“That brings up another point,” Dick said. “You all remember what the General said about that. If we got out of uniform and were caught we’d be treated as spies. And you know that means getting shot—right away and without any questions asked.”
“Sure, but we can’t go in uniform,” Tony protested.
“I don’t think we can, either,” Dick said. “And I know Scotti didn’t think so. That’s why he got hold of six sets of clothing, clothing of ordinary Italian small-town people such as they’d be wearing in Maletta these days.”
“Do they fit?” demanded Vince Salamone, whose difficulty in finding clothes large enough was always bothering him.
Dick laughed. “Yes, Jerry did a good job on that,” he said. “Of course, it was pretty easy to pick up the right things fast in the towns we’ve recently taken over in southern Italy. He even found a couple of Italians as big as you, Vince.”
“Then we go in Italian clothes?” Tony asked.
“Only if you want to,” Dick replied. “I’m not going to ask anybody to do it who doesn’t agree perfectly with the idea. But I know that I’m going to leave my uniform here in the cave when I visit Maletta.”
“Same here,” Tony said. “I’ll be right at home. Nobody’ll ever notice me. And if they ask, I’m just little Antonio Avella, from the town of Carlini up north, come down looking for my poor old uncle.”
“What kind of Italian peasant do you think I’ll make?” Max asked. “I can’t speak the language.”
“You’re my deaf and dumb cousin!” Tony laughed, and the others joined in. “I always knew part of that was true, but now you’ll have to fill the description completely.”