"Murray Leinster - Morale" - читать интересную книгу автора (Leinster Murray)

"He shouldn't ha' gone up so high," said Sergeant Walpole.

He struck across country for the treads of the Wabbly once more. He saw a school-house. The Wabbly
had passed within a hundred yards of it. The school-house seemed deserted. Then the Sergeant saw the
hole in its roof. Then he caught the infinitely faint taint of gas.

"Mighty anxious," said Sergeant Walpole woodenly, "not to let news get ahead of 'em. Yeah.... If it busts
on places without warnin', it'll have that much easier work. I hope I'm in on the party when we get this
damn thing."

There was no use in approaching the school-house, though he had a gas-mask now. Sergeant Walpole
went on.

PART III
"... The Wabbly made no attempt to do purely military damage. The Enemy command realized that the
destruction of civilian morale was even more important than the destruction of munitions factories. In this,
the Enemy displayed the same acumen that makes the war a fruitful subject of study to the strategic
student." (Strategic Lessons of the War of 1941-43.—U. S. War College. Pp. 81-82.)

At nightfall the monster swerved suddenly and moved with greater speed. It showed no lights. It did not
even make very much noise. Then the second flight of home-defense planes made their attack. Sergeant
Walpole heard them droning overhead. He lit a fire instantly. A little helicopter dropped from the
blackness above him and he began to heap dirt desperately on the blaze.

"Who's there?" demanded a voice.

"Sergeant Walpole, Post Fourteen, Eastern Coast Observation," said the Sergeant in a military manner.
"Beg to report, sir, that the dinkus that brought down the other ships is housed in that big bulge on top of
the Wabbly."

"Get in," said the voice.

The Sergeant obeyed. With a purring noise the helicopter shot upward. Then something went off in
mid-sky, miles ahead, where a faint humming noise had announced the flight of attack-planes. A lurid,
crackling detonation lit up the sky. One of the ships of the night-flying squadron. From the helicopter they
could see the rest of the flight limned clearly in the flash of the explosion. Instantly thereafter there was
another such flash. Then another.

"Three," said the voice beside Sergeant Walpole. Another flash. "Four...." The invisible operator of the
screw-lifted ship was very calm about it. "Five. Six." The explosions lit the sky. Presently he said grimly.
"That's all of them. I'd better report it."

He was silent for a while. Sergeant Walpole saw his hand flicking a key up and down in the faint light of
radio bulbs.

"Now shoot the works," said the helicopter man evenly. "All the ships that attacked this afternoon went
down. One of them started to report, but didn't get but two words through. What did that damned thing
use on them?"