“That’s right. But our baby here goes fastest when there’s the thinnest sort of air in front of her to create friction. Five hundred miles an hour? Say! That’s nothing!” Jack stared at the plane with sheer admiration. Suddenly Jerry, the stranger’s partner, came up with an alligator wrench in his hand. “Got to get busy and step out on the air.” With that Jack’s newly found friend was gone, just like that. Nor did he return. Not five minutes had passed when the mystery plane let out the squeal of an expiring porker, lifted its voice to the pitch of a fire siren, started to glide, touched the sea, cast back a spray, then was in the air and flew swiftly away. Jack had searched for the plane to make whatever discovery he could concerning it, but he was not sure that he had accomplished anything. CHAPTER XIV TED’S GONY On that same morning, as the _Black Bee_ and her escort of fighting ships knifed in close to their target, Kentucky and his short, tight formation cut through the masquerading Japs like a reaper through a field of wheat. When their guns had ceased blazing away and they swung around for one more sweep, they saw two planes falling in flames, and a third rolling over and over. The remaining Japs had time to recover partially from the sudden shock, but when the “grim reapers” came roaring back, the Zeros were again swept by a whirlwind of fire. One wise little brown boy in goggles, who had climbed high, came swooping down on the tail of a plane, but its gunner took care of him with neatness and dispatch. With their number cut in half, the Zeros faded away. But here were the U. S. bombers and torpedo planes. They were coming in fast. It was time now to join the covering screen escorting the big boys to their target, and Kentucky wheeled his four-plane formation about to shoot away and join their comrades. The bombers had been shown maps and photographs of the island they were to attack. “This,” their Commander had said, pointing at a map, “is the air field, quite a distance from the beach. You will go after that first, destroying all planes on the ground. Then you will attack their headquarters here, and their fortified positions there. “I need not tell you,” he had said, addressing all his men—pilots, fighters, bombardiers, torpedo men—“that the life of many a Marine depends upon the manner in which you perform your task. I know that to a man we can count on you.” There had been a low murmur in response. “I might say,” the Commander had added, “that this island is to be a steppingstone to Mindanao.” “Oh! Mindanao! Mindanao!” had come in a chorus. “Yes, Mindanao, only a few hundred miles away, in the Philippines,” he went on. “And with this island in our possession we shall be able to soften up Mindanao for the final attack.”