Dave Dawson at Truk Read online

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan, Jim Towey at TheAdventure Continues and the Online Distributed ProofreadingTeam at https://www.pgdp.net

  DAVE DAWSON AT TRUK

  _by_ R. SIDNEY BOWEN

  [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

  THE WAR ADVENTURE SERIES

  CROWN PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

  COPYRIGHT, 1946, BY CROWN PUBLISHERS

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  TO JOHNNY GILBERT

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE

  I ON AGAIN, OFF AGAIN 13

  II STRANGE BUSINESS 23

  III THE TALKING SHACK 31

  IV VANISHING DEATH 42

  V WESTWARD HO! 58

  VI INVISIBLE KILLER 68

  VII SPY TRAP 86

  VIII BLACK LIGHTNING 106

  IX ROOM OF DEATH 118

  X UNLUCKY DAY 134

  XI FATE LAUGHS 148

  XII FLASHING FINISH 161

  XIII ALL OR NOTHING 175

  XIV SATAN STRIKES 189

  XV AVENGING EAGLES 204

  XVI KISMET 220

  XVII THE DEAD RETURN 234

  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't even see him!"

  Dawson grinned, and opened his mouth. But he closed it when he saw thelook on young Farmer's face. Instead, he shook his head gravely.

  "No, Freddy," he said. "The general didn't say a thing to me. It'sdollars to doughnuts that he doesn't even know I exist. But I put itthat way so's you'd catch on."

  "Catch on to what?" Freddy wanted to know.

  Dawson threw up his hands in exasperation.

  "Sweet tripe, Freddy!" he cried. "It's past noon! Aren't you awake yet?It's obvious, pal, isn't it? Obvious that the invasion isn't going topop right away. The High Command is marking time while the bomber boysgive Germany a good going-over. So the experienced pilots that aren'tneeded in England have been sent back here to help with the trainingprogram. Don't worry, when the big show starts we'll be yanked backthere, but fast. _That's_ why I'm not tearing out my hair because I'vebeen stuck on this instructing job. Because I know that when it's timefor the balloon to go up I'll be sent there. And so will you. And sowill all the others that flew back from England with us. Now do I makesense to you?"

  Freddy Farmer nodded, but he didn't say anything for a moment.

  "Yes, you're quite right, I fancy," he murmured presently. "I must beslipping way off the beam not to have figured that out for myself. But Iwonder how long?"

  "When the Allied High Command is darned good and ready, and not a minutebefore," Dawson replied. "Meanwhile we stick here ... and like it!"

  "Maybe you can like it, but I don't," young Farmer growled, and glaredat the window glass. "This blasted rain!"

  Dave snapped his book closed, and tossed it on a nearby table.

  "Check!" he grunted. "It seems to be letting up a little, though, solet's do something about it. A little of it may do us some good. Let'stake a walk out by those orange groves. They looked pretty interestingfrom the air. How about it, huh?"

  "Right-o," Freddy Farmer sighed, and got to his feet. "Anything's betterthan just sitting here listening to it!"