Dave Dawson at Casablanca

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Dave Dawson at Casablanca Page 6

by Robert Sidney Bowen


  CHAPTER SIX

  _Changed Orders_

  The U. S. Army Air Transport Command at San Fernando comprised theentire south side of the Trinidad air base. Dawson spotted the Americanflag atop the Administration Building from the air. After his recentexperience, a great sense of relief and joy flooded through him at thesight of Old Glory waving proudly in the breeze. And not only that, butthe sight of Old Glory meant also that this crazy aerial messenger-boymission was one-half completed. Three more stops and they would be atNatal. There they would meet Colonel Welsh and, please, please, God,find out what in thunder this secret sealed-envelope business was allabout.

  "And if he doesn't tell me," Dawson muttered as he let down the Vultee'swheels and nosed the craft earthward, "it's going to be the end of abeautiful friendship as far as I'm concerned. Right! He's got to give usa tiny inkling, at least or--or--Well, I sure hope he does, anyway."

  "So do I, old chap!" he heard Freddy Farmer echo his hope. "I also wantto see his face when we tell him what we have to tell. You haven't anynew ideas, have you, Dave?"

  "Dawson shook his head. During the remainder of the flight to this nextstop, both had taken the U-boat experience apart and had carefullyexamined it piece by piece. It was all to no avail, in regard toreaching any definite conclusion. True, the logical conclusion was thatthe life raft had served as a decoy to bring them down so low that itsoccupants could shoot them into the water. When that had failed, thelurking U-boat had surfaced to try its luck with its bow anti-aircraftgun. If that was the correct conclusion, it made everything even morescrewy. Colonel Welsh was the only man living who knew why they weremaking this crazy flight. He had told them so. How could a Nazi U-boatat sea learn the secret they shared with Colonel Welsh? And--

  "Gosh!" Dawson gasped. "But no! Heck, no! That would be even screwier!"

  "What, Dave?" Freddy asked. "You do have a new idea?"

  "Not exactly," Dawson replied. "Just a chilling thought. Do you supposethose birds on that raft were _really_ torpedo survivors, and in theircrazed state took us for a Nazi plane and--"

  "What utter rot, Dave!" Freddy Farmer interrupted. "Don't be silly, oldthing! Of course not! Would four torpedo survivors bother to take foursub-machine guns onto a life raft with them? Certainly not! Come out ofit, Dave! They were Nazis, sure enough. They were from that U-boat, too,and set adrift to have a go at us."

  "But how--" Dawson began and cut himself off short. "Oh, skip it! If Ilet myself think any more about the crazy business, I'll forget what I'mdoing and crack us up."

  "Then for goodness' sakes don't think of it!" Freddy Farmer cried inalarm. "I fancy I've had excitement enough for the rest of this day! Soforget things and keep your eye on that field down there."

  Dawson did just that, and a couple of minutes later he set the Vulteedown light as a feather and taxied it over toward the AdministrationBuilding. He braked to a stop eventually, unsnapped his safety andparachute harness, and climbed stiff-legged down onto the ground. FreddyFarmer joined him, and they were just starting to get some of the flightstiffness out of their legs when a major came out of the AdministrationBuilding and walked over to them.

  "Captains Dawson and Farmer?" he asked with a smile.

  "Yes, sir." Dave replied with a salute. "I'm Dawson. And you are MajorParker, Yank commandant here, sir?"

  "That's right," the senior officer replied. "Welcome to Trinidad. Wordcame through that you were making a survey flight along our SouthAmerican bases. I think you'll find we're not doing so badly here at SanFernando. Here, this came through about half an hour ago. It's addressedto you both. Needless to say, we didn't try to decode it. I don'tbelieve we have that code in the base book, anyway."

  The major held out a small yellow envelope. Dawson took it, ripped itopen, and withdrew a single sheet of paper. His heart did a loop in hischest when he saw that the coded message was signed, "Tiger." That wasthe signature Colonel Welsh used whenever he contacted the boys insecret. The major had been quite correct, too. The code used by ColonelWelsh was not to be found in the regular base code book, because it wasa special one that the colonel had made up himself. This code was notknown by more than half a dozen men, two of them being Dawson andFarmer. The value of such a code was that it was so made up that adecoding book, or decoding wheel, was not needed. Once you knew thecode, you could read messages from the memory of what the variousletters and numbers and symbols meant.

  Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer looked at it together, while Major Parkerpolitely stared off across the base field. The true meaning of themessage became instantly apparent to them. Translated in their minds, itread:

  "Halt flight San Fernando. Arriving by air midnight. Serious emergency developed. Maintain constant alert. Destroy evidence if necessary. Important!

  WELSH"

  Dawson read the coded message three times, absently pulled off hishelmet and goggles, ran his fingers through his hair, and glancedsidewise at Freddy Farmer.

  "And that is strictly that," he said. "But I wonder what?"

  "I don't know," the English-born air ace replied with a shrug of hisshoulders. "Frankly, though, I don't think I'm annoyed by this message.Fact is, I'm just a bit glad. Much rather see him tonight, instead ofwaiting until we get to Natal."

  Dawson grinned faintly, and nodded.

  "Yeah, I get what you mean," he murmured. "Maybe there's a connectionbetween this and what happened a while ago, eh?"

  "If not, I'll be very much surprised," Freddy Farmer said slowly. "Andyet I may be a bit balmy to say that. How could there possibly be anyconnection?"

  Dawson shrugged, but made no reply. He stuffed the coded message intohis pocket, and turned to where Major Parker was inspecting the Vultee.

  "Thanks for giving us the message, sir," he said. Then he added with agrin, "It sort of looks as though we've been fired, you might say. Oursuperior officer is joining us here at midnight. Would it be all rightfor us to eat in the Officers' Club and sort of kill time until he getshere?"

  "Certainly, Dawson," the major replied at once. "The place is yours.Help yourself to anything you like. So your survey flight is called off,eh?"

  "Well, temporarily, anyway," Dave replied. "But don't ask me why,because I wouldn't know, Major."

  "Okay, I won't," the other smiled. "I'll ask you this, instead. Whatkind of trouble did you run into on the way down here?"

  "Trouble, Major?" Dawson echoed, and stared at him hard.

  "These holes," the senior officer replied, and pointed to a cluster offour bullet holes six inches in from the Vultee's left wing tip."Somebody been sticking a pencil through the wing skin, eh?"

  "No; Nazi slugs," Dawson told him. "We--we came across a surfacingU-boat about eighty miles out. It crash dived right after it sighted us,but it threw up a few slugs in the meantime. We got a couple of itscrew, though. We radioed Puerto Rico patrol base and gave them theU-boat's position. Have you heard any report that she was caught andnailed?"

  "None," the major said, and then pointed across the field. "We wouldn'tget that sort of thing, anyway. This is a British-owned base, you know.That we're here is a sort of lend-lease in reverse, you might say. Andradio stuff such as your call would be picked up by them over there. Toobad, though, you didn't have a couple of depth charges aboard."

  "You're telling me, sir?" Dawson echoed with a grim laugh. "I'd havegiven my right eye for just one! I don't think I hate anything so muchas I hate the U-boats."

  "You're not alone in that pet hate," the major added. "The U-boat is theone thing we've got to lick, and lick fast, if we hope to win this war.Of course, we _are_ flying a lot of stuff across these days. But itstill takes ships to get oil, and gas, and the heavy stuff over whereit's needed. Hold everything! Where are my manners? You two could dowith a wash-up and something to eat right now, couldn't you?"

  "Oh, quite, sir," Freddy Farmer said eagerly.

  And for once Dawson had to agree with the perpetually hungry Englishyouth that a little food wo
uldn't be a bad idea at all. And so, after aquick check of the Vultee to make sure that no stray bullets had damagedanything seriously, they walked over to the Officers' Club with MajorParker. The commanding officer introduced them to a couple of AirTransport Command pilots and then took them into the mess, where a goodmeal was waiting for them. Major Parker had a cup of coffee while theyate, and conversation was at a dead end for a bit.

  Finally, Dawson refused a second cup of coffee and sighed incontentment.

  "I guess I was rather starved, sir," he said to the major with a guiltylaugh. "Must be that Caribbean air."

  "Or the excitement," the major remarked quietly. "A little excitementalways makes me hungry enough to eat a horse. You and Farmer are acouple of lucky fellows, you know."

  "How do you mean, sir?" Dawson questioned, and gave him a searchinglook.

  The other smiled faintly and appeared to be very interested in somethinghe could see out of the mess window. Then suddenly he turned his headand fixed his calm blue eyes on them both.

  "Tiger hasn't given _me_ anything to do for a couple of months," hesaid, "except this job here and orders to keep my eyes and ears openfor sabotage, and all that sort of stuff. I think a little real actionwould just about save my life."

