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His mouth was open like a cavern. He closed it. "Sure, an' 'tis a brilliant idea. We'll see the general about it as soon as I've finished me pie." "No, we'll see Holt. He's our superior officer. Let him have the credit." Stan leaned back. "If we tell a lot o' brass hats, the Jerries will sure hear about it," O'Malley said sourly. "I think not.
"I think our dog robber's been snitchin' a few." O'Malley yawned and stretched his arms over his head. They were long bony arms with huge hands attached to them. "Weren't you in Berlin before the war?" Stan asked. "Sure," O'Malley answered. "Bein' a son of good auld Ireland, I was itchin' to get into a fight an' it looked like the Jerries were the only ones preparin' to do anything."
He roared down through the misty edge of the cloud and barely missed a head-on crash with Stan. The instant the cloud closed around him Stan kicked off his extra tanks, then he dived up and over the cloud. The Jerries were waiting for him. Sim was chasing one FW, but three waited for the cripple.
The Jerry shuddered an instant, then broke in two and burst into roaring flames. Stan went over the wreckage and cut in between the other two Jerries. They were alive now and in action. Around the three went, up and over, painting the chill sky with streaks and loops of vapor. Stan did not hold on long. The instant he had a chance to dive and run for it he did. And the Jerries did not chase him.
One of the four Jerries, he added, was of gigantic magnitude. The play on words was brought out by an accidental remark of Solomons, the well-known Banker. "Capital punishment!" the Jew was overheard saying, with reference to the guilty parties. He was understood, as saying, A capital pun is meant, which led to an investigation and the relief of the greatly excited public mind.
With a burst of speed Stan went up and over. Every Thunderbolt did the same, but O'Malley beat them all to it. He roared over Stan's head, almost ripping away his hatch cover. The Me's ducked gracefully and scattered. They looped and dived for it. Stan saw at once the chase was hopeless. The Jerries meant to tease the Thunderbolts deeper into Germany so that they would be sure to run out of gas.
A startled battery opened up as he flipped over so low down he could see the buttons on the artillery men's uniforms. The firing was wild, but it roused gunners out on the Hook of Holland. There the Jerries did some closer shooting. But Stan was dusting the concrete emplacements and the gunners did not get their hearts into the job. Stan flipped up over blue water with a grin on his face.
He cut it into quarters, slid one slab out on his fist and began munching, paying no attention to the dripping juice. Stan stared into his coffee cup. He was thinking. O'Malley finished his second quarter of pie. He looked at Stan. "What you dreamin' up now?" he asked. Stan smiled faintly. "You know, I have a hunch we might fool those Jerries. They have this all down to a science.
The flight was deployed with the Jerries perched up above and around waiting for the Yanks to go home. Below lay the fields of Holland. "Are you clear, specials?" Stan called. "All clear," the boys called back. That meant they had zoomed down and ditched their tanks in a way the Germans would not notice. Flak was coming up and a flight of FWs were worrying the Fortresses and Liberators below.
The Superintendent, who went round with us, had been a noted punster in his time, and well known in the business world, but lost his customers by making too free with their names as in the famous story he set afloat in '29 of four Jerries attaching to the names of a noted Judge, an eminent Lawyer, the Secretary of the Board of Foreign Missions, and the well-known Landlord at Springfield.