Arno was ahead, moving rapidly upward. They hurried along and caught up with him. From then on there was no talking; the trail wound upward steeply, covered by a canopy of trees. Reaching the top of the ridge they broke out into a forest. Arno led them to a spot where there was a narrow flight strip. Still they saw no planes.
Crossing the strip they entered a grove of tall trees and there stood three, trim ships. O’Malley yelped with joy. Stan looked at the craft critically. They were Nardi FN 500’s, obsolete in speed and fire power, but trim and sturdy ships just the same. Arno smiled.
“We built this secret field so that we could slip in at night without the black-shirted Fascisti knowing where we had gone. We met often to plan the overthrow of Mussolini and his murderers.”
“You landed here at night?” Allison asked in amazement.
“Certainly,” Arno answered modestly.
“We could use you as a fighter pilot,” Stan answered. “When you get through blowing up bridges and trains, you’d better join us. We’ll vouch for you.”
“We will do that. We like very much to fly,” Tony said eagerly.
“You will find the guns on the ship are serviced. The engine is 1200 horsepower, you have two fixed guns firing through the prop and two guns fixed in the wings. You can get three hundred and fifty miles per hour out of those ships,” Arno spoke proudly.
“Yet they are not as good as the Messerschmitts or the Focke-Wulf,” Tony added. “And I think you will have to fight your way home against the Germans.”
“Sure, an’ we’ll show them a fight,” O’Malley said happily.