Dave's cry to Freddy Farmer was just a waste of breath, for the English youth was already out of his seat with all the speed of a bullet leaving the muzzle of a gun. And it was also a waste of effort for either of them to dive down on the limp Baron von Khole. The German was completely unconscious and the deep bleeding cut in the top of his head made by contact with the fuselage girder was proof positive that he would remain unconscious for a long, long time to come. Just the same, the two fighting aces of the Royal Air Force took no chances. They took the Luger from von Khole's limp fingers, and then trussed him up tight with a length of spare mooring line.

"Beautiful, Dave!" Freddy panted as they got to their feet. "I never dreamed you had that in mind. I saw you inching your foot up but it didn't even dawn on me that you were trying to get it braced against the control column so that you could shove the nose down and spill him off his feet."

"Thank goodness it didn't even dawn on von Khole, what I was up to," Dave said with a big sigh. "But just a tap would have laid him out cold. He was still a bit punch drunk from that other crack he got on his dome."

"And to think he's been aboard and hiding aft all the time we've been in the air!" Freddy said in a slightly shaky voice. "Good grief, it gives a chap the creeps! I...."

"Let it ride, and stop thinking about it!" Dave snapped and vaulted back into the pilot's seat. "Get going on that radio, and see if we can get that raider to change her course. If we can't, then there's just one thing left for us to do."

Freddy Farmer didn't bother to ask what that was. He leaped into the co-pilot's seat and went hammer and tongs at the radio. Dave hauled the Catalina out of the dive into which he had kicked her with his foot, and climbed her up and around in the direction of the steaming raider and her flock of U-boats. Every second the raider kept on steaming northward he was filled with a great desire to yell at Freddy for speed, and more speed. But he knew that the English youth was doing his level best to reestablish contact by radio.

And then, when perhaps a year or two had dragged by, Dave suddenly looked out the window on Freddy's side of the compartment, sat up straight and yelled.

"Too late, now, Freddy!" he bellowed and rapped his pal on the arm with his free hand. "She won't listen to us, now. There's planes coming, and they're Nazis. Get aft to the tail gun. Action coming up, and coming up fast!"

Freddy Farmer jerked up his head, tore off the earphones and shot a look out the window. In practically a continuation of the general movement he started scrambling out of the seat.

"It's going to be hot, Dave!" he shouted, but there was no note of fear in his voice. "Hot as blazes. But what about the raider? We can't let her get away from us! Blast von Khole from breaking into our party. The Fleet planes and...."

"Skip it!" Dave barked. "Too late for that stuff, now. It's up to us, Freddy. Keep them off our tail as long as you can. I'm going down and dump our eggs on that raider. If we can't sink her maybe we can at least cripple her. Get aft, pal, and give the bums jumping blue blazes for the good old Royal Air Force!"

Freddy Farmer hesitated a moment, snapped a quick glance at the raider they were now fast overhauling, and then gripped Dave hard on the arm.

"Right you are, old thing!" he shouted. "You plaster her, and I'll jolly well plaster them! See you sometime, somewhere!"

"I'll be there, pal!" Dave cried as Freddy ducked aft.

Jerking his head front Dave fastened his gaze on the raider, shoved the control column forward and sent the Catalina thundering down in a long dive. Even before he had lost a couple of hundred feet of altitude he heard the savage ear splitting chatter of many aerial machine guns going into action. Their sound told him they were German guns. Then an instant later he heard the sharper and louder chatter of Freddy Farmer's guns giving answer.

"With Freddy back there picking them off, we're as safe as in church!" he muttered through set lips. "There isn't a guy in the whole Royal Air Force who can shoot like Freddy. He...."

Br-r-r-r-at!

The smack of a burst of bullets slapping against one of the compartment windows cut off Dave's sentence as though with a knife. He swallowed and instinctively ducked.

"And there's some lug flying for Hitler who isn't so bad himself!" he breathed and ruddered sharply to get out of the line of fire.

As the movement took him around slightly he caught sight of the raging ball of fire tumbling down out of the air toward the sea. He couldn't tell the exact type of the plane, but he knew that it was German. Freddy Farmer had scored first blood.

"And that's only the beginning, you tramps!" he howled and ruddered back toward the raider. "So why don't you guys get wise and go on home? Freddy...."

For the second time in as many minutes sound choked off the rest of what Dave was about to say. This time it was not the crack or slap of German aerial machine gun bullets. It was louder, and deeper, like the earth trembling bark of a gigantic dog. And even as the thunderous sound came to his ears he caught sight of the flame centered globs of ugly black smoke that appeared just off the right wing. And a snap, glance downward at the raider and her U-boats told him what he already knew. The German boats had broken out their anti-aircraft guns and were trying desperately to finish what the attacking long range German sea raiding planes had started.

The sky raking fire from below blasted Dave's last hope that they might still be able to fool the raider. A slim, crazy hope in view of the fact that those aboard the raider could most certainly see him roaring down at them. However, he had clung to that hope, crazy as it was. But now it was gone. Now it was a fight to the finish. German planes, U-boats, and a heavily armed sea raider against a lone R.A.F. Catalina flying boat of the Coastal Command manned by two stout hearted, do-or-die youths still in their teens.

"Okay, you've got the idea!" Dave shouted at the raider. "So here we come with the old one-two punch."

