rush, with parachutes to adjust and flying suits to climb into. Stan
paid no more attention to Garret until they were outside.

The three Spitfires of Red Flight were throbbing with restrained power
on the cab rank. Stan felt better about sliding into his cockpit because
the sun was shining and he could see the silver wires attached to the
hydrogen gorged balloons. This was better.

The flight sergeants had cleared the ships and Allison had gotten his
orders from the recording officer. In another minute the lead Spitfire
had cramped about and was sliding toward the line. Stan swung into place
and watched Garret get set. The new flier slid his plane up to the line
with showy flash, gunning and idling the big motor in a way that made
Stan's nerves rasp. To him a motor was a living thing and he hated to
see one abused.

"Steady, Red Flight," Allison was snapping into his flap mike. "Check
your temperatures."

Stan called back his O.K. Garret did not clear. Allison's voice came in
angry, cold.

"Are you set, Garret?"

"Sure, big boy, I'm always set," Garret replied.

"Then sound off as you should," Allison snapped.

A second later they were off, tails lifting, boring across the turf.
With a wrenching lift, they bounced up and lifted into the blue where
big clouds floated over the city of London. Allison's voice came in. The
crispness was gone and the drawl was there again.

"Close formation, and keep it close all the way out. We're headed for
emergency work below the Thames estuary. Junkers Ju 87's for breakfast."

The Spitfires closed in and roared away, gaining altitude as they bored
into the early morning light. In a very short time the twisting streets,
the masses of little squares that were blocks of buildings faded away
below them. Allison took them up above the fleecy clouds and into the
great, high-piled formations.

"Ought to find them sneaking around up here," he drawled.

Stan looked out upon the mountains of clouds and the patches of blue
sky. The Junkers Ju 87's were dive bombers, popularly known as Stukas,
and their presence meant a raid upon shipping.

"Red Flight, keep west by south. Red Flight, keep west by south." It was
the control room at the field sending them directions from the big room
with the table which had a huge map spread on it. On that map were toy
planes which the watchers shoved about with wooden rakes.

Ahead, Allison broke out of the feathery edge of a cloud into a great