Down In Flames

By Jack B Patton

In 1944, Lieutenants Stacey and Bell roar into cloud-busting battle when they set out to make reprisals of their own against the Axis!

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pattonstones Digitals
• Release date: Sep 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215436066

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In 1944, Lieutenants Stacey and Bell roar into cloud-busting battle when they set out to make reprisals of their own against the Axis!

CHAPTER I

Vanished Wings

THE sun was a fading ball of flame balanced on the western rim of the Mediterranean. The shadows of night were rushing up with all the speed and ominousness of an approaching hurricane as the U. S. Aircraft Carrier Bennington slowly traced a huge circle in the sunset-tinted waters. To port and to star-board her destroyer escort trailed her like so many faithful watch dogs.

Aboard the Bennington there was not a single smile. From Admiral Porter down to the lowest rating, every officer and seaman went about his job grim-faced, or stood raking the darkening heavens through binoculars.

One of those topside was Lieutenant Stud Stacey. He was a tall man, six-two, who had a pair of shoulders to go with his height. And he had earned the right to wear the Navy Cross under his wings that day in December when the treacherous sons of the Rising Sun slammed down on Pearl Harbor.

Four of those rats had not pulled out of their dive that day, and Stud Stacey was the reason.

With one arm hooked around a port crash net stanchion, Stacey searched the heavens until his eyes smarted. He slowly lowered the glasses, and groaned.

It can’t be navigation, he muttered. Old Saunders is a homing pigeon if there ever was one.

The best, grunted Lieutenant Jake Bell who stood at his side. So they must have bumped into trouble.

And they had orders to fly with radios dead, Stacey said. Nobody’s supposed to know we are here in the Mediterranean.

No, nobody! Bell snorted. Except maybe half the Italian and Nazi Secret Service. Wonder how long the Old Man’s going to stick here?

Until dark, Stacey said. And that’ll be in a few minutes. Six planes, and not a sign of one of them. Maybe, though, they’ll catch us after dark, and come aboard under flares.

Not a chance, Bell said, and shook his head. I checked with the flight officer. They had fuel until seven-fifteen. It’s seven-thirty now.

At that moment, as though Admiral Porter suddenly realized that further waiting was a waste of time and a danger to the Bennington, the huge aircraft carrier suddenly went cutting due westward at increased speed. Stud Stacey took one final look at the shadow-blurred heavens, and slipped the binoculars into their case.

Jake, he said, all of those guys were pals of mine. I’ve got to find out, for sure. We can’t just steam off and leave them to fall into the drink!

They’re in the drink already, Bell said quietly.

Look, Stacey said grimly, "we’ve got a twin-engined Grumman utility amphibian aboard. And she’s got tanks for fourteen hours. If we took off just before dawn we could cover the whole area of their flight, and catch up with the Bennington by noon, easy. We might find some of the boys still floating."

We, huh? Bell murmured.

They were your pals, too, weren’t they? Stacey shot at him. Also, you’re a good navigator. You don’t want to come along?"

Sure, I do, Bell said. But there’s the little matter of Admiral Porter, and some of his four stripes. Maybe they won’t like the idea.

That's what we’ll find out, now, Stacey said and turned. Come on.

––––––––

Stacey’s hands felt wet and clammy, and a cold lump tried to clog up his throat. He had seen buddies of his die in the air, and there had been a few other occasions when a plane or two had roared off the flight deck, never to be seen again. But this time, six planes had gone away. Six