The orderly returned and nodded toward the fliers. “Colonel Benson will see you, sir,” he said to Stan.
They moved into the room and found Colonel Benson sitting behind his desk. He had a pot of coffee, a bowl of soup, and a plate of sandwiches before him. His green eyes lifted and swept over the two officers. They saluted and Stan said:
“Lieutenants Wilson and Allison reporting for duty, sir.”
The colonel dipped up a spoon of soup and ate it. He selected a sandwich, lifted the lid and looked at the filling, then took a bite.
“I believe you gentlemen are under orders to report to Alexandria. I take it you have made some changes on your own account.” The colonel paused and waited for a reply. His face was expressionless, but his eyes bored into Stan and Allison.
“We hoped you would allow us to join Lieutenant O’Malley’s command. We got the idea there might be action on this front soon.” Stan stood very straight and looked the colonel in the eye.
“What gave you the idea there would be action?” the colonel asked.
“We got it quite by accident,” Stan answered.
“I see. So you canceled the orders of the area commander and returned. Who brought you back?”
“The Navy, sir.” Allison smiled as he said it.
The colonel grunted. He finished his sandwich and helped himself to more soup. Finally he spoke.
“There will be action very soon and we do need pilots,” he said blandly. His eyes dropped to a pad of reports. They were urgent requests from Wilks and Liske asking to be transferred from O’Malley’s ferry flight. “I have two places I find very difficult to fill, and they happen to be in Commander O’Malley’s flight. I’ll assign you men to those places.” His eyes lifted and there was a glint of hardness in them. “For the duration of the present action,” he added grimly.
“Thank you, sir,” Stan said. “We will not take up more of your time.”
“One more thing,” the colonel said. “I will cancel your leave to Alexandria. But your new assignment will not free you from any measures I decide to take later as punishment for your breach of orders. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” both officers answered. They saluted and about-faced.
Outside the door Stan turned to Allison. “The Old Boy isn’t such a tough cookie after all.”
“Don’t be so sure about that. You know I had a hunch he was spoofing us all the time.” Allison scowled. “I’m sure he was.”
“You smelled a mouse?” Stan grinned.
“I smelled a very dead one,” Allison answered. “Let’s locate O’Malley. He should be over in the quarters reserved for flight commanders.”
They barged into the quarters of the flight officers and looked around. O’Malley was not present but several men sat at a table playing chess. They moved over and stood beside the table.
“We’re looking for Commander O’Malley,” Stan said.
One of the boys looked up. He was wearing new and shiny insignia of a major. He grinned up at Stan and Allison, his eyes taking in their service stripes.
“I guess you mean Flight Leader O’Malley,” he said. “You should be able to find him over at Mess Three.”
“So, he’s already gotten himself shifted to flight leader,” Stan said, matching the major’s grin. “How’d he manage it?”
“By eating a pie while Colonel Benson was delivering a lecture on how to capture Italy,” the major chuckled.
“So he’s back on the firing line. I say, that’s just where he wanted to be,” Allison said.
“No, he didn’t rate that well,” the major explained. “The Old Man chucked him into a job of ferrying planes to Malta so we’d have some reserves in close to Sicily. Less than an hour ago O’Malley told me it was a quiet and peaceful job, but one he didn’t like.”
Stan looked at Allison. “You were right, there was a mouse, a big, dead one.” He nodded to the major. “Thanks, Major,” he said.
They turned away and walked out of the room. Allison laid a hand on Stan’s arm as they turned toward the door of Mess Three.
“Suppose we surprise O’Malley,” he suggested.
“He’ll be in no mood for surprises,” Stan answered. “He’ll be a wild man. With the whole Army and Navy getting set to force a beach-head and him on ferry duty, he’ll be red-hot.”
“We are to fill in on his flight. We might work it so that he wouldn’t know until we take off. We could be a bit late in showing up.” There was a twinkle in Allison’s eyes.
Stan began to grin. “I like the idea,” he said. “We’re stuck the same as he is and might as well cheer him up.”
They went to the operations room and located Captain Marks who regarded them with unbelieving eyes.
“You mean to say you gave up a vacation trip to Alexandria to take this ferry job with that wild Irishman, O’Malley?”
“Sure,” Stan said with a grin. “We like ferrying. It’s the sort of life for any ambitious officer.”
Captain Marks regarded them intently. “I have your assignments here, but I haven’t seen anything of O’Malley.”
“Suppose you shove them at him the last thing before the flight takes off. We’d like to surprise him, having been a pal of his for a long time.”
The captain grinned. “It will be a surprise,” he said. “I know about you three and I’m looking for trouble. O’Malley never looks at assignment or flight orders. And there will be only the three of you.” His grin faded and he scowled at the two pilots. “We’ll only lose three ships and I guess we can afford that.”
“Thanks, Captain,” Stan said. “Mum’s the word. We’ll see you before dawn tomorrow morning.”
They moved out and did not go to Mess Three. They headed out to locate a spot where they could hide out until flight time.
CHAPTER IV
BEACH-HEAD
O’Malley grabbed his flight orders. He scowled at Captain Marks. For once the captain did not insist that he read his orders. O’Malley turned upon his heel and strode out of the briefing room. He was met in the darkness outside the office by an officer.
“You will fly a course over Tunis and approach Malta from due south, Lieutenant. Colonel Benson’s orders. You are to make as many flights as possible today. There will be heavy action in the straits and you are to avoid that area.” The officer saluted and moved on into the briefing room.
“Sure, an’ I’ll do me own settin’ o’ the course,” O’Malley bellowed.
He was met at his plane by his master mechanic. “You have two new men today, sir. I have given them a few details of your course.”
“An’ I’ll be givin’ them some more,” O’Malley growled as he climbed into the cockpit.
He settled down and listened for a few minutes to the excited orders jamming the air. Flights were heading out, bomber squadrons were calling in or taking orders. O’Malley set his phones on the beam and bent forward.
“Get ready, you birds of Ferry Flight,” he called in.
“All set,” came back a reply in muffled tones.
O’Malley wondered who the unlucky fliers were. Some poor saps who had gotten in bad with Benson, he guessed. He bent down and shouted to the sergeant.
“How much ammunition have we?”
“From now on the ferry ships will be fully loaded. You may run into trouble, sir.”
O’Malley pulled in his head and kicked on the power. He snapped a release to his mates and waited for them to get off. He had not taken the trouble to get their names, so he could not order them off one at a time. They did not seem to need any instruction. One Lightning wheeled around and roared away, followed closely by the other. O’Malley grunted his approval. The two relief men could fly.
Opening up his engines, O’Malley roared after his flight. He tried to cut across above them but had all he could do to catch up with them. In the gray dawn he saw that the two new men understood how to get speed out of a Lockheed P-38. Finally his two men eased over and let him slide in between them. They closed in, snuggling dangerously close.