little before the take-off. At the end of five seconds, he eased off the
throttles, kicked off the wheel brakes, and let the Messerschmitt
trundle forward out of line with the other aircraft. No sooner was he in
the open and swerving left toward the long way of the field, than the
chattering yammer of a machine gun rose above the general roar, and he
heard the deathly whine of bullets passing overhead. He also heard a
wild yell from Freddy Farmer's lips, but he didn't dare twist around in
the seat and look back. He didn't because he was pointing the long way
of the desert strip now, and was ready to ram his throttles wide open.
In front of him was a milling mass of Germans. He was that a furious
attempt was being made by a Messerschmitt 109 pilot to trundle his
single-seater out of line and onto the desert strip to block the way!

Stark terror gripped Dave's heart as he saw the nose of that
single-seater moving out toward the line of his take-off. He had
impulsively rammed both of his throttles wide open, and his aircraft was
leaping forward like a shell leaving the mouth of a cannon. Whether or
not he would pass that moving 109 in time was something that was in the
lap of the gods.

Touch and go, and it was instinct more than sane thought that gave him a
new lease on life. As the Messerschmitt 110 rocketed forward toward the
milling mass of Nazis and the Messerschmitt 109 rolled out into his path
beyond, Dawson jabbed the electric trigger button of the ME's guns and
punched the air-cannon firing knob. Instantly the plane bucked and
jumped madly as the guns yammered and pounded, and it was all Dawson
could do to hold it on its straight take-off line.

"Gangway, bums, or take it!" he roared at the top of his voice. "Leap
for your lives, or else!"

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

_Eagles Come Through_

Words, crazy, insane words poured from Dave Dawson's lips as he held the
Messerschmitt 110 as steady as a rock and guided it forward at full
throttle. Perhaps his actions were as crazy and insane as his words. For
every German his guns sent spinning to the ground, two more seemed to
come bounding out of nowhere with blazing sub-machine guns in their
hands. The Messerschmitt 109 that was being rolled out to block his path
loomed up larger and larger with every split second until it seemed to
fill the entire desert valley almost directly in front of his prop.

Yes, perhaps crazy, perhaps insane, and perhaps totally and hopel