Now that the formation had broken the Japanese pilots couldn't locate him as quickly in the confusion of the battle.
Every plane in the sky had American markings. Yet he knew that anything flying was his enemy. Fighting like a demon, and using the ship as though it were part of him, he circled, spun, dove, and climbed, fighting the ship with everything it had. In the middle of it, he glanced upward and saw something that made his heart jolt with fear.
High above he saw a fighter ship peel off of a new formation and come shooting down toward them, and after it a long string of others. The American planes! The returning planes from the carriers! I
Down below he could see the belching guns, and hear the mighty thunder of crashing cannon as the Japanese ships opened fire. But then he was shooting upward, climbing out and praying that he wouldn't be shot down by his own countrymen.
They fell upon the Japanese-piloted aircraft and suddenly Jim could see the method to their madness. Every American pilot had his cockpit canopy slid back. They were taking a horrible buffeting but, at close range at least, they could identify each other. Jim ripped the Perspex windscreen back and wheeled back into the fray.
A ship showed in his sights and he opened up, ripping a long line of holes down the side, and the plane suddenly turned into flame, and fell from sight.
How long he fought he didn't know, or how many ships he downed, but then suddenly, he saw a torpedo bomber headed toward a battleship, and he did an Immelmann and whipped around on the bomber's tail. The rear gunner opened fire on him, but he roared on into the blazing guns, his own, one steady stream of fire.
He was coming in from slightly below and suddenly, a shell from his cannon hit the torpedo on the enemy plane.
There was a terrific blast of fire, and a crash like thunder, and then his own plane, hit by a barrage of flying fragments, dove crazily.
For an instant he righted it, but one wing was vibrating wildly and he knew he was finished. He struggled with the crash belts, a plane dove toward him, its guns roaring, and something struck him a terrific blow on the head.
In a blaze of pain lighted by the burning bomber, and accompanied by the rising crescendo of exploding shells, he turned back to the controls. He dropped toward the water, using his flaps to kill his speed and skipping across the ocean, like a stone. He saw sky and water, his body was pounded by forces he couldn't identify, whirled and slapped and was finally drenched with salty water laced with gasoline. He slipped out of the belts, gave thanks that the canopy was already open, and then lost consciousness.
It was a long time later when he opened his eyes, and for an instant he could not remember what had happened.
Around him were the familiar sights of his own cabin on the Semimmis. He tried to sit up, and pain struck him like a physical blow. For an instant everything was black, then he opened his eyes.
Major Arnold was standing over him, a look of concern on his face. Ponga Jim grinned, painfully.
"Always show up in time for the payoff, don't you?" he said.
Arnold smiled. "I showed up in time to fish you out of the water, and if I hadn't you would have been feeding the fish by now."
"What happened?" Jim asked.
Arnold shrugged. "What would happen? Once our boys knew what the score was they moved in and mopped up.
Seven destroyers sunk, one battleship, and two cruisers.
The fighting is over except for a few cleanup jobs.
"I was with your fleet, and they got planes off the carriers right away and hit the Jap ships from above before they were expecting it. They caught two of the cruisers inside the reef near Parigi and they never got out."
"How about this boat?" Ponga Jim asked.
Slug Brophy stepped up, grinning. He had a welt on his cheekbone and a long gash on his head.
"I got to the Gunner. Longboy had already got loose.
They only left a few men aboard once they had the planes off. So we took over."
"Sounds like it was a swell scrap," Jim mumbled. He looked at Arnold. "I got a jeal crew, William. I got some good boys!"
"Right you are," Arnold agreed. "They handled it nicely."
"Did any of them get away?" Jim asked seriously.
"Only one," Brophy said. "But we got two submarines before they could dive, and laid a couple of shells aboard a battlewagon. The Gunner always wanted to shoot at a battlewagon," Brophy added.
"Here's somebody who wants to talk to you," Arnold said as the girl appeared. "I don't get it, Mayo. Here I am, handsome, with a smooth-looking white and gold uniform, romantic eyes and the figure of a Greek god, and yet you get all the women!"
"It's the poissonality, William!" Jim sighed, grinning.
"It's the poissonality!"
with These Hands (Ss) (2002) Page 25
