hio.
They had just finished flight combat school and were eager for action.
Someone had given them the records of Stan and O'Malley. They were both
eager to talk to the veterans. Splinters was a tall, thin youth with a
little mustache. Bugs was short and fat with a round beaming face and a
quick smile.

"We've heard a lot about you fellows," Bugs said.

"Never believe anything you hear in the army," Stan advised with a grin.

"Sure, an' ye've been taken in by me auld pal Goebbels," O'Malley added.

"I'm turning in. We'll get a call along about four in the morning,"
Stan said. "See you boys over at the rest room. That's where we shoot
the breeze."

"See you at midnight when we get up to poke wood into that stove,"
O'Malley contradicted.

"We'll keep the fire going. We're not sleepy," Splinters said. They were
both disappointed that the old heads did not want to go into a gabfest.

Stan and O'Malley turned in. They had learned to get as much sleep as
possible. The two replacements kept the fire going as they had promised,
and the boys did not waken until they were called at three-fifty the
next morning. Bugs and Splinters had gotten a little sleep. They were up
instantly and eager to trail along and see what was going to happen.

"Ye'll soon learn to sleep when ye get a chance," O'Malley said.

They sloshed across to the operations room and joined their flight. Maps
were ready and Colonel Holt was standing with his fellow officers. The
room was filled with a buzz of talk. Something was up and the boys knew
it. Stan and O'Malley sat in the second row with Bugs and Splinters
beside them. Stan turned to the boys.

"When you leave here you are not to talk to anyone about the operations
planned, not even to other officers," he warned.

"There must be something up," Bugs said. "We'll keep mum."

"When we get back we'll give you the story," Stan promised.

Colonel Holt began speaking, and the talking stopped. "Men, we are going
to try a different approach. Weather says we'll have clear going." His
pointer moved along a red ribbon. "The bomber objective is a fighter
station and a plant near Huls. Ordinarily we'd turn back just beyond
Antwerp. Today we'll have a flight along which will carry enough extra
gasoline to add two-hundred-twenty miles in range. I'll spot those ships
for you and it will be the job of those carrying the regulation
one-hundred-ninety gallons to protect the specials until they drop their
extra