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The two Americans climbed down, looking for an exit hatch. The War Wheel's crew was still busy fighting the Blackhawks' attack, but they would soon discover their destroyed gyro controls and might come looking for the culprits. Chuck opened the hatch and looked at the ground, fifteen feet below and sliding past at thirty miles an hour. “We can't lower the ladder while we're moving,” he shouted over the noise. “We'll have to jump.”
“You forget who you're working with?” Kilroy asked. He grabbed Chuck and stretched through the hatch and lowering him to the ground. He released the Blackhawk just before they touched and the two men tucked and rolled to absorb the impact. Chuck sat up and smiled to see his teammates strafing the War Wheel, until a half dozen .50 caliber slugs kicked up a cloud of dirt not four yards away. He scanned the area and spotted a ditch a short distance away. He grabbed Kilroy and hauled him to the trench. They dove in and hugged the muddy bottom until the battle rolled away from them.
Chuck stuck his head above the lip of the ditch and saw the War Wheel and the six P-80s still blazing away a mile distant. He also saw a small wobble in the towering machine. The wobble grew rapidly, until the monstrous wheel toppled. It seemed to fall in slow motion, then it hit and a fraction of a second later the incredible concussion blasted their ears and shook the earth beneath them. He climbed up and stood on the ground, waving his arms in the air and shouting “Yahoo!”
“I couldn't agree more,” Kilroy said, looking at the huge cloud of dust rising around the fallen war machine. Chuck pulled out the mike of his belt buckle radio and keyed it. “Calling Blackhawks, this is Chuck, over.”
By Don Secrease
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“Chuck!” It was Blackhawk's voice. “Boy, am I glad to hear you. We thought you were dead. Did you have anything to do with the War Wheel falling over? I know our guns didn't seem to be having any effect. Over.”
“I gave a hand to someone,” Chuck said. “He's the one who deserves the credit. Can you pick us up? Over.”
“There's a field about a quarter mile east of the War Wheel. Hendy and I will set down there. The rest of the gang will fly cover on the Wheel to take care of any Ratzis who try to escape, until the Russians get here. Over.”
“Great, Blackhawk. We'll hoof it there. Over.” He turned to Kilroy. “Looks like we have a ride. We can take you anywhere you want to go.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I have my own contacts and I still have work to do.” He reached out his hand and Chuck shook it. “It's been a pleasure working with you. Who knows, maybe we'll do it again sometime.” He turned and walked away.
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