A Yankee Flier in Italy Part 20

Stan smiled at him. "She's home without a scratch, and she's a great s.h.i.+p, sergeant," he said.

The sergeant beamed happily. "She sure is, sir," he agreed proudly. Then he added, just having remembered the important message he was to deliver to the bomber's skipper, "Colonel Benson wishes to see your entire crew as soon as you land." He snapped a salute and turned to his crew.

"Sure, an' I'm starved. I'm hopin' he won't give us a two-hour lecture on how to invade Italy," O'Malley grumbled.

They hurried to the colonel's headquarters, where they found their commanding officer waiting for them. He beamed upon the dirty, unshaven group headed by Stan.

"I'll only keep you a few minutes, gentlemen," he said. "Be seated."

Stan saluted smartly and spoke his piece. "I'd like you to meet General Bolero's sons, Tony and Arno. They made it possible for us to deliver the papers from the general and later to escape."

"What you have done is appreciated. I hope I may be able to be of service to you," the colonel said.

"We wish to fight the Germans. We are both pilots," Arno said.

"I believe that can be arranged," Colonel Benson said.

He looked at Allison and O'Malley and a broad smile formed on his lips.

"I have heard of the luck of the Irish. Now I am willing to add the British to that list. What I wanted to say is that you are requested not to talk about your experiences at all until you have reported to headquarters in Malta. After that you will be returned to my command. No one is going to talk me out of three fliers like you men." He looked at Tony and Arno. "Possibly I might be able to make it five."

O'Malley seemed to feel this was a soft spot where he could safely make a request. He grinned at the colonel.

"We have a job to do, sor, one that won't wait very long."

The colonel's smile faded and he eyed O'Malley sternly. "I'm listening,"

he said warily.

"General Bolero has to be rescued from them Germans. They may decide to shoot him."

The colonel looked suddenly very unhappy, "That is really a job I am not supposed to handle. After all, I am only a sector commander and not in charge of the war in the Mediterranean area."

"It could be done aisy," O'Malley said. "I'd like to have the job."

The colonel regarded O'Malley grimly. "I don't doubt but you would do it. However, there is some little risk. While you men are reporting to headquarters, Lieutenant Wilson and I will be giving the matter our consideration." He got to his feet. "Wilson, you see that our friends are outfitted. Get cleaned up and have a big feed." He nodded toward O'Malley. "I have set aside a supply of pie for you, Lieutenant."

The party saluted and made off. O'Malley was not too happy. "If you sneak off alone to get the general, I'll thrash the daylights out o'

you when I get back from seein' the bra.s.s hats," he growled.

"I won't take on the whole German army alone," Stan a.s.sured him. "I'll see that you're in on it."

"You better," O'Malley warned sourly.

They found their quarters and all headed for the showers. O'Malley wanted to eat first but they talked him out of the idea.

CHAPTER XII

SALERNO

Events moved rapidly for Stan during the next day or so. General Montgomery's Eighth Army was driving up the toe of the Italian boot, while General Clarke's Fifth Yank army was having a tough time holding its bridgehead at Salerno. Stan was tickled when O'Malley and Allison returned. Arno and Tony came with them.

Colonel Benson called the boys to his headquarters. He was a very busy man. He was working twenty hours a day and lines of weariness furrowed his face. His fighters and bombers were at last masters of the air over Salerno, but they got no rest after their victory. The Germans were entrenched in specially prepared spots on high ground overlooking the beaches. Artillery positions had to be blasted, and the repeated tank attacks had to be checked or the Fifth's landing force would be blasted into the sea.

The boys entered the colonel's office. He nodded toward chairs. When they were seated, he turned to Stan.

"Have you any plans for the rescue of General Bolero? We need his knowledge of military positions behind the German lines."

Stan looked at Arno. "The plans are really Lieutenant Arno Bolero's," he began. "Arno and Tony are familiar with every foot of the country where their father is being held. He is a prisoner in a house once owned by Don Sachetti. The Sachetti family and the Bolero family were very close friends. Arno and Tony have spent many days at their home. If they can go with us, we will have a chance of success."

"They can go. Now what is your plan?" the colonel glanced at his wrist watch. He was to have a conference with high officers in five minutes.

"We will take one De Havilland plane. Four of us will parachute into a field at night. Here, again, the boys will know just where to land to hit a field of grain the Germans are saving for harvesting. The plane will return to base and come after us the next night. If we do not set signal flares for landing, the plane will retire and keep watch until forced to fly home. It will return the next night and if we do not signal it then, it is not to try again."

Colonel Benson looked from one to the other of the boys. "I understand you men are accustomed to such dangerous jobs. To me it seems there is about one chance in a hundred of your even landing your parachute force."

"If there was an attack on the German field south of the place about the time we arrive, we could get in easily," Stan suggested. "I have prepared a set of maps showing good targets. The Bolero house is a hotel for German officers."

"I'll have operations chart a raid," the colonel promised. "Now I have to go. Lieutenant Wilson will be in command. I have given orders to have him supplied with what he wants." He stepped around the table and shook hands with the boys. "I'm leaving this show up to you fellows. Good luck to you." He turned and hurried out of the room.

"Sure, an' that's the first time the bra.s.s hats iver turned us loose,"

O'Malley said with a big grin.

"And it will likely be the last time," Allison said with a chuckle.

"We'd better be getting over to operations. Now, who's flying the Mosquito?" Stan looked from Allison to O'Malley.

O'Malley swallowed eagerly. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, but he turned to Allison. Allison grinned at him.

"You fly the crate, old man. I'm one blighter who wants to get even for some of the slaps and kicks we got in that prison dog house."

"Sure, an' I'll be after flyin' her," O'Malley said. "But only because I'm thinkin' ye'll be needin' the best pilot in this crew at the controls o' that s.h.i.+p."

"You hate yourself, don't you?" Stan teased. "You fly her, but just remember, if you get into a dogfight and don't show up when we set off our flares, you'll get the beating of your life when we walk in." He grinned at O'Malley.

"I'll be right there," O'Malley promised.

All of the details had been worked out and gone over so many times by the boys that they did not need to check again. They drew the machine guns and grenades they needed along with flares and other equipment.

The supply officer got blue parachutes for them from an operating unit.

"Can't be spotted at night," he explained.

Evening was closing in by the time they had everything set. The Mosquito was warmed up and ready. She was stripped down for carrier purposes and to enable her to handle an extra gasoline tank. The ground crews gave her a final once-over, waved to her crew, and backed off. Stan sat up front in the copilot's seat to see that O'Malley was not teased into a fight. Allison and the Bolero brothers manned the machine guns.

O'Malley was a bit skeptical about the powers of the De Havilland, in spite of what Stan had told him. He gunned her and gave her her head.

When she snapped off the ground in a manner that would have done credit to a Lightning, he began to grin and mumble to himself.