shing about, shouting orders
and apparently getting ready to take off again. His staff was trailing
him about, with their bundles and brief cases and files.

Stan and his pals were rushed into a small barracks room. The junior
officer who spoke English had charge of them, backed by a dozen guards.

"We will supply you with clothing," he said, casting his eye over their
ragged uniforms.

The clothing turned out to be blue shirts and bright green dungaree
overalls. O'Malley glared at the officer. Stan grinned as he slipped
into his outfit.

"It would save you a lot of trouble if you just turned us loose," he
suggested.

"You will not escape. You will be sent to Italy." The officer matched
O'Malley's glare. "Sicily can never be taken. Our infallible leader
Mussolini has said Sicily can never be taken." He waved his hands
excitedly. "Your forces will be driven into the sea."

"I'll bet you a bottle of your finest wine that half of the island is
already taken," Stan answered.

"I say, why don't you kick the Germans out and help us along?" Allison
asked. He felt he might touch a sore spot in mentioning the Germans.

The shot hit home. A flush spread over the face of the officer. "The
Nazi dogs," he snapped. "We will deal with them after we have used them
to help us."

"Sure, an' they'll treat you like they did the Poles," O'Malley said.
"An' it will serve you right well, you spalpeens."

"We'd like to stop over here and rest a bit," Stan cut in. "We realize
you treated us roughly because we made you a lot of trouble. We'll give
you our parole. There'll be no more rough stuff."

"You talkin' fer me?" O'Malley growled.

"I am," Stan said and gave O'Malley a hard look. "We'll see that you're
a nice, well-behaved boy."

"Agreed," Allison said, catching Stan's idea that he was playing for
time. Even if they gave their parole it would not prevent their being
captured by the Yanks.

The officer smiled knowingly. "You would like to stay here. You think
your air troops will take over this field. No, we will not be so
foolish. You leave for Italy in one hour." He turned and marched out,
after giving orders to the guards.

"That's that," Stan said. "But we still have a chance. He didn't accept
our parole."

"They ought to be usin' their men to fight an' not be after keepin' a
whole company here as guards," O'Malley grumbled.

"After the show you put on, they need a company," Stan snapped. "If we'd
been good boys,