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The Floating Press - Sydney Bowen Robert

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97 pages

English

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If you're looking for top-notch tales of aerial warfare, no one does it better than real-life RAF pilot Robert Sydney Bowen and his intrepid alter ego Dave Dawson. In this volume of the popular action-adventure series, Dawson plays a pivotal part in a WWII airstrike on Truk Island in the western Pacific Ocean.

Sujets

Adventure

Adventure (Guyana)

Informations

Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 février 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776532919
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

DAVE DAWSON AT TRUK
* * *
ROBERT SYDNEY BOWEN

*
Dave Dawson at Truk First published in 1946 Epub ISBN 978-1-77653-291-9 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77653-292-6 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter One - On Again, Off Again Chapter Two - Strange Business Chapter Three - The Talking Shack Chapter Four - Vanishing Death Chapter Five - Westward Ho! Chapter Six - Invisible Killer Chapter Seven - Spy Trap Chapter Eight - Black Lightning Chapter Nine - Room of Death Chapter Ten - Unlucky Day Chapter Eleven - Fate Laughs Chapter Twelve - Flashing Finish Chapter Thirteen - All or Nothing Chapter Fourteen - Satan Strikes Chapter Fifteen - Avenging Eagles Chapter Sixteen - Kismet Chapter Seventeen - The Dead Return
*
TO JOHNNY GILBERT
Chapter One - On Again, Off Again
*
Freddy Farmer shifted his position in the huge leather upholsteredchair, decided that it wasn't comfortable enough, and shifted again. Hestill wasn't satisfied, but he was too bored and too lazy to exert anyfurther effort. He stared gloomily at the torrents of rain slashingagainst the windows of the Officers' Club lounge, at the San Diego NavalAir Base, and sighed heavily.
"I fancy I'll never learn not to believe a word you say, not ever!" hegroaned.
Hunched down in the next chair, Dave Dawson marked with his finger tipthe place where he had stopped reading, and turned his head.
"Speaking to me, little man?" he murmured.
"Only because you happen to be the only one present," young Farmersnapped. Then, with a wave toward the rain-swept window panes, he said,"I was remarking that I should know better than ever to believe a wordyou say. Beautiful California? Good grief! Just look at it!"
"Look at what?" Dawson chuckled. "That slight dew that's falling? Thinknothing of it. Good for the crops."
"Dew, he says!" Freddy snorted. And then as a vivid flash of lightningblinded them both for a split second, to be followed by a bellow ofthunder that seemed to lift the whole building right up off itsfoundations, he added quickly, "And that, I suppose, was just some chapout there striking a match?"
"Could be," Dawson laughed. "California's full of things you'd neverbelieve unless you saw them. But don't toss the weather at me, pal. I'mnot a native of this state, so you can't get a rise out of me. Anyway,what the heck are you crabbing about? No good weather, no flying. Andthat gives us a chance to catch up on something or other. Now, take thisbook I'm reading. I ..."
"You take it, and keep it!" Freddy Farmer growled. "You know, Dave, youamaze me at times. Blessed if you're not as unpredictable as one ofHitler's speeches. Really."
"Yeah?" Dawson grinned at him. "How come? Add a few more words to that,will you?"
"With pleasure!" young Farmer snapped. "Some two or three weeks ago,when we were included in a bunch of pilots and such to be sent fromEngland to America to help train Army and Navy pilots, you just abouthit the roof. Why, you were fit to go down to American Air Forces H. Q.in London and tear the blasted place apart. You train fledglings to fly?Never, you declared! You belly-ached night and day. Why, when we arrivedhere and you learned that we'd been assigned to Naval Aviation, you wentcompletely off the deep end. You were an Army flier, a fighter pilot,and all that sort of rot. And now, suddenly, you're as content as a bugin a rug. Blessed if I get it, Dave? Or did the commandant of the basehere overhear a few of your remarks, and call you up before him for ablistering?"
"Nope, not that," Dawson said with a chuckle. "That I have calmed down,and am relaxed, is simply the result of another one of my sterlingqualities that you have overlooked. I mean, the ability to adjust myselfto existing circumstances."
"Oh, quite!" Freddy Farmer jeered at him. "Particularly when you knowblasted well that you can't do a thing about them!"
"Well, maybe you've got something there, pal," Dawson murmured, andstared at the rain-swept windows. "When I'm posted to some job I don'tgo for at all, I sound off just as a matter of habit. I really don't kidmyself that my objections are going to change anything. You and I havebeen in this cockeyed war too long to think that everything is all cutand dried. It isn't. And it never will be. In war anything can happen,and you can bet your last dime that it will, eventually. So I just getthe steam off my chest, then say, oh, what the heck, and let it go likethat."
