with soldiers that he was forced to sit up, even though he had
been out limp and cold. His head throbbed and felt twice its normal
size. Turning it a little he could look out over the side of the truck.
They were rolling along a winding road, climbing in low gear. Looking
back Stan saw the battlefield they had just left.

The Yank airborne troops had swarmed onto the airfield. Already two big
Yank planes had landed and men were spilling out to take over the field.
With a groan Stan looked up. Twisting his head caused pains to shoot up
and down his neck. He saw that the paratroopers were still coming in. A
field of white chutes filled the air, while behind them dropped the
varicolored chutes carrying equipment and ammunition. Gliders were
casting off their toggle hooks and swooping earthward. Equipped with
tommy-guns, folding rifles, mortars, folding bicycles, bazookas and
light artillery, the air soldiers swarmed down.

Suddenly excited shouts from the Italians in the truck made Stan look up
again. A fighter-bomber was roaring down toward the truck. Stan saw that
there were three trucks in the group and that they were closely bunched,
an ideal target for the diving Yank. Grimly he watched the hundred-pound
egg slide free as the bomber lifted and zoomed upward. The deadly
missile seemed to hang in the air for a moment, though it grew bigger
and bigger every second. It appeared to be aimed straight at the last
truck in line, which was their transport. Stan looked about for Allison
and O'Malley.

His pals were standing against the side of the truck, wedged in by
soldiers. They both looked weak and shaken. O'Malley was almost without
clothes. Then the bomb hit. It landed in a bank just behind the truck. A
great upheaval of earth and rocks lifted into the air and showered over
the truck. One rear tire exploded with a bang and the truck began to
wobble and jolt as it swayed along.

Then they broke over the top of the ridge and went careening down a
steep slope. Five minutes later they had reached cover in an avenue of
trees. But the Italians did not halt for repairs. They wanted to put as
many miles as possible between them and the Yank air army before their
gas ran out.

An hour later the truck limped into another airfield which had not been
attacked. It was tucked away in a circle of hills with wooded slopes
reaching down to a little valley. Here they found they had overtaken
General Bolero. He was out on the field ru