Larkin murmured with a smile. “The rumors are just hot air?”

“On the contrary, I do expect an attack, sir,” Freddy Farmer said soberly. “But not by the Japs. By the Nazis. In a way they have far more to gain by such an attack than the Japs.”

“How’s that?” Dave broke in. “Make that a little clearer, will you, Freddy?”

“Oh, never mind,” the English youth said, and shrugged. “It’s just a lot of words, and probably not very interesting, or enlightening. Let’s get going, shall we, Dave?”

“Not yet,” Major Larkin said with a grin. “I’m giving you an order, Captain Farmer. Answer Dawson’s question. I want to hear it.”

“Well, sir,” Freddy began, after fixing his eyes on a point on the desk, and holding them there, “the answer is Russia, in my humble opinion. Hitler wants Japan to attack Russia from the east. Such an attack would simplify his problem enormously. But before Japan will tackle that kind of a job, Hitler has got to show that he in turn will help Japan. He’s been doing it a little with his intensified U-boat campaign along the Atlantic seaboard, and in the Caribbean. But that is not enough, and--well, perhaps Japan has told him so. It is Japan who is holding large British forces in India, forces that could be well used in Egypt. Before Japan does anything more to help Hitler, the Nips want something in return from him. So--the Panama Canal. If Hitler can plug that up he will have done Japan a tremendously important favor. That’s the way I look at it.... But I say! Let’s drop this, shall we? I’m probably just talking silly rot.”

“You aren’t, Farmer,” Major Larkin said, and gave him a look of frank admiration. “And you are most certainly one of the reasons!”

Freddy looked puzzled, and blinked.

“Reasons, sir?” he echoed.

Major Larkin smiled and nodded.

“Exactly,” he said. “One of the reasons why there’ll always be an England! Well, I’ll be seeing you two later at mess.”

The two youths saluted and went outside into the sunshine. Freddy’s face was on fire with a blush, but there was an intensely pleased look in his eyes. Dave glanced sidewise at him and chuckled softly.

“So you won’t talk, huh?” he grunted. “Boy! Did you lay the words right down the groove! Pal, I’m right proud of you, I am!”

“Oh, come off it!” Freddy growled, but the pleased smile was still on his lips. “Major Larkin’s probably laughing his head off, right now.”

“No he isn’t,” Dave said solemnly. “And neither am I. As I remarked in there, you usually smack the nail right on the head. And I think you got dead center again this time. It was okay, Freddy. There’s just one question you didn’t answer. And I sure wish you would. It would help you and me a lot to know the answer.”

“And the question?” Freddy demanded, and shot him a suspicious look. “An impossible one to answer, no doubt?”

“How--” Dave said, and there was no kidding in his face--“how do they figure to plug up the Canal?”

“An impossible question, as I suspected,” Freddy said, but there was no scorn in his voice. “Yes, how? And will we find out?”

Dave’s lips came together to form a thin grim line. He unconsciously clenched his two fists and squinted narrow-eyed ahead.

“We’ll find out!” he grated softly. “We’ve got to! But--but will we find out _in time_! Seven-Eleven. You know, Freddy, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to meet anybody as much as I want to meet this mysterious bird they call Seven-Eleven!”

“Quite, me too!” the English youth answered. “But speaking of meeting people, right now I’d much rather meet the mess cook here. Feel like I haven’t eaten for hours. What say we try to get a bite or two of lunch, eh?”

“Freddy Farmer of the mile wide, and deep, stomach!” Dave sighed. “Okay, or you’ll be weeping on my shoulder from here on in. That’s the Officer’s Mess over there. Chase along. I’ll be with you in a couple of minutes. It just occurred to me that we’d better let Colonel Welsh know that we’ve arrived. Probably those two agents of his will tell him. But I’ll trot over and tell them to be sure to do that little thing.”

“Right-o,” Freddy said. “And I say, take a final look in both cockpits, just to see if we left anything behind, will you?”

“That, too,” Dave said with a nod, and swerved over toward the hangar line.

When he reached the Vultee the two agent-mechanics were nowhere to be seen. He climbed up and had a good look into both cockpits, but he failed to find anything that belonged to either Freddy or himself. Then, on second thought, he began giving the entire plane and engine a thorough look-see inspection to see if other lucky bullets had done it any damage. He felt very guilty about the two bullet holes in the fuselage, and he wanted to make sure that the plane wouldn’t be returned to its owner with any other damage that had been overlooked.

A fifteen minute inspection, however, brought to light no further evidence of the air battle, so he turned away and headed over to the check-in office. The young Air Corps lieutenant wasn’t there. A sergeant was in charge, and he gave Dave a respectful nod as the pilot entered.

“Yes, Captain?” he inquired politely.

“Captain Farmer and I just pulled in from Frisco Base,” Dave said. “I’d like word sent back that we arrived. Do you send that sort of thing out, or do I go to the operations officer?”

