“What sort o’ work?” O’Malley asked.
“Flying a fighter plane, of course.” Colonel Benson smiled.
“’Twill suit me foine,” O’Malley said. “I’m not likin’ the idea o’ bein’ a brass hat.”
“I don’t think you would make a very good one,” the colonel said. “There will be no further mention of your pie-eating exhibition of this afternoon. You will report to operations for your new assignment.”
“Thank you, sor.”
The colonel drank his coffee and arose. O’Malley got to his feet and managed a snappy salute. The colonel moved off and the boys closed in to find out what had happened.
CHAPTER II
SPECIAL TASK
The sympathy of the boys in the officers’ mess was wasted upon O’Malley. He was not impressed by the advanced rating he had missed, nor was he jealous of the new and shining bars and oak leaves his pals were wearing. He had checked in and been assigned flight leader of a flight of three planes whose task was special work. All that interested O’Malley was that he was due to head out over the Mediterranean Sea with the nose of his Lightning pointed toward Italy.
“Sure, an’ I’ll have Benito captured by the time you birds go into action,” he told the gang.