Dave Dawson with the Commandos

Questions

CHAPTER ONE Strange Orders

The waiter came over to the table and smiled politely.

Is there anything else I can get you two gentlemen? he asked.

Dave Dawson looked up from his empty plate and shook his head emphatically.

No thanks, he said. I'm close to the bursting point right now. Anything more and I'd need a second stomach to hold it. You can bring the check, please.

Very good, sir, the waiter said, and started over to the cashier's nook.

I say, just a minute! Freddy Farmer stopped him. I'm not quite filled yet. I'll have another piece of that pie, please. And you might bring me another pot of tea. With cream.

The waiter blinked and stared, but caught himself quickly.

Yes, sir, at once, he said, and hurried away.

Dave groaned and made a little gesture with his hand.

There's a name for guys like you, pal, he said. But it isn't polite to say it in public. For the love of mike, Freddy! What have you been doing, tossing it under the table when I wasn't looking? Man! You've packed away enough chow to feed a regiment.

I was as hungry as a regiment when we came in, the English-born air ace said placidly. You've no objections, have you?

Not a one, Dawson grinned. Go ahead and kill yourself. But when you feel the explosion coming on, let me know. I'll want to be leaving in a hurry.

Have no fear, Freddy Farmer assured him. There will be no explosion. Good grief! Can't a hungry chap eat without you staring constantly? After these last five weeks I feel as though I'll never get enough food into me. You Americans certainly do a thing for fair, when you have a go at it.

Meaning what? Dave echoed absently as he stared across the hotel dining room at two rather tough-looking, yet well dressed civilians seated at a table. What are you talking about this time?

Why, about what I said, Freddy replied. These last five weeks! Or have you forgotten already? If so, I'll refresh your memory. For the last five weeks we have been attending one of your Commando training schools, or rather, I should say, Ranger training schools. We completed the course only yesterday, and here we are on leave awaiting orders. We both took English Commando training last year in England. But it was certainly nothing like the training we've just completed here in the States. You Americans really—I say! Are you listening to me?

Huh? Dave grunted, and looked at him. Were you saying something, pal?

Freddy pressed his lips tight and blew air through his nose.

How you ever became a commissioned officer, with such manners, I'll never understand! he snorted. Of course I was saying something! But don't let me bore you further. I can see something frightfully important is on your mind. You do have a mind, don't you? Well, what is it? I'll be patient, and listen.

Oh, skip it, Dave grinned. Sorry from the bottom of my heart, sweetheart. Go ahead. Put the record on again.

Like Shakespeare, I never chew my cabbage twice! Freddy snapped. No, never mind. I insist upon knowing the reason for that puzzled look on that homely face of yours. Out with it, my lad.

Just a couple of fellows eating on the other side of the room, Dave said. I've caught them eying us quite a bit. Came in just after we did. No! Don't look right now, dope! It's not polite.

Freddy checked his turning head and flushed slightly.

Rubbish! he mumbled. But what's wrong with two people looking at us? Frankly, I think we look rather pukka in our U. S. Army Air Force uniforms, and wings, and all that sort of thing. Or perhaps I present an interesting contrast to your sloppy appearance.

Boy! You must have strained a brain cell on that! Dave growled. Okay! So people look at us. But there are about twenty other officers in this dining room. And these two guys—Well, if I were going to rob a bank, or maybe kidnap somebody, I think I might be tempted to make a deal with those two. Okay! Take a sneak look now.

Freddy twisted around and made as though to brush something off his left shoulder with his right hand. He took a quick look across the dining room and then turned back to Dave.

Phew! They are a nasty-looking pair, aren't they! he breathed. But maybe they're house detectives, or something. I've always read in your American detective books that hotel detectives are generally horrible-looking creatures.

Say, maybe you've got something there, pal! Dave said with a laugh. "That's what they've been doing!"

Eh? the English youth echoed. What have they been doing?

Counting the knives and forks and spoons, as the waiter put them in front of you! Dave shot at him. I bet you a buck they search you before you leave.

Well, they'd certainly—! Freddy gasped before he caught himself. Blast your ears, Dave! You made me fall right into that one. Right you are! My turn will come, my good fellow. Seriously speaking, though, have they really been giving us more than usual notice?