“We send it out from here, sir,” the sergeant said. Then, after thumbing through his book of records, he added, “Frisco has been notified, Captain. Half an hour ago, by Second Lieutenant Miller, who was on duty.”

“Okay, thanks,” Dave said with a grin, and turned away. “I just wanted to be sure that--”

He cut the rest off short as he heard the clanging of the field ambulance bell. He turned all the way around and snapped a look out onto the field. There wasn’t any crash out there, nor was there any plane coming in that looked as if it were in trouble. He shrugged, made a face at his own nervousness and started down the hangar line toward the Officers’ Mess. It wasn’t until he had passed a line of bombers that he was able to see the ambulance. It had come to a stop in front of the Officers’ Mess. There was a small group of uniformed men gathered about.

An eerie feeling of terror suddenly struck Dave, and he broke into a run. He pounded over the one hundred and fifty yards of flying field ground in less time than it takes to tell about it. When he reached the fringe of the group and peered past them and down at the huddled figure on the ground, his heart shot up into his mouth and choked off the cry that tried to get by. It was Freddy Farmer on the ground. His eyes were closed, his face was white, and there was blood on the left side of his head just above the ear. One look, and then Dave was through the group and on his knees beside Freddy.

“What happened?” he demanded of anybody who might have the answer.

“I’m not sure,” spoke up a pilot captain who had just a touch of grey in his otherwise jet black hair. “I was just coming out of the Mess, and saw him headed over this way at a pretty fast clip. He tripped on a stone, started to save himself, and then spun around and went flat as something smacked him. Looks like a bullet crease to me.”

“And not bad,” said a field medico in white. “Just nicked him, fortunately. Look, he’s coming around now. Hold still, son. Just relax while I swab this a bit and stick something on it.”

Freddy had opened his eyes, and was trying to struggle up, but the field medico gently forced him back on the ground, and went to work on the bullet crease. Freddy’s eyes met Dave’s, but he didn’t seem to recognize his pal for a second or two. Then recognition came in a flash, and he grinned.

“Hello, Dave,” he said. “What happened? What am I doing here?”

“By rights you should be praying your thankfulness,” Dave told him with a grin. “It seems you got clipped by a bullet. But you had stubbed your toe first. That saved you. How do you feel?”

“Why, right as rain!” Freddy replied, and gave the medico an annoyed look. “A bit of an ache, but that’s all. A bullet, you say? What bullet, and who shot at me?”

“Nobody shot at you, I don’t guess,” the jet black-haired pilot captain said with a smile. “We’ve got a rifle and pistol target range over there. I guess it was a ricochet bullet that nicked you. But that still makes you one lucky lad. And I’m not kidding!”

“A ricochet!” Dave echoed sharply, and stared at the pilot hard. “You mean this sort of thing happens often?”

“No, I don’t mean it happens often!” the other replied, and returned his steady stare. “It hasn’t happened once in the year I’ve been here. What are you driving at? You think somebody took a deliberate shot at your buddy?”

Dave popped open his mouth, but checked what he wanted to say in time. Instead, he grinned and shook his head.

“No, of course not,” he said. “We only just arrived. Don’t know anybody here. Why should anybody?”

“That’s what I mean,” the other pilot captain grinned, and gestured with his hands.

By then the medico had finished with Freddy, and helped him up on his feet. As soon as he was upright the color came back into Freddy’s face, and he seemed none the worse for his little adventure--that is, save for the patch on the side of his head over his left ear.

“Just take it easy for a little while, Captain, and you’ll be as good as new,” the medico advised. Then with a grin as he dumped his stuff into his bag and snapped it shut, “Sorry I couldn’t give you a ride. Maybe next time, though.”

“Thank you, no!” Freddy grinned back at him. “I detest ambulances. Something too definite about them, you know.”

“And how I know!” the medico grunted, and climbed into the ambulance. “Well, it broke the routine, anyway.”

The ambulance drove away, and the group slowly broke up, leaving Dave and Freddy alone.

“Well, shall we eat, eh?” Freddy said.

“You’re okay, that’s a cinch,” Dave growled, but softened it with a grin. “But, boy! My heart’s just going back into place. Let’s get out of the open spaces. A ricochet? Nuts! Somebody on that target range got off the target quite a bit, and took a bead on you, Freddy.”

“I think so, too!” the English youth replied as his eyes flashed fire. “Never mind lunch. Let’s go hunt out the blighter. I’ve got a bit I could say to him--and do, too!”

“No, we eat,” Dave said firmly, and took hold of Freddy’s arm. “It stands to reason he’s not there waiting for us. And the sooner we get under cover, the better. No sense inviting pot shots. But I’m sure thankful you have big feet!”

“I’ll remember that when I get my strength back!” Freddy Farmer snapped, and allowed Dave to lead him into the Officers’ Mess.