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Coming over he tried a burst on one of the FW's. It was a long shot, but the Jerry was lined up neatly in his sight. The heavy guns of the P-51 roared and bucked. Up ahead the FW wobbled and dived. The other two went up for altitude. Stan went up, too. The P-51 was a high-altitude lady and would do better up where she had rare air and plenty of space.
Sim was flying his cover, having dropped back for that purpose. "I guess he's all right," Stan muttered. "He's making it his personal business to see that I get through." At that moment two FW's dived down at the tail ships. Stan did not shift course. All Sim had to do was to make a pass at the Jerries, loop over and shoo them away. Suddenly Stan realized Sim was not making a pass.
He saw nothing of O'Malley but he did see two wrecked planes at the far edge of the field away from the hill. Nosing down Stan dived toward the field. The two FW's dived after him, but he soon eased away from them. Sweeping in a few yards above the runway, Stan laid over just a little. He checked the wrecks and saw that one of them was Sim's ship. The other was an FW fighter minus one wing.
"We'll see what you have to offer, sister," he said softly as he kicked the Mustang wide open and laid her over. The big ship responded with a surge of power that yanked her into the sky and over in a perfect roll before Stan could decide what was going on. Leveling off, Stan looked for the FW's. They had missed him by a wide margin. Stan grinned. "You don't need a pilot, lady," he said.
The FW's had been joined by five Me 110's, but the Jerries did not close with him. Stan headed for home as fast as the P-51 could travel, which topped four hundred miles per hour by a wide margin. He was roaring along with no opposition in sight and a clear sky around him when he suddenly spotted a plane in his mirror. It was overhauling him rapidly. Suddenly Stan grinned.
One big fellow was out of formation and having a tough time. Fifteen FW's were after it. "We'll go down and have a crack at those FW's on that Fort," Stan called. "So long, Sim, see you at mess!" One after another the six special Thunderbolts zoomed down upon the FW's. They came down in a screaming dive and their first burst sent five FW's smoking to earth. Instantly the whole battle changed.
The FW's dropped in behind, unable to head him off, but the Me's came on like falcons trapping a homing pigeon. Stan felt a good deal like a pigeon. He was unarmed and he was carrying a vital message that had to get through. He dived down close to the water and roared ahead. One Me dived in on him and zoomed over him.
Stan settled down close to the channel again and kept racing on. The FW's were sloping in at a screaming pace. Stan felt their first lead as it hailed around him. He stayed in the fire a split second, then bounced up and over. He saw the three FW's far below him. They were coming around for another climb. "Sorry, fellows, but I just can't wait," Stan muttered.
"O'Malley spotted a big fighter base all equipped with vanishing planes." Stan got to the point he wanted to discuss at once. "There must be dozens of them, but we have never been able to spot any of them to knock them out. Those Me's and FW's just sprout out of the ground as we go along." Allison frowned and shook his head.
Stan eased away from the FW's and did not challenge them. They circled, taking a good look at this new type of fighter. They had learned from sad experience that any new Yank ship might prove to be deadly. The Forts had taught them that. Stan was well up now where he could look down on the flight strip below.
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