CHAPTER XV
BURMA DETOUR
When Mary arrived at the airport before dawn next morning, guards, likegray ghosts, were moving silently about among the many planes assembledthere.
Having been challenged by one of the guards, she explained her missionand was at once led to a cabin monoplane that was just warming up.
“Oh! There you are!” Scottie exclaimed. “I hope you’re ready for a bitof a scrap or anything that comes along.”
“I’m with you for anything that comes our way,” she replied.
“Good!” said Scottie. “Well, then let’s get up and get going.”
Climbing to his place, he released the mechanic who had put his planein motion, then motioned Mary to the co-pilot’s seat.
“This is a small plane alongside yours,” he said. “We had to break upsome of the boxes of quinine and store the goods in the wings, but it’sall there.
“Listen to her!” he exclaimed, as the motor roared. “Snortin’ to go!She’s the sweetest ship I’ve ever flown. She’ll jump right straight upfrom the ground, or nearly so, and can land on any road a car can runon. She can do four hundred miles an hour, flying straight on, and cancut circles around any Jap plane that’s made. I only wish I could showyou what a fighter she is, but they say all’s quiet on the Burma Front.”
“Please don’t stir it up on my account.” Mary laughed a bit nervously.“All I’m interested in is getting that quinine to the hospital—”
“Sure!” Scottie agreed heartily. “That’s our mission and that’s whatwe’ll do, but downing a couple of Zeros won’t hurt a bit.”
It seemed to Mary as they rose to greet the dawn, that he had spokenthe exact truth. His ship did appear to leap straight into the air likea frightened bird.
“I’m glad Sparky is getting a chance to have a real rest at last,” shesaid after a time.
“Yes, I imagine he can use it, all right,” said Scottie. “He told me hewas going to sleep late. After that he and one of the boys at camp willfly your plane to the foot of the mountains. We’ll meet them there latetoday.”
“And tomorrow we’ll go over the Himalayas?” Mary drew in a long, deepbreath.
“Yes, providing the mountain gods permit you. They don’t always, not bya long ways.”
“Is it really bad?”
“It’s the toughest bit of flying between China and Chicago. Every pilotwho’s done the trip says so. And there’s a score or more of men who’veflown it many times. Help is coming to China from America in a bigway—by plane. And I’m glad.”
“So are we all!” Mary agreed.
For an hour they sailed on over green fields of rice and dark, tangledforests.
“There’s a storm gathering over there,” Scottie nodded in the directionthey were going. “Hope we can beat it.”
“Oh! I hope so.”
They were over a broad stretch of water now.
“It’s getting really black over the jungle where those Jap rats arehiding.” Scottie set his motor roaring. “They’ll not bother us today.”
As Mary watched the gathering storm she thought she saw small planes,like birds circling before the clouds. “Scurrying home,” she toldherself.
They had reached the far side of the water when, with startlingsuddenness, the storm struck. Catching their plane as if it were a wispof paper, the wind whirled it up—up—up a thousand, two, threethousand feet, then sent it whirling down again.
“Just hold your seat,” Scottie’s lips were drawn into a straight line.“I’ve been all through this before.”
When their downward rush had slackened, he kept the plane headed towardthe earth. “We’re still at five thousand feet,” he murmured. “Might bea bright spot below.”
All the time Mary was thinking, “We’ve come all that long way with thequinine and now—”
Suddenly, she let out a little cry of joy. From the very blackness ofnight that was the heart of a storm cloud, they leaped into clear,bright air.
Better still, beneath them lay a large clearing and at its far end,half hidden, was a small airfield.
Scottie spoke a few words into his radio. Mary caught the answer:
“Come on down, you monkey. What you want to do, stay up there and getwet?”
Roaring with laughter Scottie set the plane circling down. The nextminute their plane bump-bumped and they slid in for a stop.
“Here we are!” Scottie exclaimed.
“Yes, and here comes the rain,” was Mary’s answer as big drops beganbeating a tattoo on their fuselage.
Three minutes later, while the rain was coming down in torrents alaughing young doughboy carrying slickers on his arm climbed to theplane’s cabin to thrust in his head for a look.
“I win!” he shouted to someone standing in a tent door. “You lose yourtwo bucks. She’s a lady! And, boy, oh, boy! Is she!”