  Dawson tried hard to control the start that the unexpected words gavehim, but he didn't succeed very well.

  "_Tiger_, Major?" he echoed, as a little note of caution sounded deepwithin him.

  Major Parker smiled, and a little bit of red seeped up into his leatheryface.

  "I couldn't help but see the signature, Dawson," he said. "But you havemy word of honor that I didn't read it. Because I saw that it wasaddressed to you two. Colonel Welsh taught me that secret code of hisjust before he sent me down to this place. I haven't been lucky enough,yet, to have had the chance to use it."

  Since their messenger-boy mission had been washed out, at least untilColonel Welsh's arrival at midnight, there was no reason to check MajorParker's connection with Intelligence, but Dave somehow couldn't pass itby.

  "I see, sir," he said quietly. "Well, Farmer and I were taughtsomething, too, before we left. We were taught to take an interest incopper discs. Are you interested in copper discs, sir?"

  "Slightly," the other said with a chuckle. "At least I'm interested inone copper disc. It has numbers on it."

  "Numbers?" Dawson murmured, and tried to look a little surprised.

  Major Parker smiled, and slipped a hand into his pocket.

  "That's right," he said as he withdrew his hand. "Numbers. The numberson the copper disc I'm interested in add up to forty-_three_. Would youlike to see it?"

  A cold chill shot through Dawson's chest, and a strange dryness cameinto his throat. Forty-_three_? But if Major Parker really was ColonelWelsh's agent down here at San Fernando, the numbers on his copper discshould add up to forty-_one_.

  "Why, yes, yes," he finally got out with an effort. "I'd like to see itvery much."

  "Then have a look, by all means, Dawson," the major said, and with aslight movement of his hand he tossed a brightly polished copper discdown on the table top.

  Dawson picked it up with fingers that were trying desperately hard tostop trembling. He could hear Freddy Farmer's heavy breathing, as theEnglish youth leaned over to take a look. Dave had picked up the discwith the smooth side showing, so he had to turn it over. On the otherside stamped into the metal were the numbers 9 1 2 7 8 6 8. He stared atthem, and suddenly the truth came to him. The numbers did not add up toforty-_three_. They added up to forty-_one_, just as they should have.

  The major's soft chuckle made Dawson jerk up his head.

  "Sorry I couldn't resist the temptation, Dawson," the officer said. "Youjust added them up, didn't you? And reached the Pearl Harbor figure,eh?"

  "Yes," Dawson said, and handed back the copper disc with a grin. "Butyou sure had my heart fluttering for a moment there."

  "Frankly, I was just about to reach for my service automatic," FreddyFarmer added.

  "Well, forgive me my rather flat little joke, and let's skip it, eh?"Major Parker said with a little wave of his hand. "I noticed that Tigerstuff gave you a little start, so I thought I'd kid a bit. Maybe that'swhat this darn sun down here does to a fellow. To be serious though--andout of order, I guess--anything in Tiger's message that I should know?"

  "Just what we told you," Dave replied pleasantly. "Our survey job isheld up until Colonel Welsh arrives. Which will be midnight tonight."

  Major Parker looked disappointed. Then he sighed, and grinned.

  "Okay," he said, "we'll let it go at that. If he had wanted me to knowanything, he'd have sent me a message, too. Well, as I said, the placeis yours. I've got some paper work to do, so I'll have to leave you fora spell. Don't hesitate to make yourselves at home. If there is anythingyou want, just yell. See you later."

  "Yes, sir, and thanks for everything," Dawson said. He and Farmer alsorose as the senior officer got to his feet.

  "Think nothing of it," the major said with a wave of his hand. "And havefun, if you can find any fun around this place." With a smile and a nod,he went through the mess door.

  Freddy looked at Dawson, and Dawson looked right back at him.

  "Nice enough chap, isn't he?" the English youth finally broke thesilence.

  "Yes, he's okay," Dawson agreed. "I guess he is going bats down herewith nothing to do. That is, nothing in his own line of work. Say,Freddy?"

  "Yes, Dave."

  "How about walking down some of this swell meal, huh?" Dave suggested."I could do with a walk around. And like Colonel Welsh, I'm not so keenabout four walls."

  "A top-hole idea," Freddy Farmer said gravely, and brushed a couple ofcrumbs off the skirt of his tunic. "I know just what you mean, oldthing. I've been thinking about it myself. Yes, definitely a top-holeidea. Let's get along, shall we?"

  "Yeah, let's," Dawson murmured, and led the way toward the mess door.

 

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