A Yankee Flier with the R.A.F. Read online

  CHAPTER V

  O'MALLEY BAGS A JERRY GUN

  No call came for Red Flight until late afternoon. Other flights roaredaway to strafe the French coast, or to meet incoming bomber formations,or to do scout duty; but Allison and his crew just sat around andgroused. O'Malley's good humor finally broke down and he began prowlingaround hurling choice Irish words at the mess crew.

  When the call did come, he was out of the room like a wild bushman. Bythe time Allison and Stan reached the cab rank, he was jerking his hatchcover into place and feeling out his Merlin.

  "You'd think the boy was off to raid Berlin," Allison said sourly. "Allwe have is a call from a few barges of coal."

  Red Flight roared out and up, heading toward the channel. Stan hadchecked his instruments carefully. Everything seemed to be in workingorder, though he could not be sure of his wing guns until he opened themup.

  "Keep in close," Allison's voice droned.

  They were up now and heading for the channel where a few big clouds hungover the sea. So far as Stan could see they were kings of the air andthere might have been no war on at all. Not a wing was in sight excepttheir own.

  "Red Flight, level off."

  They leveled off and headed for a big cloud. That seemed the most likelyhunting ground. The three Spitfires were not up high because the cloudswere hanging over the sea. Below, Stan saw the cause of their call.Seven of the foulest old tubs he had ever laid an eye on were churningand wallowing in the choppy sea. Their propellers thrashed the waterinto tawny foam. Their plates were scarred and patched with daubs ofvermillion. Red, rusty streams of water trickled down their sides. Sevenpiles of rust, grime and junk belching smoke like so many volcanoes.Coasters and not one of them over twelve hundred tons.

  The boats rode high and Stan decided they were making the run fromPortsmouth to London under ballast to pick up coal. Running what wassupposed to be a death channel the old tubs would slide under the bigcoastal guns of the Germans. In a few days they would plough back loadedwith coal. Their audacity made Stan grin. The British were certainly astubborn race of people and when they had a sea course marked out theystayed with it. A sleek gray destroyer nosed the string of ancient boatsalong like a nervous hound herding a flock of fat pigs.

  "Two bandits coming out of a cloud, quarter right," Allison's drawlannounced.

  Stan spotted the two Heinkel bombers as soon as Allison spoke. They wereslim-bodied, snaky-looking killers with long wings and widespread tailstructures. Their pilots hadn't seen the three Spitfires as yet, beingbusy spotting the sleek destroyer.

  When they did see the danger they zoomed up and laid over, plunging backinto the cloud. Stan drove straight after them because he was in thebest position. O'Malley swept around one side of the cloud and Allisonwent around the other.

  Stan had a chance to test his guns as his upward zoom rode him up on aghostly form ahead in the mist. The eight Brownings drilled furiously,in perfect timing. The Heinkel nosed down and vanished into the wall offog. Stan went down to see if he had done any damage.

  Breaking into the clear he saw blossoms of white silk dotting the greenof the sea. The bombers were gone but Stan knew from the number ofchutes floating down to the water that both Heinkels had been bagged.

  Below them two motor launches were slicing across the channel gettingset to pick up the Jerries and make them prisoners. Then he heardO'Malley's voice.

  "Sure, an' I'm thinkin' I see four Messers off the port wing."

  "Coming up with you," Allison called back. "Take them, Irisher."

  "Wilson coming up," Stan shouted into his flap mike.

  He went up and over a cloud and down on the other side. He saw O'Malleydrilling away to the south like an irate bumblebee. Close behind himstreaked Allison. Stan headed after them. Then Allison's voice came invery softly:

  "I think you're seeing things, Irisher."

  Stan grinned as he shoved the nose of the Spitfire down a little.O'Malley was duck hunting. He didn't aim to go back without some moreaction if he could help it.

  "Red Flight, come in. Red Flight, come in," droned a voice from thefield.

  "Red Flight in contact with bandits!" O'Malley roared back.

  "Red Flight, come in. Red Flight, come in," headquarters insisted.

  "Red Flight going into defense," Allison cut in.

  Stan's grin widened. Allison was going to see that O'Malley got his duckhunt. They roared on, swinging in a wide circle, beating upward again.O'Malley would have his way now. Allison couldn't argue withheadquarters listening in.

