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Read Ebook: A Yankee Flier in the Far East by Montgomery Rutherford G Rutherford George Laune Paul Illustrator
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Ebook has 1189 lines and 39994 words, and 24 pages
I REST CURE IN SINGAPORE 1
II CHINA WINGS 15
V RESCUE MISSION 62
VI ATTACK 86
X TEMPLE WITH A RED ROOF 156
A YANKEE FLIER IN THE FAR EAST
REST CURE IN SINGAPORE
The air squadron mess of the Royal Air Force, Near East Command, was hot and close. Outside, white sunlight glared down on the steaming pavement and on the rank vegetation growing against a rock wall. Beyond that rock wall rose the marble and stone buildings of the city of Singapore.
Lieutenant O'Malley of the Royal Air Force elevated his feet to the top of a chair and lay back against a damp cushion. He craned his long neck and looked out upon the sweltering scene. Little rivers of sweat trickled down his neck and spread out under his shirt. Sadly, O'Malley contemplated the large slab of berry pie he held in his hand.
"'Tis a terrible thing to consider," he muttered.
Lieutenant March Allison, who was sitting near him, opened his eyes and blinked.
"What," he asked listlessly, "is so terrible?"
"I niver thought Mrs. O'Malley's boy would iver be so hot he couldn't eat a slab o' pie." O'Malley set the pie on the window ledge and pulled out a huge handkerchief. "This is as close to Hades as I iver plan to get."
Leaning back, he elevated his feet a bit higher. Bill O'Malley was a lank Irishman with a skinny neck and a big Adam's apple. His uniform hung on his bony frame in a most unmilitary manner. O'Malley's most striking feature was his flaming red hair seldom disturbed by a comb. He was not a person to inspire fear or confidence.
"Oh, now, I say, old chap," Allison drawled, "this is not such a bad spot. His Majesty's Army has been downright thoughtful, sending us out here to the glamorous East for a rest cure."
Allison eased himself upward in his chair. He was a slender young man. His uniform fitted him neatly. His blond hair was close-clipped. There was a hint of insolent mockery in his cool, gray eyes. Allison was an ace who had made a name for himself in the wild days of the Battle for Britain. He smiled at O'Malley as he went on talking.
"O'Malley, you have not made good use of your time here in Singapore. You have not seen any of the sights." There was more than a hint of mockery in Allison's voice. He himself had not set foot outside quarters.
O'Malley turned and squinted at Allison. "Sure, an' I know all about Singapore. Singapore, the Lion City, crossroads o' the East!" O'Malley's voice dropped to a drawl. "Ivery time you open a tin can or have a blowout you make business for Singapore, for it boasts the biggest tin smelters in the world and half o' the rubber in the world comes through its gates." He grinned widely. "And it stinks and it's hot and it's dead as a graveyard. Ivery one of us might as well be buried in County Kerry, Ireland."
"We'll get some patrol duty after a while. The Japs want Singapore and will make a grab for it," Allison predicted. His mood matched that of O'Malley but he refused to admit it. They were stuck in the Far East, thousands of miles from the battle lines. To his way of thinking, they might well remain there for the rest of the war, making routine flights over a smelly jungle infested with crocodiles, tigers and leeches.
"Mrs. O'Malley's boy joined up to fight, not to melt," O'Malley growled. "I'm thinkin' I'll hire meself out as a deck hand an' beat me way back home. I can enlist under another name."
"You won't do that," Allison snapped.
"Why not? I'm doin' no good here," O'Malley retorted.
"You won't desert. I'd turn you in, you redheaded Irisher. As your superior officer I'd break your neck." Allison's gray eyes had lost their insolent flicker and were cold and hard.
O'Malley grinned broadly and reached for the slab of pie which was dripping berry juice down the wall. "You mean you'd be after tryin'," he said as he opened his big mouth and shoved half of the piece of pie into it.
"How can you eat a whole pie before dinner? Here it is one hundred twenty in the shade and you eat pie." Allison shuddered.
"Just a snack," O'Malley assured him. "I'm really off me feed on account o' the heat."
He had just finished the pie when another flier entered. He was tall and well-built, typically Yank. Allison waved a hand lazily. O'Malley just grunted.
Stan Wilson crossed the room and seated himself at the open window, being careful to avoid the berry stains. Back in the United States Stan Wilson had been a test pilot, then he had joined the Royal Air Force and spent savage months battling for Britain.
O'Malley let his feet slide to the floor with a thud. "I've been tellin' Allison what a rotten hole this is. We'll be seein' no action out here."
"I aim to, and right away," Stan Wilson announced excitedly. "Of course you two bums will want to rest and enjoy the charming atmosphere of Singapore. But I'm on my way to a war."
"See here, old fellow," Allison began, "just because you're a Yank and can get a release, you don't have to sneak off and leave us to dehydrate. You have to stick around until we all get called back to London."
"You'll get action when the Japs cut loose, plenty of it. I think they're about ready to grab Singapore while it's still asleep. But I don't want to wait that long," Stan said.
"Wherever you're goin' I'm comin' along," O'Malley said. He had lost all of his laziness.
Stan grinned widely. "It might be arranged."
"Now see here, let me in on this plot," Allison cut in.
"It seems the United States is lending fliers to China. A hundred or so pilots, ships and ground men. Their job is to protect the Burma Road and help the Chinese build up an air force of their own." His grin widened. "Of course there will be a few odds in favor of the Japs, probably twenty to one or something like that."
"They'd never release O'Malley and me," Allison said sourly.
"I did a bit of snooping and wire-pulling. The Wing Commander is a mighty reasonable man. He feels that the Chinese should be encouraged a bit." Stan got to his feet.
O'Malley and Allison were at his side at once. "When do we pull out?" O'Malley asked eagerly.
"You boys have to get your releases and then you have to sign up with the Chinese. Me, I'm one of Chiang Kai-shek's majors."
"You spalpeen! Salute one of Chiang's generals!" O'Malley pulled himself up as straight as he could. "I'll most certainly get a generalship."
"The pay is all the same," Stan said with a smile.
"Whom do we have to see?" Allison asked.
"You see Wing Commander Beakin for your release. He'll put you on the right track," Stan said.
"I said, when do we leave?" O'Malley demanded.
"Right away. We are to ferry a Hudson bomber up to Rangoon." Stan laughed at the impatient O'Malley. "I have already listed you two as probable members of the crew. Majors O'Malley and Wilson; Major Allison commanding," Stan explained.
"I say, old fellow," Allison protested, "you rate the commander's stripes."
"Nothing doing. This is still Red Flight of the old Channel days. There won't be any changes in personnel, except that we have to take along another flier, a fellow by the name of Nick Munson."
"Is he Royal Air Force?" Allison asked.
Stan shook his head. "No combat training, I guess. He's an American and is supposed to have flown test jobs over in the States. He's signed up and we'll take him along."
"What are we waitin' for?" O'Malley cut in impatiently.
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