Outside, the flaming and the sound of Stan’s tommy-gun had given away his location. Rifles and pistols began blasting away. Bullets splintered the front of the building.
“Get down low!” Allison called.
A dozen men had rushed out of the kennels, carrying Stan with them. He heard a man groan and go down as a bullet hit him.
“Here!” he bellowed.
O’Malley and Allison located him. They knew just about where he was headed. Wiggling along on their hands and knees, the three fliers moved to the hole in the hedge.
They slid through and, paused. “Where’s Tony and Arno?” Stan asked.
“In the shed next to ours,” Allison answered. “They were captured the day we were shot down.”
“Sure, an’ if you’ll wait I’ll go beat down the door,” O’Malley whispered.
“We’ll all go,” Stan answered. “We’ll batter open both prisons.”
The three, keeping close together, circled and charged into the mass of milling Germans. They were not spotted because there was little light. Flashlight beams stabbed here and there, but none of the fingers of light found the three Yanks. They actually shouldered their way to within a few yards of the first door.
“I’ll take this one, you and O’Malley take the other. I’ll clear the way with the tommy-gun,” Stan hissed.
He opened up with a burst of fire which scattered the Germans, then charged the door. O’Malley and Allison smashed the other door. Stan heard the shouts of the prisoners as they piled out. He backed away as men lunged out of the building he had opened. Stan thanked his luck that the doors had been built out of light plywood. He leaped aside and turned his submachine gun on the Germans. He swung his arc of fire across the yard and sent the Nazis charging for cover.
Ceasing his fire he ducked for the hole in the hedge. Allison was already there, but O’Malley had not showed up.
“Hope he hasn’t gotten any crazy ideas,” Stan growled.
“He probably has,” Allison said. “How’d you douse the lights?”
“I cut the main line, but they’ll locate the break and fix it in a hurry.”
Suddenly they heard O’Malley coming. He ducked through the hedge. Behind him came two other men. O’Malley had stayed to locate Tony and Arno.
“How did you find us?” Tony asked excitedly.
“Allison got someone to smuggle out a note. I have a bomber up on your secret field to take us off, if we can get up there,” Stan answered. “It’s so dark, I don’t know whether we can locate the path.”
Arno laughed softly. “We will lead you and we will show you how to take off in the dark.”
“I’m glad you’re along,” Stan said.
Arno led the way up the trail. He moved along at a fast pace. He knew every twist and turn in the trail. The Yanks were hard put to keep up with him. Tony brought up the rear, which helped to keep the party together.
They reached the little meadow that served as a runway. Arno led them straight to the hidden parking ground. Here they halted under the wing of the Mosquito.
“What you flying?” O’Malley asked.
“A Mosquito bomber,” Stan answered.
“One o’ them wood crates?” O’Malley asked. He did not try to hide his disgust.
Stan laughed. “And I’m flying her, see? I wouldn’t ride in as fast and tricky a ship as this Mosquito with you at the controls.”
“I’ll bet me auld grandmother could fly as fast,” O’Malley said.
“The lights are on below,” Arno broke in. “I hear German soldiers coming up the slope through the woods.”
“They have a big force down there,” Allison said. “I’ll bet they comb this mountainside.”
“We’ll never be able to take off as black as it is,” Stan said. “We’ll have to wait for the first light so we can see something.”
“By that time the Germans will have found the ship. See the lights flashing in the woods below?” Tony spoke sharply.
Arno laughed. “Now I will show you how we took off on black nights. Will your bomber lift in a hurry?”
“Faster than a Nardi fighter,” Stan said.
“Wait. I will show you,” Arno said and disappeared into the blackness.
“We have done it many times,” Tony said, laughing.
Arno was gone only a few minutes. When he returned he explained:
“First we roll the ship out from under the trees by hand if we can.”
“That will be easy. There is a downgrade and the Mosquito is light weight,” Stan said.
“Then we get the engines warm enough to take off.” Arno paused.
“That will take a little time. We may have to stand off the Germans,” Stan said.
“When the engines are hot I will place two blue flares with a red one in the middle for a target. It is so easy. You head for the red flare and take off before you get to it.”
“Good work. You have the flares?” Allison asked.
“We keep a supply here,” Arno said. “I will place them. When you shout to me that the engines are ready, I will light them. Then I come running and we take off.”
“’Tis very simple,” O’Malley said eagerly. “Sure, an’ we better get her rolled out.”
The boys got hold of the Mosquito and rolled her out. Arno made off to set his flares. Before the boys piled in, Stan handed his tommy-gun to Allison. “You’re an artist with this sort of banjo. You stay on the ground. If any German squads show up, you chase them back into the woods.”
“Good idea, old boy,” Allison said as he took the gun.
Stan went up and wound up the radial motors. They coughed and sputtered but finally took hold, first with a rumbling gallop that was uneven, then with a smoother roar. The sound of those powerful radials shook the night air. Stan knew their full-throated exhausts could be heard by the Germans.
Flashes of light winked in the woods below, Stan judged that the German squads were not over two hundred yards down the slope. Some might be even farther up the hill. He tested the engines with a jerk of the throttle. They bogged down and sputtered, too cold to take off.
Suddenly rifle fire broke out across the open meadow. The Germans were firing at the flaring exhaust flames from the Mosquito’s engines. Bullets whistled past the ship. Allison opened up and the firing from the woods ceased. Suddenly a machine gun began to blast. Its bullets ripped into the ship and around it. Stan gunned the engines and they caught, bursting into a perfect and unbroken stream of power.
On the ground Allison could tell by the sound of the engines that the ship was ready. He began shouting to Arno. Stan throttled down to allow Allison’s shouts to carry.
Suddenly a flare blossomed. A few minutes later another flamed. Stan waited impatiently for what seemed a long time. He could tell by the stabs of flame from the rifles across the meadow that the Germans were charging down upon Arno. Then the red flare burst into flame. Stan fixed the spot in his mind, just in case a German got to the flare and put it out. Allison was blistering the Germans rushing down upon Arno, but the distance was too great for a tommy-gun.
Stan kicked the motors on, setting his brakes hard. The attackers were now fanned out and charging across the meadow. Allison could not halt them because they had spread out thinly over a wide front.
“Should we leave Arno?” Tony asked. “He would want more than anything else that you men got away.”
“We’re not leavin’ him!” O’Malley shouted. “I’ll get down an’ go help him. He may have been hit by a bullet.”
“No, we won’t leave him,” Stan agreed grimly.
Suddenly Allison climbed up. “They’ll be on us in a minute!” he shouted.
“Here comes the boy!” O’Malley bellowed.
Arno’s head appeared in the circle of light from the instrument panel. Allison gave him a hand, dragging him into the cockpit.