Dave Dawson with the Pacific Fleet

CHAPTER ONE
Order For Eagles

Very much like a little boy who is seeing his first Christmas tree, Freddy Farmer stared pop-eyed out the Clipper's lounge window and down at the man-made magic that was New York City. For a full five minutes he had been gaping at the sight, not moving a muscle, not making a sound, and practically holding his breath all of the time. At his side and with an arm thrown across the English-born R.A.F. ace's shoulders was Dave Dawson, grinning from ear to ear, and getting the kick of his life out of the spell that a first look at Gotham had cast upon his bosom pal, and hard-hitting flying partner.
Finally he couldn't wait any longer to hear what Freddy had to say.
"Well?" he encouraged.
"Well, what?" Freddy murmured in little more than a whisper.
"What do you think of the old town, huh?" Dave asked with a happy chuckle.
The English youth blinked, swallowed hard, and gave a little uncertain shake of his head.
"Unbelievable, incredible!" he finally got out. "Are—are those really buildings down there? The New York skyscrapers I've heard so much about?"
By way of making his question clear, Freddy pointed at the towering heaps of stone that formed the Wall Street and midtown sections of the city. Dave squinted down and grunted.
"Those little shacks?" he echoed. "Why, those are just the little huts where the poor people live. Wait until you see the real buildings. How high are we, anyway? Hope the pilot of this thing stays over three thousand feet. Be tough to smack into a skyscraper, you know."
Freddy Farmer snorted and dug an elbow into Dawson's ribs.
"Oh, come off it, funny lad!" he snapped. "That one wasn't even worth a quiet smile. Point out some of the buildings, will you? The Empire State Building. Where is it, anyway?"
Dawson pointed it out to his friend, and then went on to point out many of the other buildings of Manhattan that were famous the world around.
"But the Empire State tops them all," he said at the end of his little tourist guide speech. "Funny thing about it, though. The Empire State is the tallest building in the world, but it's not the highest. Ever realize that?"
Freddy took his eyes off the view just long enough to give him a quizzical stare.
"The tallest, but not the highest?" he said. "What kind of rubbish is that?"
"It's a fact," Dawson said gravely. "Didn't you know you've got buildings in England higher than the Empire State?"
The English youth sighed and gave a little shrug of his shoulders.
"I always felt there was something funny about America," he grunted. "But I never knew that seeing your homeland affected you Yanks this way. We have buildings in England taller than your Empire State? What utter rubbish!"
"I didn't say taller, I said higher!" Dawson chuckled. "Take the city hall out in Denver, Colorado. Denver's a mile above sea level, but New York is just about sea level. Catch on? The Denver City Hall is over four thousand feet higher than the Empire State. Try that on your friends when you get back to England."
"Blasted likely I will!" Freddy snorted. "They'd have me locked up sure for a balmy one. But don't talk about getting back to England. Good grief! I've only just arrived in America. And speaking of coming to America, I'd certainly like to know—"
"Yeah, me too," Dave cut in, and suddenly leaned closer to the window glass. "Hello, Sweetheart!" he cried, and threw a kiss. "Have you been lonesome for me, Sweet? Well, here I am, Precious. And am I tickled pink to see you!"