I'd call it that, Dave said with a shrug. But maybe my imagination's going a little bit haywire tonight. No, not that, exactly. I mean, waiting for orders makes me think all kinds of things. Darn it all, the picture just isn't complete, if you get what I mean.

Freddy Farmer shook his head and looked very grave.

I'm afraid I don't, old chap, he said. Something bothering you that I don't know anything about?

Nope, Dawson said. Nothing that you don't know about. It's the set-up we're in now. Five weeks ago we volunteered to take the Commando training course. Colonel Welsh, Chief of all U. S. Intelligence, thought it would be a good idea if we took it. So we did. So we completed training yesterday. So we came down here to New York on leave until orders should arrive. But we had to say where we'd be stopping. Okay. So far, so good. But how long do we stay here? What happens next? What orders are we going to receive? And when? And how will they come to us? See what I mean? It's all hanging in the air. Nothing definite. Heck! We might be at a movie when a phone call came through from Colonel Welsh or somebody, and we wouldn't be here. I mean, it strikes me that we should have been told to report to somebody every day to see if our orders were ready. But—

Dave let the rest slide, and gestured helplessly. Freddy nodded slowly, and pursed his lips.

You're quite right, Dave, he murmured, and frowned. It does seem a bit queer, when you come to think of it. I—Good grief! Do you suppose, Dave?

Dawson looked at him with one eyebrow cocked.

Do I suppose what? he asked.

At that moment the waiter arrived with Freddy's second slice of pie and his pot of tea. The English youth waited until he had made his retreat.

Do you suppose we failed horribly at the Commando school, he said, and—and this is just a gentle way of letting us down? I mean, sort of give us a bit of leave here in New York to buck up our spirits, and then post us back to some air squadron?

Dave didn't say anything for a moment. He thought back over the last five weeks of vigorous training that either made or broke a man.

I don't mean to boast, he said slowly, but if we didn't pass out of that training school with pretty fair marks, then there can't be more than a dozen or so who did. But now you've hit upon the thought that's been bothering me.

Make that a bit clearer, Freddy said. I don't quite follow you. What thought?

The Commando business, Dave replied with a little gesture. "We took the training because Colonel Welsh thought it would be a good idea. Does that mean we're Commandos from now on? Are we waiting for Commando orders? Or are we waiting for further orders from Colonel Welsh?"

Good grief, yes! the English youth gasped, and smiled faintly. Fact is, though, I've been so jammed full of Commando tactics these last five weeks, that it didn't even occur to me that we might not continue along that line. Quite, Dave! Ten to one the Commando business is all behind us, and we're simply waiting for Colonel Welsh to dig us up another Air Intelligence assignment. But somehow—

Freddy Farmer let the rest hang in mid-air, and gave a little half shake of his head.

Somehow you hope not, Freddy? Dave asked softly. That what you mean, pal?

Freddy grinned and nodded slightly.

Frankly, yes, he said. I enjoyed every minute of that Commando school. I fancy I'd like the chance to put into actual practice a bit of what I learned. Quite! It would be a bit satisfying to take a knife away from some Nazi blighter and toss him over my shoulder, the way they taught us.

You can say that again! Dave chuckled. I received a lot of lumps learning that bit of self-defense. I sure would like to try it out on a Nazi tramp. And no rubber knife, either, like the instructor used. But, heck! I guess we're just hollering down the rain barrel, pal. Commando and Yank Ranger units are being formed in England, not here. That's where the finishing touches are put on. After all, we're a couple of pilots, not infantrymen. No, I guess Colonel Welsh figured it might be a good idea to round out our combat education a bit. So he suggested that we take the course.

Probably, Freddy agreed with an unhappy sigh. Just a bit of schooling to keep us out of trouble while he decided what job to set us at next. Oh well, I enjoyed the schooling—thoroughly!

It was fun, and how, Dave grunted. But I sure hate to have all these tough muscles I built up go to waste. Doggone you, Freddy! Seeing you shovel that extra slab of pie into your face has made me hungry again! I guess I'll join you, at that. But without the tea!

Dave turned to signal the waiter, and it was then that he saw the man in person heading his way. The waiter carried a white envelope in one hand, and he was taking the shortest route across the dining room. In his other hand he carried the dinner check. In true waiter style, he presented the check first. Dave glanced at the score and whistled under his breath. The hotel they had picked slip-out-of-the-hat style was not exactly favorable to a Captain's pay. However, he felt a little better when he realized that three fourths of the check was Freddy Farmer's obligation.