  Stan began to think they were stymied when all Hades broke loose fromabove. Out of nowhere five Messerschmitts came roaring down on them,three One-Nines and two One-Tens.

  "Prepare for attack. Peel off and take some altitude," Allison drawled.

  "Start peelin', darlin'," O'Malley shouted.

  They zoomed upward, spreading to let the attack slide past. The enemyscattered out and swooped to meet them. Stan saw O'Malley drive straightover a One-Nine almost ramming the Jerry, and missing him clean with aburst of fire. That was not like O'Malley.

  The Jerry banked and flipped over, thinking only of getting away beforeO'Malley cut back across him and sawed him in two parts; but O'Malleykept straight on. Stan picked up the One-Nine, scissoring off a wing tipand sending him wavering away toward the east.

  Stan watched O'Malley as the wild Irishman zoomed up over a One-Ten. TheMesserschmitt banked and tried to escape, but O'Malley was on him in areckless roaring dive. Stan shot over the two and saw the Jerry sprayO'Malley's ship with lead. Pieces of his hatch cover showered away likefeathers from a potted duck. Again O'Malley missed a perfect burst andcame up under the Jerry. He returned the compliment paid him by slicingthe top off the Messerschmitt's hatch cover. Stan knew the miss had beendeliberate. O'Malley never let one get away when he had a spot shot likethat.

  Then light dawned upon Stan. O'Malley was after the Jerry's gun. Allisonwas very busy himself and doing such a savage job that he was about toclear the air without Stan's help. Stan dived down to make the game oneagainst one for Allison. When he came up, O'Malley was on the tail ofthe Messerschmitt and bawling at Allison:

  "By the shades of St. Patrick, you keep out of this!"

  The Jerry was hurt, but not badly, and O'Malley had him on the run. Whenthe Jerry dived O'Malley was on his tail. He didn't shoot him down. Whenhe dropped off on one wing, peeling away under full throttle, O'Malleyhad him covered. Then Stan heard the Irisher yelling at the Jerry pilot.

  "Leave that gun like she is, you spalpeen, or I'll send you to thefishes!"

  Apparently the Jerry did not understand what O'Malley said, possibly hisradio wasn't set to pick up the transmitter of the Spitfire, but he didunderstand the short bursts of fire that clipped pieces out of variousparts of his ship. He headed the way the lank Irishman pointed and droveahead.

  Allison and Stan dropped in behind, letting O'Malley have his prize.Stan called to Allison:

  "Somebody ought to tip off the Ack-Ack boys or O'Malley may get a warmreception."

  "Let him show his stuff," Allison drawled and Stan thought he heard theFlight Lieutenant chuckle.

  The Messerschmitt ducked over the coast and down with O'Malley steeringhim expertly to the field. Bursts of gunfire began to blossom below andpuffs of white smoke broke around the Jerry and his pursuer.

  "They think O'Malley's Spitfire is a captured plane with a Jerry in it,"Stan muttered.

  O'Malley sent his catch down through the shellfire, twisting andturning. The Nazi pilot was an expert and wiggled through until they gotclose in, then the fire got so hot he and O'Malley had to hit for theceiling. They circled and were high up when Stan and Allison slid downthe field.

  Undaunted, O'Malley came in again and this time he sent his prizethrough the rain of exploding shells. The Messerschmitt rolled to a stopwith O'Malley close behind him. In a moment the flustered Jerry wasclimbing out of his shattered hatch with his hands elevated above hishead.
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  Ground men closed in around him, shouting and doing a war dance.O'Malley climbed out after removing part of the hatch cover from aroundhis neck. He strode to the Messerschmitt and bellowed at the ground men.

  "Git ye a hump on yerselves an' pull out that fore gun!"

  Four mechanics raced away to get tools while O'Malley stood guard overhis prize. He refused to let anyone touch the ship. A senior groundofficer came hurrying up and O'Malley gave him a sloppy salute. Theofficer snapped:

  "I'll take charge here now."

  "Ye'll do nothing of the sort," O'Malley shouted. "And as I live andbreathe them's Wing Commander Farrell's very orders!"

  The officer looked at the wild-eyed O'Malley and decided it would bebest to wait for reinforcements, possibly a Group Captain or an AirCommodore.

  "It's my job, you know, old man," he said but his tone had changed.

  "'Tis my job, me hearty," O'Malley assured him.

