ge from the Navy regarding your rescue I have
had your service record handed to me. I find it quite interesting. What
happened to Lieutenant O'Malley and Lieutenant Allison?"

Stan did not smile. "The last time I saw them they were fighting a
ten-to-one battle with a flight of Messerschmitts, a delaying action, so
that I could get through with these papers. We were flying Nardi
fighters furnished us by the Italians."

The general's smile faded. "You think they are lost?"

"I'm going to check with operations," Stan said. "Both O'Malley and
Allison have come back from some tough fights."

The general reached for a telephone. "I'll have a check made," he said.

"Has Colonel Benson been asking about us?" Stan asked and there was a
twinkle in his eye.

"I believe it will be best to transfer you to another command. We do not
wish to approve your conduct as ferry pilots, but you certainly have
rendered a great service." The general gave his attention to the phone.
After fifteen long minutes of waiting and talking he cradled the
instrument and shook his head. "No Nardi fighters have been reported
flown in by escaped American pilots. A number have come in piloted by
Italian officers."

"Thank you, sir," Stan said. "I would like to have immediate service in
a fighter squadron."

"That will be arranged from my office. Now get into some proper clothing
and report to Mess Nine. Hold yourself ready there to report to this
office. We have a lot of questions to ask and we'll be ready to start
asking them as soon as you are clothed and fed."

Stan snapped a salute and about-faced. He marched out of the office, got
the location of Mess Nine from an orderly, and headed in that
direction.

CHAPTER X

LONE EAGLE

A week passed with Stan lounging around Mess Nine waiting to be assigned
to a fighter squadron. During that time he divided his hours between the
officers at Intelligence and the board of strategy. He rubbed elbows
with generals, British and American and French. During those interviews
he got an idea of the great campaign which was being planned. It helped
to soften the ache inside him, because he had heard nothing from
O'Malley or Allison. It also helped to keep him from getting restless.
He knew that a great reserve of air power was being assembled to throw
an umbrella of planes over the coming thrust, which was aimed at the
heart of Germany, through or across Italy.

The second week was well under way an