d everyone, except the generals,
was beginning to complain and to cast a critical eye at the headquarters
of General Dwight D. Eisenhower and General Harold R. L. G. Alexander.
Stan knew enough of the plans from his meetings with the officers to
know that the blow was coming, and that it would be a swift, savage
thrust.

One morning he received a call. It was delivered by an orderly. Stan
opened the folded sheet and read an order from headquarters. "Report to
Colonel Benson at once for assignment." Stan stared at the order. Benson
had located him and demanded his return. The friendly general who had
promised to transfer Stan was now in North Africa. Folding the report,
Stan began packing the few things he owned. Colonel Benson's command had
been moved up to a field close to Messina. That was some comfort. It
meant action as soon as the main invasion broke.

But Stan was uneasy. There were many nasty jobs around a fighter
squadron to which he could be assigned as punishment for his part in the
ferry mess. When Stan was given a low-powered observation plane to fly
to Messina, his worst fears seemed about to be realized.

The plane was a Ryan ST-3, a plane used for basic training back home and
for odd jobs of scouting, ferrying first-aid supplies, and other
non-combat jobs. It was sleek and fast, as light planes go, but it was
far from a fighter.

Stan sent the Ryan up and headed her north by a point or two east. The
Ryan showed surprising speed for the size of her engine. Stan grinned as
he gunned her. He got to thinking that after the war he would like to
own a ship like it.

Swinging in around Mount Etna's cone, he set down on the Italian field
where Colonel Benson's boys were holding forth. A field officer took his
papers and waved him toward a row of drab buildings.

"The commander wants to see you at once." He spoke gruffly and showed no
interest at all in Stan.

Stan unloaded his gear in the briefing room and walked across to the
colonel's headquarters. The door was open and he looked into a room
barely large enough for a table and three chairs. Colonel Benson was
seated at the table. He looked up and when he saw Stan he frowned.

"Come in, Lieutenant Wilson," he called.

Stan stepped inside, saluted, and stood waiting.

"Sit down." The colonel motioned to a chair.

Stan seated himself and waited. The colonel regarded him for a moment,
then started to speak.

"In all of the years I have been in servic