  The mechanics arrived and in a few minutes the fore gun was on theground at O'Malley's feet. It was so heavy he could not handle it. Heturned to the grinning Stan who was standing beside Allison.

  "Lend a hand so we can deliver this gadget before sundown."

  Stan and Allison stepped forward.

  "This is positively against regulations," the senior officer sputtered.

  "An' who, may I ask, bagged this here gun?" O'Malley demanded. "I may bebold, but I suggest ye give some attention to that Jerry waitin' overthere to be captured accordin' to regulations."

  The Jerry was standing with his arms still elevated. He was alone andunguarded.

  "And be lettin' O'Malley of Red Flight be knowin' where you put the bye.I aim to see that he has cigarettes and a few of the common comforts."O'Malley grinned at the Jerry. The youngster grinned back at him andsaluted stiffly.

  Dragging the gun between them, the three members of Red Flight stampedacross the field and barged past a startled sentry who was walking postoutside headquarters.

  Wing Commander Farrell was just finishing a flight report. His gray eyeswere hard and his mouth was drawn into a tight line. Coral Raid haddropped two bombers and three fighters. The credit side showed only onefighter and a Junkers. Farrell looked up and his eyes rested upon a lankand hungry-looking Irish youth. He stared at O'Malley for a long minute,then remembered him and his pie.

  "What do you want, Lieutenant?" he snapped. "I suppose you have that newenemy gun in your pocket."

  His sarcasm was lost upon O'Malley. He grinned wolfishly as he steppedaside.

  "Indaid, an' I hope it's the latest model. I put a very good Jerryflier to a lot of trouble to be after fetchin' it to you."

  The Wing Commander's eyes popped out as he stared at the machine Allisonand Stan had dropped upon the floor. Suddenly he leaped out of his chairand charged around the desk. Getting down on his knees, he bent over thegun and examined it. When he straightened he was smiling.

  "So you are the wild Irishman we have been hearing about," he said. "Itwould seem some rumors are correct in this war."

  "An' now, sor, I'll be running along," O'Malley said. "I'm feelin' a bito' the pinch of hunger."

  "Have two pies on my chit book," the Wing Commander said and smiledbroadly.

  "Indaid, that I will," O'Malley answered gravely.

  The three coal barge nurses returned to the briefing room and checkedtheir chutes which had been discarded on the field. They foundLieutenant Garret waiting for them. He drew his mouth into a triumphantfrown. Beside his desk lay the three chutes, neatly piled there by thefield crew.

  "See those chutes?" he snapped.

  "Sure, an' one of them gadgets is a personal friend o' mine," O'Malleysaid and grinned broadly.

  "I'm putting it down against you. You discarded them on the fieldwithout properly caring for them. That is a violation of generalorders." Garret scowled at the Irish flier.

  O'Malley leaned his elbows on the desk and regarded the officerthoughtfully.

  "Very remarkable, indaid," he said softly.

  "Red Flight reports two Dorniers and three Messerschmitts down and onecaptured," Allison said and his eyes locked with those of the briefingofficer.

  "Red Flight gets credit for two Dorniers. The Royal Navy reported them.And one Messerschmitt brought in." Garret's eyes gleamed triumphantly.

  "Sure, an' are ye certain ye can give us one Messer?" O'Malley asked."Perhaps the poor bye got himself lost an' mistook this berg forBerlin."

  "There is no independent check on the other fighters," Garret snapped.

  Stan said nothing. He could not trust himself to speak. What he wantedto do was to lay a right on Garret's jaw.

  "You fellows better walk pretty straight from now on. And keep yourselflooking like officers," Garret barked.

  Without bothering to fill in a report, O'Malley shoved off to the messroom. Allison filled out his report and Stan made his out. They reportedthe exact action and the results. They left Garret scowling at theircards.

  "Wilson!" Garret called sharply as Stan started to walk away atAllison's side. "I want a word with you, alone."

  Stan turned back and stood at the desk. His gaze locked with Garret's.

  "Have you ever flown stunts or test jobs in the United States?" Heleaned forward and his small eyes searched Stan's face.

  Stan returned his stare. "You have my card where you can dig it out.Suppose you take a look at it?" Stan turned on his heel and walked away.

  Garret let him go without asking any more questions, but he was shakinghis head and frowning as though trying to remember something orsomebody that had slipped his mind.

  "He's about got my number," Stan muttered to himself as he went into themess.