"Right on course, unless these instruments are haywire, which of course they're not," he murmured. "But just the same, I'd sure like to get out of these darn clouds. The stuff must stretch all the way to China. Anyway, it's not raining. And that's something. But of course, Dawson, old chap, this isn't England, you know!" As he spoke the words he absently fingered the switch button of his radio flap mike, but when he suddenly realized what he was doing he snatched his hand away as though the thing were red hot. "Radio silence, at any cost, chump!" he growled at himself. "Not that all of Europe can't hear the racket the raiders are making. But orders is orders. And stop worrying about Freddy Farmer, too. He's right back there in this soup some place. You spotted his plane not over half an hour ago. So take it easy." Yes, only half an hour ago Freddy Farmer had been right there in back of him, and a little to the left. Sure! But kingdoms have fallen, and nations crumbled in less time than half an hour. Was Freddy still back there in formation position, and was he simply hidden by the clouds? If only he could but speak a few words over the R.T. system, and find out. But he couldn't do that. On this flight he had to observe radio silence, at least until the target had been reached. True, Nazi aircraft detectors had picked them up long ago, and knew just where the gigantic aerial armada was even right now. But that wasn't why radio silence had been ordered. What the Nazis didn't know was that the armada was not heading for simply one target, but several targets. At a given time the armada would split up and follow several different courses. Radio silence, however, had been ordered so that no thoughtless slip of the tongue by anybody would reveal to Nazi ground stations, listening on the same wave band, that more than one target was to be bombed.