Then he saw it, a big old four-motored Jap snooper slipping out for a look at their carrier. “Hot dog!” Kentucky’s plane shot skyward and then came plunging down in a steep curve. His two guns poured hot lead into the snooper’s right outside motor. The motor, almost cut away, hung by shreds. Before the snooper could right itself, Kentucky was back, firing away at the other right motor. He set it smoking. The big plane tilted, rolled over, then went plunging toward the sea. All this had happened in the space of seconds. Enough time had elapsed, however, for other things to be brewing. Suddenly two of his fighting pals joined him, while from up beyond there came the sharp _rat-a-tat-tat_ of machine-gun fire. Rubbing his eyes, Kentucky peered into the brightening dawn. A half mile or so before him he made out the shadowy forms of several planes circling wildly, with guns blazing. His triggerlike mind took in the situation in an instant. “Hey! Red! Blackie! Jean!” he roared into his radio. “Hold up! Circle Back! BACK!” As they began swinging back, speaking in a low tone, he continued: “That’s only a bunch of Zeros putting on a show for us. It looks like a fight, but it’s only a sham battle. None of our planes are in there. We’re in the lead.” Through his earphones he caught low grumbles and some unprintable words. “Come on, now,” he invited. “Get into formation. You know the lineup. We’ll join in their game, all right, but on our own terms.” They climbed rapidly and joined in wing-to-wing formation, Kentucky in the lead and Red bringing up the rear. Red carried a gunner, the best the Navy knew, in his rear cockpit. “Now! Come on down! And give it to them for my old pal Joe and all the American boys lost at Pearl Harbor!” Kentucky shouted into his mike. And down they came. CHAPTER XIII THE JET PLANE In the meantime Jack had decided on a bold stroke. He was not sure that at this time it was a wise thing to do, but his burning desire to make his way back to the carrier and resume his post of duty there had all but driven him to it. As he paced back and forth on the beach, guarding camp and wondering about his strange night visitor, he recalled the words of his uncle Dan who had fought in the first World War: “You’ll be in danger many times,” he had said in a serious, friendly voice. “Your superior officers will not always be present to make decisions for you. You’ll sometimes have to make them for yourself. Always keep this thought uppermost in your mind: you are worth a great deal more to your country alive than dead. Don’t take unnecessary chances.” “Am I planning to take unnecessary chances now?” he asked himself. Though he did not know the answer, he was willing to take the risk.