There came a roar from the distant tent, then the boy crowded past theboxes of quinine to hold out the slickers.
“Here. Get into these,” he urged. “We heard about your coming and aboutthe quinine. You won’t be here long. Gotta make every moment count.”
Smiling happily, Mary hid herself in a slicker six sizes too big, thenraced away to the tent where she found a score of young men, most ofthem with full beards, singing:
“It ain’t going to rain no more.”
The instant she appeared the song broke off short.
“Here she is! Danny!” her escort shouted. “Now where’s the two bucks.”
“You gotta take that raincoat off her before I’m convinced,” came thedefiant reply.
With a happy smile Mary threw aside her raincoat.
There came a succession of low gasps, then whispers: “It is! It’s a galpilot.”
At that a tall doughboy shuffled forward. “We drew straws,” he beganbashfully. “I lost so I’ve got to make you a speech. We—we all want tothank you for the quinine. A lot of our buddies are in the hospital.We’ve been out of quinine for a week and,—and who knows which of usgoes on sick leave next so—”
“As you were—” Mary’s voice faltered, then steadied. “You should knowthat we gals in the army ask only one thing, to be treated as buddiesand—and regular soldiers.”
This speech was received with a round of cheers.
“Come on, boys!” shouted a husky sergeant who beyond doubt had crashedmany a football line. “Give her the hero’s rush.”
At that they hoisted her to their shoulders and heading into thedrenching rain, carried her away to the hospital.
There, safely hidden away at the edge of the jungle, they put her downin a big tent packed full of cots and on every cot rested an invalidsoldier.
“Boys,” said the sergeant, “we’ve brought you the two best things inthe world, plenty of quinine and a lady.”
“Speech! Speech!” came from every corner.
“Oh, boys,” Mary was close to tears, “I’m a flier, not a chaplain. AllI can say is that I shall always remember this as the happiest momentof my life.
“One thing more before I leave. I’d like your names and addresses. IfI’m lucky enough to get back to good, old U. S. A., I’ll write to yourmothers, every one of them and tell them that I saw you.”
“Oh!” exclaimed a very young boy close beside her, “that—that will beswell!”
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_“I’ll Write to Your Mothers,” She Promised_]
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With aching heart but smiling face Mary went from cot to cot collectingaddresses and personal messages of the sick men.
Then Scottie came in. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “The rain hasstopped. There’s just time for a bit of chow with the other boys here,then we’ll have to hop into the sky. Don’t forget that Sparky’swaiting.”
“Of course,” she exclaimed. ?
??We must get going.”
A roar of farewell from the soldiers a half hour later, a burst ofspeed and once again they were in the air.
For some time they were silent, then Mary said in a solemn voice:
“Scottie, I saw things in that field hospital today that I hope I maynever see again, but I’ll never forget them. Never! Never!”
“Yes, I know,” Scottie replied.
There was another long silence. Then Scottie spoke: “I don’t oftenspeak of it. War’s not a thing to be talked about, really, especiallywhen you’re talking to a girl. But did you happen to notice those twoboys in the far right-hand corner of the hospital?”
“Yes, I talked to them. Such nice boys. Both college men. They werefliers.”
“Yes, and ‘were’ is exactly the word. Neither of them will ever flyagain and one will never even walk.”
“Terrible,” she murmured.
“It is terrible.” Scottie’s voice rose. “They were my buddies, thoseboys were. More than once we flew in the same formation. We weretogether when it happened. Want me to tell you?” he hesitated.
“Yes, tell me.” Her voice was low.
“Well, those boys were flying a two seater, one was pilot, the otherradioman and gunner. We were four planes together on patrol. Ten Zerosdropped down upon us from the clouds.”
“Oh! The clouds!” Mary looked up. Large, white clouds left by the stormwere hovering above them.
“It was a hot fight,” Scottie went on. “I got me two Zeros, sent themdown in flames. Having one more burst of fire I went after one moreZero. He was a tough one. Got in a burst of slugs on me and cut half myship’s tail away. But I gave him one that set one of his wings shakinglike a dead leaf. With my guns empty, I was heading for home andwondering if I’d get there, when I saw a good American two-seater goingdown in flames.
“‘It’s the end of those boys,’ I thought. Then I saw two parachutesblossom out.”
“Did they make it?”
