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Sergeant Walpole and the ‘copter man were flat on the ground with their hands to their ears. The ground bucked and smote them. The unthinkable violence of the hexynitrate explosions tore at their nerves, even at their sanity. And then there was an explosion with a subtle difference in its sound. Sergeant Walpole looked up, his head throbbing, his eyes watering, dizzy and dazed, and bleeding at the nose and ears.

Then he bumped into the ‘copter man, shuddering on the ground. He did it deliberately. There was a last crashing sound, and some of the blasted earth spattered on them. But then the ‘copter man looked where Sergeant Walpole pointed dizzily.

The Wabbly was careened crazily on one side. One of its treads was uncoiling slowly from its frame. Its stern was blown in. Someone had forgotten how long it takes a bomb to drop eight miles, and the Wabbly had crawled under one. More, from the racked-open stern of the Wabbly there was coming a roaring, spitting cloud of gas. The Wabbly’s storage-tanks of gas had been set off. Inside, it would be a shambles. Its crew would be dead, killed by the gas the Wabbly itself had broadcast in its wake….

PART VII
“… It is a point worth noticing, by any student of
strategy, that while the Wabbly in working solely for
effectiveness in lowering civilian morale worked upon
sound principles, yet the destruction of the Wabbly by
Sergeant Walpole and Flight Cadet Ryerson immediately
repaired all the damage done. Had it worked toward more
direct military aims, its work would have survived it.
It remains a pretty question for the student, whether
the Enemy Command, with the information it possessed,
made the soundest strategic use of its unparalleled
weapon…. But on the whole, the raid of the Wabbly
remains the most startling single strategic operation
of the war, if only because of its tremendous effect
upon civilian morale….” (Strategic Lessons of the
War of 1941-43.–U. S. War College. Pp. 94-96.)

A major-general climbed out of a staff gyrocar and waded through mud for half a mile, after which he, in person, waked two sleeping men. They were sprawled out in the puddle of rain which had gathered in a torn-away tread from the Wabbly. They waked with extreme reluctance, and then yawned even in the act of saluting in a military manner.

“Yes, sir;” said Sergeant Walpole, yawning again. “Yes, sir; the bombers’ve gone. We heard ’em tryin’ to raise the Wabbly for about half an hour after she’d blown up. Then they cut off. I think they went home, sir. Most likely, sir, they think we used some new dinkus on the Wabbly. It ain’t likely they’ll realize they blew it up themselves for us.”

The major-general gave crisp orders. Men began to explore the Wabbly, cautiously. He turned back to the two sleepy and disreputable men who had caused its destruction. His aspect was one of perplexity and admiration.

“What did you men do?” he demanded warmly. “What in hell did you do?”

Sergeant Walpole grinned tiredly. The ‘copter man spoke for him.

“I think, sir,” said the helicopter man, “that we affected the morale of the Wabbly’s and the bombers’ crews.”