uselessness of fighting against such odds. The melee O'Malley had caused
had drawn almost a company of Italians to the spot. Allison had managed
to stay on his feet, but he had suffered from rough handling along with
Stan and O'Malley. His uniform, which was wet and sagging, had been torn
in a dozen places.

"Go quietly!" an Italian officer bellowed. He had just arrived on the
scene. "Go quietly or you will be sorry!"

"We're going, call off your dogs!" Stan shouted.

The officer shouted orders in Italian and soon restored a semblance of
order. Allison called across to Stan.

"Have a look above, and you'll see what all the excitement is about."

Stan looked into the sky and caught his breath. The paratroopers were
coming. Low over the hilly country a fleet of transports and gliders
swept in from the sea. They swept along in perfect formation like giant
birds seeking a tree to light upon. Above them fighter planes wove in
and out, while on either side fighter-bombers roared along. It was a
beautiful sight.

Suddenly the Yank air soldiers began to pile out. The sky blossomed with
colored parachutes until the blue was thickly dotted with them like a
field crowded with spring flowers. They came floating down with machine
guns and supply hassocks dangling from their chutes. On a slope above
the field a glider nosed in. It slid to a halt and a jeep bounded out of
its fat, rounded snout. Another glider slid in and a tank rolled out of
it almost before it had slid to a halt. The slope above them was already
swarming with Yanks, and machine guns were rattling.

Stan looked around desperately. They were being rushed toward a big
truck. He made one last attempt to slow down their retreat. Shaking off
the men who held him, he ducked his head and hit the line of soldiers
like a blocking back clearing a path for a ball carrier. Two Italians
went down, one under a straight, stiff arm and the other from a solid
body-block. Then a soldier clipped Stan across the head with the butt of
his rifle. Stan went down on his face and lay still.

O'Malley had started his fight again, but this time the Italians were
not wasting precious minutes. O'Malley got a rap such as the one that
had felled Stan. Allison went down under a pile of soldiers. Two
minutes later the three Yanks, out cold, were dumped into the truck and
it was rumbling away along a paved road.

A few minutes later Stan groaned and opened his eyes. The truck was so
packed