“They would have.” Scottie hesitated. “You might not believe me, butthose boys would tell you if you asked them—”
“Why? What—”
“The Jap that shot them down followed them, followed until theirparachutes opened up and—”
“Shot them up—”
“That’s what he did. Me? I was so mad I went after him and withoutammunition and with a shot-up tail I’d have got him too if I’d had toram him, but he hid in a cloud.”
“And didn’t anyone get him?” Mary asked eagerly.
“Not that day, they didn’t, nor ever I guess. We’d know his plane if wegot him and I’d know him in the air.”
“How could you?”
“The impudent monkey had the nose of his plane painted to represent ourUncle Sam with a long beard and a very red nose.”
“Giving you something to shoot at, I suppose.”
“Let me see the target just one more time,” Scottie exclaimed, “andI’ll make a bull’s eye.”
For a long time after that Mary sat staring dreamily down at thetropical beauty that glided beneath them and thinking of the peoplewho, like bits of the jungle, had come and gone in her life during thedays that had just passed. She saw again Jerry, the beachcomber, TheWoman in Black, Captain Ramsey, and her father. A dozen other familiarfigures passed before her mind’s eye. And then of a sudden, Scottieexclaimed:
“Look! There’s four of those black-hearted, little goggle-eyes slippingout of a cloud right now! I don’t suppose—” he hesitated. “Of coursewe can run, or we can climb. They’d never come near us. Perhaps that’sthe best way. There’s Sparky waiting for you, and your cargo.” Therewas a wistful note in his voice. It was, Mary thought, like the singingnote of a faithful dog’s whine when he was begging to be loosened for afight.
“Sparky can wait, if need be—forever.” Her voice was firm. “The cargowill go through even if I’m not there.”
“Then we—”
“Go get them, Scottie!” Her words came short and quick.
“You asked for it.” His motor roared. “So did they.”
The four Zeros, sure that one of them would finish Scottie off, cameright at them. As if by thundering straight on he hoped to avoid them,Scottie did not change his course until he was almost beneath them.
Then, with a “Hang on, Mary!” he tilted his plane straight up to climbtoward the stars.
Caught off guard, the attackers attempted to scatter. One narrowlyescaped crashing into the other and, in the confusion, found Scottiebeneath him, with every gun blazing. With its fuselage sawed half intwo, the Zero doubled up to go rolling and tumbling toward the junglefar below.
Just in time Scottie dropped the nose of his plane, tilted, and wentinto a spiral to escape an enemy on his tail.
When he came out of the spiral, he stood for a second on his wing, thenrising like a comet, flashed past the would-be attacker to catch asecond Zero unawares and send him down in a pillar of smoke.
Just then a stream of slugs cut across their cabin, so close to theirbacks that Mary felt the heat of their passing.
“The dirty—” Scottie did not finish. As the other plane flashed pasthim, he had seen something. Mary had seen it, too.
“Get him, Scottie,” she screamed. “Get him if it’s the last thing youever do.”
“Never doubt it!” In deathly fear lest his ship had suffered from theattackers’ bullets he set his motor thundering her best as he sethimself to beat the Zero to a cloud a mile or so away.
They gained. They halved the distance between them. They quartered it.The plane seemed a thing alive.
“Get him, Scottie! Get him!” she cried hoarsely.
It was a long chance but just as the enemy touched the edge of thecloud, Scottie let go. A burst of fire, another, then another.
The Zero had completely disappeared, when the last burst roared fromhis guns.
Ten seconds passed, twenty, thirty, then, down from the cloud, as ifthe cloud itself were falling apart, came broken bits of something thatonce had been a Zero fighter.
“Just blasted him apart!” Scottie muttered. “Can you beat that?”
“That picture of Uncle Sam on his plane’s nose—”
“That, Mary? That picture!” Scottie laughed hoarsely. “That’s blastedinto bits. His engine must have blown up or his gas tank or both!”
A half hour later, as they circled for a landing over the field whereSparky awaited them, Scottie said:
“What’s the use of a good, American flier being over Burma withoutdoing a little fighting, even if she is a lady?”
“Fighting, Scottie?” said Mary. “I haven’t been fighting. Just had aride with a Flying Tiger, that’s all.”
“And one you’ll not forget.”
“Not ever.”
And so they came on down.
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