On that same morning, as the Black Bee and her escort of fighting ships knifed in close to their target, Kentucky and his short, tight formation cut through the masquerading Japs like a reaper through a field of wheat. When their guns had ceased blazing away and they swung around for one more sweep, they saw two planes falling in flames, and a third rolling over and over.

The remaining Japs had time to recover partially from the sudden shock, but when the “grim reapers” came roaring back, the Zeros were again swept by a whirlwind of fire.

One wise little brown boy in goggles, who had climbed high, came swooping down on the tail of a plane, but its gunner took care of him with neatness and dispatch.

With their number cut in half, the Zeros faded away.
116

But here were the U. S. bombers and torpedo planes. They were coming in fast. It was time now to join the covering screen escorting the big boys to their target, and Kentucky wheeled his four-plane formation about to shoot away and join their comrades.

The bombers had been shown maps and photographs of the island they were to attack. “This,” their Commander had said, pointing at a map, “is the air field, quite a distance from the beach. You will go after that first, destroying all planes on the ground. Then you will attack their headquarters here, and their fortified positions there.

“I need not tell you,” he had said, addressing all his men—pilots, fighters, bombardiers, torpedo men—“that the life of many a Marine depends upon the manner in which you perform your task. I know that to a man we can count on you.”

There had been a low murmur in response.

“I might say,” the Commander had added, “that this island is to be a steppingstone to Mindanao.”

“Oh! Mindanao! Mindanao!” had come in a chorus.

“Yes, Mindanao, only a few hundred miles away, in the Philippines,” he went on. “And with this island in our possession we shall be able to soften up Mindanao for the final attack.”
117

“Mindanao,” Kentucky thought now as he gripped the controls. “They say the Japs have a prison camp there, where our men are starving and dying. We’ll walk in there some day and take that big island. We’ll free the prisoners. What a day that will be! Then it’s Manila, and after that the China coast. Boy! Will we harvest a sweet revenge for the things those Japs have done to the American prisoners!” He studied his instruments, looked to the loading of his guns, glanced back at his formation, then, drawing a long breath, murmured:

“Well, Tojo, here we come!”

The dive bombers climbed to twelve thousand feet. Kentucky and his fighters kept straight on. As they neared the island he spoke a few words of instruction through his mike to his three companions. Words came back to him. Then, opening his throttle wide, he set his motor roaring. Coming in fast and low, they took the Japs by surprise. Scores of little brown men were racing for the airfield when they came in, nearly grazing the palm trees. Some thirty planes were still on the field.

Breaking formation, the “four horsemen” zoomed in upon the planes and the racing pilots. With machine-gun fire they sent the Japs scurrying for shelter. Then with tracer bullets they riddled the grounded planes.
118

Leaving the field in flames, they swung skyward to rejoin the screen of fighters, bombers, and torpedo planes.

Ten minutes more and the air was filled with the rattle of machine-gun fire and the island became an inferno of bursting bombs.

The torpedo planes discovered three cargo ships and two destroyers in the small harbor and, coming in low, released their “tin fish.”

Bursting torpedoes added their horror to the general confusion of sound. A ship exploded, another keeled over and sank, and a third was run aground. Jap destroyers streaked away, but even their top speed was no match for Kentucky and his followers.

“After them, fellows!” he shouted. “Remember Pearl Harbor!”

Skimming in over the sea, they peppered the deck of a destroyer with slugs until not a man was left standing on deck. Lowering their aim, they began to puncture the destroyer’s thin hull.

A film of oil appeared on the water. “Give it to her!” Kentucky shouted into his phone. “We’ve struck oil. Let’s make it a gusher!”

Just then a dive bomber came screaming down to lay its egg squarely on the destroyer’s deck.

“That got her!” Kentucky exulted, as the craft exploded. “Come on now. Gas is low. Let’s beat it back home for chow.”
119

It was such a day as a flier would never forget.

As they sped away, Marines from barges and small boats were swarming ashore. The stepping stone to Mindanao was now all but won.

“Jeepers!” Kentucky exclaimed into his mike. “I wish Jack and Stew—yes, and Ted too—could have been in on this. Wonder where Ted is right now? We’ll have to take a look.”

Ted was not faring badly. The balmy breezes had dried out his clothes, and dawn had come, but there was no sign of their task force.

“Gone in for the kill and then the landing,” he thought. “And I’m out of it. Worse luck!”

“But then,” he reflected. “Things might be worse.” He had done his bit. He had helped block the attack of those enemy torpedo bombers, and he had shot down two of them—he was quite sure of that.

He munched a chocolate bar for a time. Then he examined the fishline packed in his emergency kit. “Think I’ll try it out,” he murmured. Taking a strip of pork rind from a small bottle, he fastened it on his hook. Then, paying out the line little by little, he watched the white spot as it sank.
120

“Yes, there are fish!” He became ............