“A blinking castle,” he said in mock cockney British.
They parked the jeep and went inside. The boys were gathered around an open fire lounging in easy chairs. Allison moved out of a huddle and crossed the room.
“Welcome, you wallflowers,” he said with a big smile.
“Sure, an’ yer a disgrace to the both of us, lollin’ in the lap o’ luxury,” O’Malley answered with a big grin.
“How was it?” Stan asked.
“Very rugged,” Allison admitted. “Sit down while I order a pie for O’Malley.”
The boys seated themselves and Allison described the mission. He loaded his pipe and sat staring into the fire.
“Not much like pushing a Spitfire or a Thunderbolt. You just plow along through the muck and hope the boys will bat down all of the fighters coming at you from every angle.”
“How many did you get?” O’Malley asked.
“Six for sure,” Allison answered. “The real fun started when we headed for home. We had been plowing through flak as thick as a swarm of bees but we had been lucky. Two of our flight went down flaming and we saw the boys bail out. I thought we were slipping through pretty nicely when an Me winged us with an explosive cannon shell. After that we got hit plenty. We picked up a shell which went off inside our outboard engine. It started rolling smoke but no flames. Then a shell smashed the intercom system and communications went dead.” Allison bit down hard on his pipe.