“Into the valley a point left,” Arno called. “Fly low and line up on two peaks with square tops which should be against the sky.”
O’Malley and Stan peered ahead as the Mosquito dropped into a wide valley.
“There’s yer peaks,” O’Malley said. Stan spotted the markers as his pal spoke. Two peaks with square tops loomed against the sky ahead.
“Regular gunsights,” Stan said.
“Get everything ready to jump,” Arno called.
Stan slapped O’Malley on the shoulder. “Be seein’ you soon,” he said as he slid back to help with the guns and other things they were taking along.
He found the boys getting set. Tony was loaded and ready to jump. Arno was spotting his markers.
“Go!” he called.
Tony unloaded through the open hatch and disappeared into the blue blackness, followed closely by Allison. Arno nodded to Stan and Stan piled out. As he went down into the cool night he slid his hand to the rip cord. They were jumping from low altitude and there was no time for free falling. He pulled the cord and felt his chute open and snap him into suspension. A shadowy form above him and very close told him that Arno had wasted no time in following him out of the ship.
Stan adjusted his pack and his tommy-gun for a landing. Peering down, he saw the field they were to land on. At first he thought Arno had missed and dropped them over a lake. He could dimly see what looked like rippling waves. Then his feet touched waving grain and he eased up on the cords to make his landing. A split second later he was down in a field of tall and ripening grain. Wadding his chute up he drew in a deep breath. The field reminded him of Kansas with its rich, ripe smells.