“The O.C. says Green Flight is taking over for the rest of the night, so you birds can go to bed.”
“Where are you going?” Allison asked.
Tommy uncoiled himself and stood up. He began humming a snatch of song, stopped abruptly and answered Allison.
“Too quiet around here for me.” Without any further explanation he strolled out.
“That nut can’t get action enough running the notch. He’s on his way over to a bombing squadron. He’ll talk the O.C. into letting him go on a bombing raid as a gunner.” Allison got to his feet. “Me, I’m going to bed.”
“Reckon I will, too,” Stan answered.
CHAPTER II
CLOUD TAG
Stan entered the mess room the next morning and stood looking around. There was the same air of indifference, with that undercurrent of tension. A dozen men were eating breakfast at the tables in the far end. They were all talking and joking, but at any moment they might be called to face the grim specter of death high in the clouds. Stan spotted Allison sitting by himself at a small table near a window. He looked about for Tommy but the lanky flier wasn’t in the room. Probably sleeping in after an all-night party aboard a bomber, thought Stan.
He crossed the room and as he approached Allison he saw that the Flight Lieutenant’s breakfast lay untouched before him. His coffee looked cold and stale. But it was the grimness of his face that jolted Stan. Allison looked up and there were savage points of light in his eyes. His mouth twisted into a sardonic grin.