Dave didn't catch the meaning of the question for a couple of seconds. He was enjoying the mental picture of this band box officer rushing into a hard bitten C.O.'s office with a scare rumor that a huge Jap attack force was _less_ than a hundred miles off the Australian coast. And of how he came out with his ears burning from the officer's words about what he could do with his crazy and utterly impossible tale! And then Dave realized that the Major was stabbing a finger at his bullet-smacked wings. "Why, they're my pilot's wings, sir," he replied. "They met with a little accident." "And they certainly look it!" the Major rasped. "A fine thing to wear on a Government uniform! A lot of you young officers certainly need to be taught a bit more respect for your uniforms, and the insignia you wear. I'd advise you to obtain a new pair before you report to H.Q. in Sydney. Now, go ahead and take off! You're late enough as it is! Get going!" "Yes, sir, very good, sir," Dave said as meekly as he could, and climbed into the pilot's pit with anger seething in his soul. The engine had already been warmed up, and it was now just idling over. Strapping himself in, Dave looked back to get the nod from Freddy, and to snap a quick glance at the major. The senior officer was standing a few feet off the right wing tip in the perfect attitude of an old crank waiting to make sure that a couple of trespassing kids got off the property. Turning front, Dave smothered a grin and released the wheel brakes, and inched open the throttle enough to get the Vultee rolling forward. Then when the tail came abreast of the major, Dave opened up the throttle wide and tapped the left wheel brake just enough to swing the tail over to the right. Then he banged the throttle the rest of the way open and took off in a hurry. As he cleared the ground, he looked back and hooted. The major was flat on his back in a cloud of dust, with his feet straight up in the air. And his officer's cap was spinning along the edge of the field like a runaway spare wheel. "Oops, so sorry, Big Shot!" Dawson shouted. "Darned if I didn't forget you were there. Better go wash your neck. The Army must always look clean and tidy, you know, Major. So long, chump!" "And the Military Police will probably be waiting for you, old thing, at Sydney!" Freddy Farmer sang out between spells of laughter. "There's such a thing as radio, you know." "And that'll be okay, too!" Dave chuckled. "They can bring me back here, so's I can do it all over again. Make cracks about my wings, huh? Too had he wasn't a captain, or I wasn't a major, too. I think I would enjoy very much pasting that make-believe in the nose. Well, here we go again. On again, off again--as usual!" CHAPTER THREE _Flight To Nowhere_