other guessing up some answers. What would happen, would
happen. And, after all, what was one more hour in this mysterious
business?

What was one more hour? The gods of war on high could have told him.
They could have told him it was just one more hour in which the Grim
Reaper could steal closer and make ready to strike a blow that would
stun the entire civilized world!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

_Goering's Snoopers_

"Anything else I can get you, sir?"

Dawson glanced up at the mess orderly standing by the table, shook his
head, and smiled.

"No thanks, Corporal," he said. "I've had all I can hold. How about you,
Freddy?"

"I'm finished, too," the English youth said with a contented sigh. "That
hit the spot, Corporal. My compliments."

"Thank you, sir," the mess orderly said, and beamed his pleasure.

"Tell me, where is everybody, Corporal?" Dawson asked, and waved a hand
at the empty mess room. "Out on patrol?"

"Oh, no, sir," the orderly explained. "This is only a stop-over base for
pilots and equipment headed for the front. We don't fly any patrols from
here, sir, though a few of the pilots have been taking a whack at
Goering's Snoopers, whenever they get close enough."

"_Goering's Snoopers?_" Dawson echoed with a puzzled look. "Do you mean
Nazi bombing raids on this place?"

"No, sir," the other replied promptly. "And that's the funny part of it,
too. Not one of them has come within gun range of this place. Fact is,
only once since they started their funny business three days ago, have
we seen them. Then they were so high, they were no more than dots. I
heard one of the pilots say, though, that they were long-range Junkers.
Goering's Snoopers, we call them, because they seem to hang around all
the time, but do nothing. I wish we did have a regular squadron of
fighter planes here, though. Those Junkers get on my nerves. A darn
funny business, if you ask me, sir."

Neither Dawson nor Farmer made any comment for a moment. They simply
exchanged glances, and each knew what the other was thinking. Thinking
of the mysterious flock of Junkers Ju-88's they had seen a hundred
miles or so off the coast.

"Phantom ships, eh, Corporal?" Dawson finally spoke. "Any of the pilots
who went up after them lucky enough to nail one?"

"Yes, I think so, sir," the orderly replied with a nod. "Day before
yesterday they say a P-38 pilot got one of them. It was way inland near
Marrakech. I heard the pilot had just enou