Collection 1986 - Night Over The Solomons (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour Page A
Authors: Louis L’Amour
Tags: Usenet
Ads: Link
the pit of his stomach and plunged over on his face.
Joe Gotto, down on one knee, was raking the killers with his tommy gun. Steve Cowan fired again, and the line broke and ran.
Lunging across the clearing, Cowan swept Joe Gotto to one shoulder and ran for the mangroves. Beyond, the amphibian’s twin motors were roaring music in his ears.
Almost at the same instant, a plane roared by overhead. Cowan glanced up, swearing. It was a Kawasaki. It was circling for a return when Cowan boosted Joe into the cabin and then grabbed the controls.
“Strap him in!” he yelled. “Get set! I’ve got to fight that Jap!”
He opened the plane wide and let her roar down the open water, throttle wide. Just short of the trees he pulled back on the stick, and the amphibian went up in a steep climb.
Roaring on over the casuarinas, Cowan gave a startled gasp. A long, slim gray destroyer was alongside the
Parawan
, and a stream of Japanese sailors and marines were running up the gangway!
Then he pulled back on the stick again just as the Kawasaki came screaming back toward him. Opening the ship wide, he fled; for the enemy was on his tail and his only safety at this low altitude lay in speed.
A roaring chatter broke out in Steve Cowan’s ears. Turning his head, he saw Joe Gotto, strapped in a seat, firing his tommy gun out the port.
The burst of bullets missed, but the Japanese wavered. In that instant, Cowan skidded around in a flat turn, raking the Kawasaki with a quick burst of fire. But the soldier was no fool. Screaming around in a tight circle, he tried to reach Cowan with his twin guns in the nose, while his observed opened fire from the rear cockpit.
A bullet hole showed in the wing. Then Cowan pulled the amphibian on around and climbed steeply. Rolling over before the enemy could follow, he poured a stream of fire into the Kawasaki’s ugly blunt nose.
The engine coughed, sputtered. Then Cowan banked steeply and came back with the son of Nippon dead in his sights. His guns roared. The Kawasaki burst into a roaring flame and went out of sight.
Then for the first time Cowan heard a pounding in his ears. Off to his left a puff of smoke flowered. Glancing down, he realized with a shock that the destroyer’s anti-aircraft guns were opening up on him.
He pulled the stick back and shot up into the sky, reaching for all the altitude he could get. He was still climbing in tight spirals when he rolled over a little to obtain a better view.
It was like that, with Steve Cowan watching the scene below, when it happened. He had forgotten the time bomb. He had forgotten everything in the rush of action. How it had been set, he never knew. But suddenly, after these long hours, it turned loose with a tremendous detonation.
----
A PYRAMID OF flame shot skyward until Cowan thought his own wings, hundreds of feet above, must be singed. The puff of the explosion struck his ship and sent it staggering down the sky. He got it righted, banked steeply and circled slowly over the roaring fire below.
The
Parawan
was gone. Where it had been was a mass of flaming wreckage. Beside it settled the Japanese destroyer, ablaze from stem to stern, with the bay around it for many yards a furnace of burning oil.
Steve Cowan leveled off and then pointed his ship south.
“Better have a look at Joe,” he said to Ruanne. “He may be hit bad.”
“Aw, it’s nothin’,” Joe protested, blushing. “Take me somewhere where I can join the Army. Boy, what I just seen! And me, I thought Brooklyn’s ‘Murder, Incorporated’ was tough!”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
----
PIRATES WITH WINGS
There have always been men who went down to the sea, not those born to it, as men from the seaports, fishermen, and the like, but drifters whose restlessness led them down to the deep waters. Life at sea has never been an easy life, although conditions have improved drastically in the last fifty years. It is hard, demanding, and never without danger. It has been my good fortune
Joe Gotto, down on one knee, was raking the killers with his tommy gun. Steve Cowan fired again, and the line broke and ran.
Lunging across the clearing, Cowan swept Joe Gotto to one shoulder and ran for the mangroves. Beyond, the amphibian’s twin motors were roaring music in his ears.
Almost at the same instant, a plane roared by overhead. Cowan glanced up, swearing. It was a Kawasaki. It was circling for a return when Cowan boosted Joe into the cabin and then grabbed the controls.
“Strap him in!” he yelled. “Get set! I’ve got to fight that Jap!”
He opened the plane wide and let her roar down the open water, throttle wide. Just short of the trees he pulled back on the stick, and the amphibian went up in a steep climb.
Roaring on over the casuarinas, Cowan gave a startled gasp. A long, slim gray destroyer was alongside the
Parawan
, and a stream of Japanese sailors and marines were running up the gangway!
Then he pulled back on the stick again just as the Kawasaki came screaming back toward him. Opening the ship wide, he fled; for the enemy was on his tail and his only safety at this low altitude lay in speed.
A roaring chatter broke out in Steve Cowan’s ears. Turning his head, he saw Joe Gotto, strapped in a seat, firing his tommy gun out the port.
The burst of bullets missed, but the Japanese wavered. In that instant, Cowan skidded around in a flat turn, raking the Kawasaki with a quick burst of fire. But the soldier was no fool. Screaming around in a tight circle, he tried to reach Cowan with his twin guns in the nose, while his observed opened fire from the rear cockpit.
A bullet hole showed in the wing. Then Cowan pulled the amphibian on around and climbed steeply. Rolling over before the enemy could follow, he poured a stream of fire into the Kawasaki’s ugly blunt nose.
The engine coughed, sputtered. Then Cowan banked steeply and came back with the son of Nippon dead in his sights. His guns roared. The Kawasaki burst into a roaring flame and went out of sight.
Then for the first time Cowan heard a pounding in his ears. Off to his left a puff of smoke flowered. Glancing down, he realized with a shock that the destroyer’s anti-aircraft guns were opening up on him.
He pulled the stick back and shot up into the sky, reaching for all the altitude he could get. He was still climbing in tight spirals when he rolled over a little to obtain a better view.
It was like that, with Steve Cowan watching the scene below, when it happened. He had forgotten the time bomb. He had forgotten everything in the rush of action. How it had been set, he never knew. But suddenly, after these long hours, it turned loose with a tremendous detonation.
----
A PYRAMID OF flame shot skyward until Cowan thought his own wings, hundreds of feet above, must be singed. The puff of the explosion struck his ship and sent it staggering down the sky. He got it righted, banked steeply and circled slowly over the roaring fire below.
The
Parawan
was gone. Where it had been was a mass of flaming wreckage. Beside it settled the Japanese destroyer, ablaze from stem to stern, with the bay around it for many yards a furnace of burning oil.
Steve Cowan leveled off and then pointed his ship south.
“Better have a look at Joe,” he said to Ruanne. “He may be hit bad.”
“Aw, it’s nothin’,” Joe protested, blushing. “Take me somewhere where I can join the Army. Boy, what I just seen! And me, I thought Brooklyn’s ‘Murder, Incorporated’ was tough!”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
----
PIRATES WITH WINGS
There have always been men who went down to the sea, not those born to it, as men from the seaports, fishermen, and the like, but drifters whose restlessness led them down to the deep waters. Life at sea has never been an easy life, although conditions have improved drastically in the last fifty years. It is hard, demanding, and never without danger. It has been my good fortune
Similar Books
