ace.

Checking his gasoline supply, he judged he could get to the middle of
the channel. He had no parachute and no life belt or Mae West suit to
float him. The chill water of the channel would soon drag him down. He
had to locate a patrol boat or a British ship of some other class. And
he had to watch for Messerschmitts and Focke-Wulf fighters.

High above him he spotted three fighter craft. He saw them wheel and
bank into the sun. They would be coming downstairs to have a look.
Possibly they had been warned by radio to look for him. A minute later
he spotted five more planes and these he was able to check. They were FW
190 fighters and they were coming up from the direction of Ostende on
the Belgium coast. Then he saw two Me 109 Stingers slipping in from the
other side. Stan kicked the Mustang wide open. No use trying to save gas
by holding cruising speed. He had to get away from that coast.

The Mustang knifed ahead and Stan bent forward as the air-speed
indicator rolled up to just under four hundred miles per hour. There was
no more boost and he longed for the dual supercharger. 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 felt lead spattering
all over his ship and saw cannon shells hit the sea close below his
wings. The second Me came in and Stan slipped a bit, kicking the top of
a wave with his port wing.

The Jerry was coming down at a terrific rate. He did not think any sane
flier would be zooming along on the crests of the waves. When Stan
dipped, the Jerry missed him and shot past. Stan pulled up sharply just
as a great cloud of water and smoke lifted above the sea. The Jerry had
hit nose-on. Stan saw the tail of his ship and one square-tipped wing
rise above the green water, then slip from sight.

In coming up Stan went over the third Me. It managed to flatten out but
went skidding along the tops of the waves for a half mile before it got
into the air again.

That gave Stan his chance to get away. He could outrun the Me's once he
got them down on his level, where they could not use their diving speed.
But the three fighter craft he had first spotted were coming down now.
They were dangerous ships. All three of them were FW 190