"Okay, wise guy! That puts you one up
for the day. But the sun hasn't set yet. So keep right up there on your
toes, my lad. Well, this must be ours."

As Dave spoke the last he returned the salute of the corporal driver,
who had straightened to attention.

"This the H.Q. taxi, Corporal?" he asked.

"I guess you could call it that, sir," the non-com said with a chuckle.
"Step right in and it will take you there itself. It sure has made
enough trips these last couple of days to be able to do it on its own."

"Really?" Freddy Farmer murmured. "All Air Forces officers, Corporal?"

"No, not all, sir," the non-com replied. "About fifty-fifty Army and
Navy, sir, I'd say. Quite a bunch of them, too. I guess maybe
something's being cooked up for Tojo and his boys. High time, I'm
thinking, too. We're quite a few runs behind them tramps."

"But we'll catch up, don't worry," Dawson assured him. "They took first
swings, you know, so our team will get last swings. And I do mean last
swings, too."

The non-com driver nodded and grinned broadly. Then as he held the car
door open for the pair to climb in, he let his eyes rest on their
decoration ribbons.

"Yeah, Captain," he grunted, "we get last swings. But I can see that you
two officers ain't been exactly hitting loud fouls every time you came
up. Nailed plenty of them slant eyes, huh?"

"A couple, I guess," Dave grinned. "But they were probably fledglings on
their first time out."

"Yeah, I bet, I bet!" the corporal snorted, and slid in behind the
wheel. "Well, here goes for trip nine thousand and something!"

Regardless of what number trip it was for that corporal, it was
certainly the fastest, wildest ride that either Dawson or Freddy Farmer
had ever had in a car. When they finally pulled up in front of the
building that served as USAFFE Headquarters (United States Armed Forces
in the Far East) they were both quite certain that they had left ten
years of their lives somewhere along the road. As he climbed out, Dave
took a five-dollar bill from his pocket and offered it to the driver.
But the non-com shook his head.

"That's okay, sir, and thanks just the same," he said. "I used to drive
a hack in New York before the draft nailed me. So I know right guys when
I see them. I don't want no tip, sir."

"It isn't a tip," Dave grinned, and dropped the bill in the driver's
lap. "Just a little something to buy stuff from the hospital canteen with
while you're convalescing.