"I see what you mean," young Farmer grunted. "And I'll admit that I feelmuch the same way. Only I keep my thoughts to myself. Commandingofficers have big ears, you know. And it would just be the Farmer luckto have my words reach one of those big ears. But this blasted rain!"
"A buck says that there won't be a cloud in the sky at the end of acouple of hours," Dawson said. "California's like that. But now thatwe're letting down our hair, I gather that you're not so hot for thisinstructing job, either, huh?"
"Definitely not!" Freddy groaned. Then he added quickly, "Not that Idon't think these Navy chaps are top-hole, and all that. A very keenbunch of beggars, and they'll make good pilots, all of them. And you andI have flown enough with the Navy in the past to like it as much asflying with the Army. It's not that, either. It's ... well, frankly,it's because I'm so blasted selfish, I'm afraid."
"Yes, you sure are, when it comes to snagging the odd piece of pie,"Dawson said with a grin. "That, though, is the fault of that bottomlessstomach of yours, and you can't help yourself. Just what do you mean bythat last remark?"
"Just what I said, that I'm selfish," young Farmer replied. "Let someother chap have this instructing grind. I want to be on one of thefronts where there's action, and lots of it."
"Freddy, the old fire eater," Dawson chuckled. "But you've also gotsomething there, too. So would I, and how! However ..."
He let the rest slide and emphasized it with a shrug. Freddy Farmerfrowned at him in a puzzled manner.
"See?" he eventually cried. "That's what I mean. The way you are now.Completely licked, you seem like. Blessed if it's like you, Dave. Haveyou gone sour on something?"
"Heck, no!" Dawson cried, and sat up straight. "And don't get any dopeyideas that I feel licked about anything. I'm just biding my time, that'sall. I mean, that something's bound to pop. It always has. It's justthat I'm finally getting around to realizing that you can't push thingsalong. You've just got to keep your shirt on when things get slow, andrealize that there'll be plenty of fireworks sooner or later."
"Well, well, the chap must be growing up, after all," Freddy Farmermurmured. Then, before Dawson could open his mouth to make a retort, hesaid, "There must have been at least a hundred of us that came back tothe States by Army Air Transport planes, wouldn't you say?"
"Yeah, more or less," Dawson grunted with a nod. "So what?"
"So what?" young Farmer echoed sharply. "So why?"
"Ye gods, right back where we started!" Dawson groaned. "The oldrotation idea, that's why. A bit of front line service, and then a bitof back home service, passing out your knowledge to those who have yetto see action. For Pete's sake, Freddy! What's so mysterious aboutthat? Maybe it is a bit odd that we were stationed at a Naval Aviationbase. However, perhaps the idea is to get Army and Navy pilots to knowone another better. Too much rivalry between services is just as bad asnone at all, you know."
"Well, I do, now that you've explained, sir!" Freddy barked at him. "Butyou still haven't answered my question. I mean, with the invasion ofHitler's Europe bound to pop any day now, why in the world send ahundred or more seasoned pilots away from England? Answer me that."
The corners of Dawson's mouth twitched in a grin, but Freddy didn't seeit.
"I don't know that I've a right to tell you, Freddy," he finally said,and tugged at his chin with a thumb and forefinger.
"A right to tell me what?" young Farmer demanded. "Come off it, Dave!Stop being so blasted mysterious. You and I've always shared everything,haven't we?"
"Everything, except food," Dawson ribbed him. "You never were anybody'spal when you had the feed bag on. But I guess it's all right to tellyou. It's because of what General Eisenhower said."
"To who?" Freddy asked.
"To whom, is what you mean, little man," Dawson said with a straightface. "What he said to me when he called me down to London HighCommand H.Q."
Freddy Farmer opened his mouth to speak, but a wrathful snort came outof it instead.
"I might have known!" he growled. "General Eisenhower call you to hisheadquarters? Rot! Pure rot!"
"Okay, then, have it your way," Dawson sighed, and returned hisattention to his book.
Freddy glared at him for a few seconds, then gave a little resignedshake of his head, and took a deep breath.
"Very well," he said, "I might as well let you get it all off yourchest. And what did General Eisenhower say to you, my good man?"
"For two cents I wouldn't tell you!" Dawson grunted. "But I don't reallyneed the money, so I will. The general told me that we were all beingsent back here for a home stay because the invasion of Hitler's Europeis not bound to pop 'most any day, as you have just so gliblyremarked."
"Really, Dave?" Freddy Farmer gasped. "Honest? You mean...? Oh, blastyou, stop pulling my leg! I know perfectly well that General Eisenhowerdidn't say a word to you. You didn