Pardon, murmured the waiter. Are you Captains Dawson and Farmer?

That's right, Dave told him. I'm Captain Dawson. So that makes him Captain Farmer.

A gentleman just gave this to the head waiter, sir, the man said, and held out the envelope. He said it was to be given to either Captain Dawson or Captain Farmer.

Thanks, Dave said, and took the envelope.

It was plain white and contained Freddy's name and rank, and his own, on the outside. There was nothing else written on the front side. He glanced at Freddy and then turned it over to pry up the gummed flap. He saw that two ink lines had been drawn across the sealed portion. In that way it was possible to tell if the letter had been opened. He peered at the two ink lines and knew that the letter had not been unsealed.

What do you suppose? Freddy murmured.

Could be from the management asking us to leave because you eat too much, Dave grunted, and wedged a finger under the corner of the flap. But my guess is that it's what we've been waiting for: word from Colonel Welsh. He has a habit of doing things this way, you know. But pardon me! It's addressed to us both. Do you want to open it, my little man?

Stop your silly chatter, and open the blasted thing! the English youth snapped. I'm on pins and needles.

Give me time! Dave growled, and struggled with the flap. The darn thing seems nailed down as well as gummed. Okay. Here goes for the news.

He got the flap torn open and pulled out what was inside. It was a single sheet of fool's cap paper, and the words on it were neatly typed. He read the two paragraphs that made up the letter, and his scowl deepened with each new word. Freddy, watching him, twisted and squirmed in his chair with suspense. Finally he couldn't stand it any longer.

Here! he snapped. Pass it over, if you don't know how to read!

Take a read, Dave said softly, as his scowl remained. "Take a good read, and then you tell me, pal!"

CHAPTER TWO Night Attack

It was all Freddy Farmer could do not to snatch the letter from Dave's extended hand. He took it, settled back in his chair, and bent his eyes on the typed words. Stunned amazement spread all over his wind- and sun-bronzed face as he read the two paragraphs.

"Upon receiving this you will leave your hotel and proceed to Six Hundred and Ninety-Seven (697) River Street.

"The route you will follow to this address is as follows. Walk from your hotel south to Cort Street. Go west along Cort Street to Tenth Avenue. Then south to River Street, and east to Number 697. There ring the bell under the name, Brown. Be sure to follow these route directions exactly.

X-Fifteen

Freddy read it through twice, and then raised his eyes to meet Dave's.

X-Fifteen? he murmured softly. That's one of the code identifications that Colonel Welsh uses! So he must be here in New York, and not in Washington.

Could be, Dave grunted, and started to push back his chair. The Colonel gets around a lot, you know. Well, I guess that's us, pal. Certainly screwy orders. That's quite a walk from here. But maybe after you've had Commando training you're a sissy if you take a cab. So—Well, what do you know?

Eh? Freddy Farmer ejaculated. What do I know?

Dave stood up and half nodded his head at the other side of the dining room.

Our rough tough-looking friends have vanished in thin air, he said. They aren't around any more. Must have got sick of giving us the eye, and pulled out.

Their perfect right! Freddy snorted, and got up also. You were probably imagining things, anyway. Right you are. Let's get on with it. We—Half a minute, my fair weather friend! You haven't left enough money for your share of the dinner.

One fourth of the bill, plus tip, Dave grunted scornfully. Read it and weep. Three fourths of that went inside you, sweetheart. I love you like a brother, but I refuse to foot your food bills. Nix! And double nix!

Phew, so I did! Freddy gasped as he ran his eye down the list of things served them. And the trouble is, I'm still hungry. Oh, very well. Share and share alike, with a tightwad like you. Even figured it out to the penny, too! Now, if you were with me in England—

I'd be pleading with the cops not to have you shot for stomach hoarding! Dave snapped. Pay up, and shut up. Or pay it off washing dishes. You'd look cute in an apron, Freddy. I could meet you later and let you know what Colonel Welsh has to say. I—

He stopped and grinned wickedly as Freddy threw him a rapier glare. The English youth paid his share and then joined