“Yes, sir,” replied the second, running up. “And here come the rest.”
In less than three minutes the eighteen men from the first plane had gathered near their leader, Lieutenant Jerry Scotti.
“We won’t wait for the heavies,” he said. “I think this is a setup. Come on.”
He turned and ran into the cloud of smoke, followed by the others, who held their guns ready. As they broke out of the cloud on the other side, they dropped to the ground. The hangar was not more than a hundred feet away. There was still no sign of activity in or around it. Not a man had been seen since the planes first came over.
“No cover here at all,” muttered the second man, Sergeant Dick Donnelly.
“No opposition, either,” laughed the Lieutenant. “Can’t see a soul.”
“Think they’ve skipped out?” Donnelly asked his companion.
“No—no place to skip to, except by plane,” Scotti replied. “They must be in the hangar, just waiting. The Major said we might not meet any defense at all. Most of these Frenchmen are mighty happy to have us invading North Africa.”
“Sure, but some of ’em are putting up a fight,” the sergeant said. “They’re good soldiers and if their officers tell them to fight back, they fight back.”
“Get back a bit into the protection of the smoke,” Scotti said, and his men pushed themselves back ten feet. “Now let’s give them a burst and see what happens.”