Yank fighters kiting up to a safer level. The boys felt sure of
their kill anyway. The Fiat had started to billow smoke out of the tail
compartment where an incendiary shell had lodged.

"I'd rather bail out than land in this thing!" Allison shouted.

O'Malley shook his head and grinned. "Not one chance, she won't lift a
foot. Here goes for a belly landing!"

They skimmed over a row of trees and headed for an open field surrounded
by woods. The Fiat gave up the ghost halfway across the field. She just
settled down and hit the earth in a cloud of smoke and dust. Twisting
and turning she plowed her way toward the far tree line. Finally she
whirled around and piled up. The dust and smoke was so thick the three
Yanks could see nothing. Pawing and struggling they fought their way out
of the mass of wreckage. They heard men shouting all around them.
Bursting out of the smoke and dust, they found themselves surrounded by
fifty or more German soldiers.

For a moment the Germans were as surprised as the three Yanks. They had
expected to rescue a crew of Italian fliers. The men before them were
dressed in the garb of Italian civilians. An officer bellowed an order
and the Germans charged in.

There was no place to run, except out on the open field, and that would
have been suicide because a half dozen of the Germans were armed with
tommy-guns. The Yanks just stood waiting for the Germans to reach them.
The officer in command of the rescue group, a tall fellow with a saber
scar on his cheek, halted before them and regarded them critically.
Slowly a sarcastic smile formed on his lips. He spoke to them sharply in
Italian.

Stan answered in English. "We are officers of the United States Army."

The officer looked blank but another officer who had come up broke in,
speaking clipped but perfect English.

"American fliers dressed as Italian civilians." He raised his eyebrows.
"We can thank your fighters for shooting you down. Your spy system is
very dumb, indeed. Your fighter planes should have known better."

"We were Italian prisoners of war. Our uniforms were ruined. As a matter
of courtesy the Italians furnished us what clothing they had." Stan
spoke stiffly. "We demand the rights of prisoners of war."

"We will decide what rights you have, but I believe you will be shot as
spies." The officer turned to his superior and spoke in rapid German.

Allison had said nothing at all. O'Malley just glared at his captors,
his big