esn't know what our orders are. We can worry about little
things like that after we get back," Stan said impatiently.

They walked across the slope to where the general was standing. There
were four officers with him, three colonels and a major.

"Could we have a word with you, sir?" Stan asked as he snapped a
salute.

"Certainly," General Miller said.

"We have decided to return to Bizerte and wondered if you could say a
word for us if a westbound plane stops here. This delay will upset our
plans and we might as well go back."

The general looked at Stan sharply. "What made you change your plans,
besides this accident?"

Stan grinned. He did not dare admit that he had overheard the general
talking.

"The farther we get from the base of action, the more jittery we get,"
he replied.

"You fellows have to be ordered to take leave," General Miller said and
smiled. "Do your orders allow you such freedom of action?"

"We feel that they do," Stan said.

"I'm sorry I can't take you. I'm afraid I'd be called to account for
helping you disobey orders." The general's smile had spread into a grin.
"You will go on as you should."

"Thank you, sir," Stan said. They both saluted and walked away.

"Guess we're sunk," Allison said sourly. "O'Malley will certainly rub it
in when he sees us again. He'll be right in the middle of the big
fight."

Stan was looking at the NATS amphibian and smiling. "We might be able to
thumb a ride with the Navy."

Allison looked down toward the sea. The Navy boys were getting the big
freighter set to take off.

"Worth a try, let's go down there."

They hurried down to the beach. An ensign was handling the shifting of
supplies from the flying boat to a truck. He greeted Stan and Allison in
a friendly manner after glancing at their service stripes.

"You boys are a bit off your reservation, aren't you?" he asked.

"We sure are and we want to get back. How about a ride to Bizerte?"

"We're not hauling passengers, but if you piled in nobody would throw
you off. We're supposed to cooperate with the Army in every way we can."
The ensign laughed.

"Great stuff," Allison said. "I'm March Allison and he's Stan Wilson."

"I'm Bert Thomas," the ensign said. "If you have bags you better get
them aboard. We're about to shove off."

"We're not taking any bags back," Stan said hurriedly. He did not want
to risk having the general order them to go on into Alexandria. In fact,
he did not want