“Mindanao,” Kentucky thought now as he gripped the controls. “They say the Japs have a prison camp there, where our men are starving and dying. We’ll walk in there some day and take that big island. We’ll free the prisoners. What a day that will be! Then it’s Manila, and after that the China coast. Boy! Will we harvest a sweet revenge for the things those Japs have done to the American prisoners!” He studied his instruments, looked to the loading of his guns, glanced back at his formation, then, drawing a long breath, murmured: “Well, Tojo, here we come!” The dive bombers climbed to twelve thousand feet. Kentucky and his fighters kept straight on. As they neared the island he spoke a few words of instruction through his mike to his three companions. Words came back to him. Then, opening his throttle wide, he set his motor roaring. Coming in fast and low, they took the Japs by surprise. Scores of little brown men were racing for the airfield when they came in, nearly grazing the palm trees. Some thirty planes were still on the field. Breaking formation, the “four horsemen” zoomed in upon the planes and the racing pilots. With machine-gun fire they sent the Japs scurrying for shelter. Then with tracer bullets they riddled the grounded planes. Leaving the field in flames, they swung skyward to rejoin the screen of fighters, bombers, and torpedo planes. Ten minutes more and the air was filled with the rattle of machine-gun fire and the island became an inferno of bursting bombs. The torpedo planes discovered three cargo ships and two destroyers in the small harbor and, coming in low, released their “tin fish.” Bursting torpedoes added their horror to the general confusion of sound. A ship exploded, another keeled over and sank, and a third was run aground. Jap destroyers streaked away, but even their top speed was no match for Kentucky and his followers. “After them, fellows!” he shouted. “Remember Pearl Harbor!” Skimming in over the sea, they peppered the deck of a destroyer with slugs until not a man was left standing on deck. Lowering their aim, they began to puncture the destroyer’s thin hull. A film of oil appeared on the water. “Give it to her!” Kentucky shouted into his phone. “We’ve struck oil. Let’s make it a gusher!” Just then a dive bomber came screaming down to lay its egg squarely on the destroyer’s deck. “That got her!” Kentucky exulted, as the craft exploded. “Come on now. Gas is low. Let’s beat it back home for chow.” It was such a day as a flier would never forget. As they sped away, Marines from barges and small boats were swarming ashore. The stepping stone to Mindanao was now all but won. “Jeepers!” Kentucky exclaimed into his mike. “I wish Jack and Stew—yes, and Ted too—could have been in on this. Wonder where Ted is right now? We’ll have to take a look.” Ted was not faring badly. The balmy breezes had dried out his clothes, and dawn had come, but there was no sign of their task force.