had not spotted them. They were put down as Mosquito bombers out hunting
locomotives and trains:

"We're coming in now," O'Malley called.

He had swung wide of Huls and was headed for some low hills. Knifing
over the the nearest hill, with their bellies scraping the tops of a row
of trees, the three P-51's nosed into a little valley.

Suddenly Stan saw the airfield O'Malley had spotted. In a snap guess he
placed the number of planes lined up at one hundred. They were in a
long row at the base of a hill. Runways led out to a wide flight strip.

"Strafe them!" he shouted.

The order was not necessary. O'Malley and Sim were going straight down
the line of planes, their guns blasting flame and lead. The target was
so narrow that Stan had to stall and slip a bit to drop behind in order
to get a shot at the line.

The Mustangs went over so fast the Germans did not have time to fire a
shot at them. Not a plane moved, except those which blew up or burst
into flames under the withering fire from the Yank guns. Up the P-51's
went and over the ridge. They were roaring along at such a pace that it
took a long zoom and bank to get lined up for a return trip.

When they came back over, the Germans were ready for them. Smoke makers
were billowing thick haze over the scene and every imaginable sort of
gun was slamming lead and steel into the sky. The air above the field
was thick with flaming muck. O'Malley was out in front with Sim close
off his port wing. He went into the muck low down. Stan came in a bit
behind his pals.

Looking down into the flaming muzzles of the guns Stan stared hard.
There wasn't a plane in sight! Not even the burning ships or those
blasted to bits could be seen. There was nothing but the green slope of
the hill and the smooth runways leading to the flight strip.

"Well, what do you know!" he muttered.

At that instant the muck enveloped him along with the pall of smoke from
the edges of the field. Just ahead of him he saw something that looked
like a huge rocket lift toward Sim's ship. It exploded with a blinding
flash directly under the P-51. Sim's ship shot upward and a wing swirled
away like a dark strip of paper torn from a wall. Then the P-51 nosed
into the ground and exploded. Cold sweat broke out all over Stan's body
as he pulled his ship over and up.

At five thousand feet up and well away from the hot spot, Stan took
stock. He tried to call O'Malley and found his radio was shot out.
Look