As the words rushed off his lips, Dave steepened his wing howling dive slightly, then took one hand from the Dep control wheel and grabbed the bomb release toggles especially fitted to the side of the compartment so that the pilot could still release eggs in case the bombing officer was killed during an action. One hand gripping the Dep wheel, and the other gripping the bomb release toggles, he sent the Catalina rocketing down lower and lower, straight through a sea of bursting, roaring flame that rose up from the guns of the raider and the U-boats.

Split seconds whipped by. He felt the Catalina buck and tremble as bits of archie shell crashed into her. He heard the steady chatter of Freddy Farmer's guns aft, and he saw two more balls of flame go tumbling seaward off to his right. And then it seemed as though the hull nose of the Catalina was going to smash right down into the black smoke belching funnel of the raider. He was so close he could see the white faces of the raider's crew crouched behind their guns and frantically striving to bring their weapons to bear right on him. He even saw some members of the crew banging away at him with machine guns, and even rifles.

He heard and saw all those things as in a dream. Then in the last split second to spare he hauled the nose of the Catalina up out of its mad dive. The instant it came up level and was rocketing forward at terrific speed he yanked back a brace of bomb release toggles. No sooner had he dropped his eggs than he pulled back on the Dep wheel control, dropped the right wing slightly and went careening around and up toward the sun flooded heavens.

No sooner had he started up than his sharp eyes caught the flash of German wings cutting in at him from an angle. His free hand flew to the forward machine gun trigger button on the stick. He booted the Catalina around a bit more at the same time, and then let go with his forward guns. Through a blur he saw that the German craft was a Junkers Ju 88, one of the most deadly type of raiders Hitler was sending against British convoys. It had both bomb power and great fire power as well. It was nothing to fool around with, and Dave didn't waste time fooling. He plastered the nose of the craft, and forced the pilot to turn away. That was the German's fatal mistake. It gave Dave a belly shot, and he took full advantage of the opportunity. He gave the Junkers everything. And a split second later it was all over for the plane and its crew. It exploded in a billion flaming pieces that seemed to go arching out toward the four horizons.

"My regards to Satan!" Dave howled at the top of his voice. "You'll be seeing him before I do, and how!"

That off his chest, Dave hauled the nose even higher and plowed straight for a long range Focke-Wulf 187 twin engined job that was trying to cut down under Freddy Farmer's withering fire from the tail turret of the Catalina. That too was a bad maneuver on the part of another one of Goering's little boys. Dave's slashing burst practically cut the Focke-Wulf in two. It stopped dead in midair as though it had smacked straight into an invisible brick wall. Then it buckled in the middle, and started slowly spinning seaward.

"Cheating on you, Freddy!" Dave shouted. "But the shot was too good to pass up. I...."

Dave stopped short as the whole sky seemed to suddenly turn into a sea of blinding red, and orange, and yellow. The Catalina shook and trembled as a thunderous blast of sound rushed in upon it from all sides. For one horrible heart stopping second Dave thought that an anti-aircraft shell from the raider or one of the U-boats below had scored a direct hit on them and that the Catalina was going up in flame. In the next instant he saw the truth; saw the mighty sheet of flame off to the left that was sliding straight down to the sea leaving behind a towering column of oily black smoke and flaming bits of debris. A second look at it and his heart burst with pride. Freddy hadn't even been paying any attention to the Focke-Wulf trying to get in at him. Instead he had ignored it for bigger game. The largest and most powerful of Hitler's aerial sea raiders. A mighty four engined Focke-Wulf "Kurier." The so-called Flying Fortress of the Nazi Air Force with tremendous bomb, and cannon, and machine gun fire power. And Freddy Farmer had brought it down. Sent it hurtling down in flames never to fly again in this war, or in this world.

In spite of the showers of death that were still whining and howling about the Catalina as it prop-clawed up for altitude, Dave threw back his head and laughed.

"And I thought I was taking a Nazi away from under your nose, Freddy!" he shouted aloud. "Heck! I should have realized that you couldn't be bothered with small fry. What a man, what a man!"

Nodding his head in vigorous emphasis, Dave cut out of his zoom, curved around on wingtip to throw off the aim of another Focke-Wulf trying to cut in at him, and snapped a glance down at the water. What he saw brought a yell of wild joy to his lips. Flame and smoke were belching up out of the raider's vitals amidships. And a bit astern of her two U-boats were lunging helplessly in a whirlpool of frothy water. But his joy was short lived. Though the raider had been hit, and was obviously afire, her engines were still doing their work. She was still cutting through the foam flecked rollers at top speed. Even as Dave realized the truth the belching smoke and flame diminished considerably. The raider's crew had got the bomb fire under control, and the raider was still hurling tons of anti-aircraft steel skyward.

At that moment Dave felt rather than saw movement at his side. He snapped his head around a bit to see Freddy Farmer scramble over and into the co-pilot's seat. The English youth's face was paper white but there was a wild determined look in his eyes.

"Rear gun ammo all gone!" he shouted before Dave could ask the question. "There wasn't half enough aboard! What did they think we might have to fight? A few training planes? It's up to you, Dave! You hit her once. Now hit her again and finish the blighter, and be-darned to these Jerry buzzards whizzing around us. Go on, Dave! Go on down and get her good this time. It's our last chance. You'll never have time to make a third bomb dive on her!"

"Last chance!" Dave echoed and shoved the Catalina's nose almost down to the vertical. "Last chance! And we'll make it final for that baby, too!"