wer. 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.

"I'd thank ye for a bit more air," O'Malley growled.

"Are we crowding you, Commander?" a high-pitched voice asked.

"'Tis not crowdin' me, but I don't trust yer flyin' ability," O'Malley
shot back.

"You're a bit off course," an unusually gruff voice broke in.

"Sure, an' I'm flyin' this outfit," O'Malley snapped.

They were swinging east by north, which headed them for Sicily. O'Malley
scanned the skies as light began to break. Below him the strait was
alive with barges and transports. A British monitor wallowed on its way,
rolling and plunging. Flight after flight of medium bombers fanned out
at low level. High above, the fighter patrols were roaring toward
Sicily. O'Malley scowled as he scanned the scene hopefully. Not a
German or an Italian plane in sight. It appeared that the best O'Malley
would get for setting his own course was a good view of the invasion
fleet and the opening wedge of the air forces.

Suddenly the shores of Sicily appeared below, and almost at once
O'Malley was jerked out of his sour mood by a shout from one of his
pilots.

"Me 110's coming down at four o'clock!"

"Protect yerselves!" O'Malley shouted eagerly. "Run fer it!"

"Shall we follow your example?" came in a mocking voice.

O'Malley started and his mouth popped open. He knew that voice! Then in
came the voice of his other pilot.

"We'll do as you do, Commander. Lead on!"

"You spalpeens!" O'Malley bellowed. Then he broke out in a loud laugh.
"Sure, an' the Auld Man made monkeys out of you two."

There was no more time for happy reunion. Seven Messerschmitts were
coming down after the bombers. They were not interested in the three
Lightnings and hoped that the Yanks flying them had not noticed any
Jerries near by. In this they were very