A Yankee Flier in Italy Part 21

"Just don't get any wild ideas," Stan warned. They had sighted a flight of Focke-Wulf 190 fighters and O'Malley was eying the Germans with a dangerous gleam in his eye.

"If they run in on us, ye can't blame me," he said sourly.

The 190 fighters tried a run at the De Havilland, but she ran away from them before they could begin to cut her off.

"She's so fast she keeps out of trouble," O'Malley said in disgust.

"That's just what she was built for. Every night her sisters keep Berlin awake with bombing attacks, and every night they fly materials and dispatches from England to Malta. This is something you've overlooked, Irisher." Stan chided O'Malley.

"I may be after lookin' into her doings one o' these days. Spendin'

ivery other evenin' in London wouldn't be so bad," O'Malley decided.

Heading north they eased across the backbone of the peninsula which the Germans had not taken the trouble to occupy in any numbers. They moved along while darkness settled. Arno and Tony kept a close check on landmarks. Finally Arno called up to Stan over the phone.

"We can head west again. I have located the ridge and the mountain we will use as a marker."

O'Malley headed the Mosquito west, letting her ease down to low alt.i.tude. Arno called in directions.

"We are coming to the divide. There we will follow the ridge north."

O'Malley followed instructions. As they swept up the ridge they saw below them a great fire, with several smaller fires breaking out near by.

"Colonel Benson's boys have hit the flying field," Stan observed to O'Malley.

"Sure, an' I think they're over the Bolero place right now." O'Malley jerked his head to the right. At that moment Tony's voice came in over the intercom.

"The bombers are attacking the villa." He tried not to show his feelings, but the boys knew how he felt. His home was being blasted.

"The whole German staff for this area ought to be down there at this hour," Stan answered. "It's tough, but we have to do it."

"I know," Tony agreed. "If the boys catch even half the staff there, I'll be satisfied."

"Now head west again, very low," Arno ordered.

O'Malley swept lower over the darkening terrain. Stan began to wonder how Arno was going to spot any landmarks. Hopping out into the night would not be so nice. There were lakes and woods and rocky ridges all over the country.

"Into the valley a point left," Arno called. "Fly low and line up on two peaks with square tops which should be against the sky."

O'Malley and Stan peered ahead as the Mosquito dropped into a wide valley.

"There's yer peaks," O'Malley said. Stan spotted the markers as his pal spoke. Two peaks with square tops loomed against the sky ahead.

"Regular gunsights," Stan said.

"Get everything ready to jump," Arno called.

Stan slapped O'Malley on the shoulder. "Be seein' you soon," he said as he slid back to help with the guns and other things they were taking along.

He found the boys getting set. Tony was loaded and ready to jump. Arno was spotting his markers.

"Go!" he called.

Tony unloaded through the open hatch and disappeared into the blue blackness, followed closely by Allison. Arno nodded to Stan and Stan piled out. As he went down into the cool night he slid his hand to the rip cord. They were jumping from low alt.i.tude and there was no time for free falling. He pulled the cord and felt his chute open and snap him into suspension. A shadowy form above him and very close told him that Arno had wasted no time in following him out of the ship.

Stan adjusted his pack and his tommy-gun for a landing. Peering down, he saw the field they were to land on. At first he thought Arno had missed and dropped them over a lake. He could dimly see what looked like rippling waves. Then his feet touched waving grain and he eased up on the cords to make his landing. A split second later he was down in a field of tall and ripening grain. Wadding his chute up he drew in a deep breath. The field reminded him of Kansas with its rich, ripe smells.

A low whistle off to his right indicated one of the boys was asking for a location. Stan gave a bird call and listened. He got three answers and heard his pals working their way toward him. Twice more he gave the a.s.sembly signal. Then he noticed that the sky above and over toward the twin peaks was lighting up with streaks and points of light. Tracers were arcing up and over, in and out. Grimly Stan watched. Night fighters had tackled O'Malley. He watched the battle, following the action by the tracers and the bursts of cannonfire. Suddenly one of the planes broke into flame. Like a torch it twisted earthward.

"Could have been a Messerschmitt," Arno spoke close beside Stan.

"It burned up like a plywood job," Allison's voice said. He spoke in his usual unruffled drawl.

"O'Malley never would run from a fight," Stan said grimly.

"This time I think he ran," Tony cut in.

Allison laughed. "You just don't know O'Malley, old man."

"No matter what happened to O'Malley we have to get going. Lead on, Arno," Stan ordered. There was no use in going sour over what might be a tough battle. They had plenty of work to do.

Arno led the way out of the wheat field. He located a thick woods and they entered it. A few minutes of walking through tangled bushes brought them out on a pathway.

"This is the trail to the orchard," Arno whispered to Tony.

"There is another trail branching off, the one we used to follow when we went swimming in the little lake below the hill," Tony said.

"That one we must find," Arno answered as he moved on.

The boys had their packs swung high on their backs. Their tommy-guns were held ready. If the night fighters who had jumped O'Malley had spotted the parachutes they would have given an alarm. Arno seemed to be thinking about this. He moved carefully, pausing to listen every few yards.

Tony was bringing up the rear. He called softly to Arno. "Here is the trail, you pa.s.sed it."

They halted and went back. Arno checked the cross trail.

"Yes, this is the trail," he said.

He headed off to the right and they followed. Coming to the top of a little hill they saw lights below, dim and shaded lights, but many of them.

"That is the house," Arno said.

"How far is it?" Stan asked.

"About a kilometer," Arno answered.

"Less than a mile to go. What's in between?" Stan asked.

"There is a settlement where the Sachetti farm workers used to live. I see lights down there." Arno was bending forward, peering into the night.