The Hunters Read Online Free PDF Page B

It’s too early. The MIGs haven’t been flying this early.”
    â€œI’d like to listen, though.”
    â€œOh, I’m not going to turn it off.”
    Cleve stood by the stove to warm himself. A number of the other pilots wandered into the office individually, but none of them stayed long. Desmond introduced Cleve to them when they came in. The encounters were reserved. Cleve felt the calm suspicion with which they regarded him, a newcomer. After a few quiet words, they would ask if there was anything happening on the mission. Then they would leave. There was little coming in over the radio. The ships were still heading north. It was two hundred miles to the Yalu.

    â€œHow are the training missions coming along?” Desmond asked.
    â€œOh, splendidly. The only question is, are there enough of them?”
    â€œEverybody has to go through the same thing, Cleve.”
    â€œI know, I know. Will I be able to fly today?”
    â€œIf we have ships to spare, you will.”
    â€œI feel like I’ve been here a month already.”
    The radio interrupted. It was nothing, however, except a few laconic comments.
    â€œIt’s still too early,” Desmond decided, looking at his watch. “Usually, if there is a fight, it starts right on the river.”
    â€œDon’t the MIGs ever come south any distance?”
    â€œNot very often.”
    â€œWhy is that?”
    â€œThey don’t have to, unless they’re out to get the fighter-bombers, say. They know we’ll come to them wherever they are. It’s even to their advantage. We have to fly two hundred miles up there to fight and then two hundred miles back, but they’re always within sight of their own fields.”
    Cleve nodded. There was a pause. Running his thumb along the edge of the desk, as if testing its sharpness, he said, “How good are their pilots?”
    â€œIt depends which you’re talking about, the good ones or the bad ones.”
    Cleve did not interrupt.
    â€œWhen they’re good,” Desmond said, “they’re damned good; but there aren’t too many of those. The rest are pitiful, worse than students sometimes. I’ve seen them bail out just because
they were scared. The only trouble is, well, take Tonneson, for instance. He didn’t think much of them. He used to say there were none of them worth a damn. They couldn’t fly, and they couldn’t shoot. He was convinced of that, and then he ran into some that could. The trouble is, you never know what you’re up against, so you can’t afford to make mistakes. On the other hand, there’re some guys like Abbott.”
    â€œWhat about Carl?”
    â€œHe doesn’t know there’s a difference. He’s afraid of them all.”
    â€œHe shot down six Germans.”
    â€œThat was years ago. I’m telling you the truth. Everybody knows it. He just hasn’t got it anymore.”
    â€œI can’t believe that.”
    â€œYou will,” Desmond assured him. He laughed bitterly. “He’s the only man I’ve ever seen who could abort from a mission and then write up the airplane as OK when he landed. I’m not exaggerating a bit, either. It’s a sad case. There are good MIG pilots, but after all . . .”
    â€œWhat are the good ones like?”
    â€œThey’re tough. If they get behind you, you don’t shake them off with one hard turn. They’ll stay with you, all the way down to the deck a lot of times. It’s happened to me. About all you can do then is hope they fire out or run low on fuel, or that somebody shows up to help you. If it’s really one of their honchos back there, you’re just out of luck. All you can do is turn as hard as you can and keep hoping.”
    â€œThat’s what makes it a war, I suppose,” Cleve said. “You shoot at them, they shoot at you.”
    â€œThat’s right. What could be